SCENE I.--_At Bradford.

_Enter the_ EARL OF KENDAL; _with him_ LORD BONFIELD, SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG, SIR NICHOLAS MANNERING, _and_ JOHN.

_Ken._ Welcome to Bradford, martial gentlemen, Lord Bonfield, and Sir Gilbert Armstrong both; And all my troops, even to my basest groom, Courage and welcome! for the day is ours. Our cause is good, 'tis for the land's avail: Then let us fight, and die for England's good.

_All._ We will, my lord.

_Ken._ As I am Henry Momford, Kendal's earl, You honour me with this assent of yours; And here upon my sword I make protest For to relieve the poor or die myself. And know, my lords, that James, the King of Scots, Wars hard upon the borders of this land: Here is his post.--Say, John Taylor, what news with King James?

_John._ War, my lord, [I] tell, and good news, I trow; for King Jamy vows to meet you the twenty-sixth of this month, God willing; marry, doth he, sir.

_Ken._ My friends, you see what we have to win.-- Well, John, commend me to King James, and tell him, I will meet him the twenty-sixth of this month, And all the rest; and so, farewell. [_Exit_ JOHN. Bonfield, why stand'st thou as a man in dumps? Courage! for, if I win, I'll make thee duke: I, Henry Momford will be king myself; And I will make thee Duke of Lancaster, And Gilbert Armstrong Lord of Doncaster.

_Bon._ Nothing, my lord, makes me amaz'd at all, But that our soldiers find our victuals scant. We must make havoc of those country-swains; For so will the rest tremble and be afraid, And humbly send provision to your camp.

_Arm._ My Lord Bonfield gives good advice: They make a scorn, and stand upon the king; So what is brought is sent from them perforce; Ask Mannering else.

_Ken._ What say'st thou, Mannering?

_Man._ Whenas I show'd your high commission, They made this answer, Only to send provision for your horses.

_Ken._ Well, hie thee to Wakefield, bid the town To send me all provision that I want, Lest I, like martial Tamburlaine, lay waste Their bordering countries, and leaving none alive That contradicts my commission.

_Man._ Let me alone; My lord, I'll make them vail[300] their plumes; For whatsoe'er he be, the proudest knight, Justice, or other, that gainsay'th your word, I'll clap him fast, to make the rest to fear.

_Ken._ Do so, Nick: hie thee thither presently, And let us hear of thee again to-morrow.

_Man._ Will you not remove, my lord?

_Ken._ No, I will lie at Bradford all this night And all the next.--Come, Bonfield, let us go, And listen out some bonny lasses here. [_Exeunt._