Enter Peter Blunt.
Peter.
Yonder's a musician going to play before the
King; it's a new song about the French and
English, and the Prince has made the minstrel a
squire, and given him I don't know what, and I
can't tell whether he don't mention us all one by
one; and he is to write another about all us that
are to die, that we may be remembered in Old
England, for all our blood and bones are in France;
and a great deal more that we shall all hear by
and by; and I came to tell your honour, because
you love to hear war-songs.
Dagworth.
And who is this minstrel, Peter, dost know?
Peter.
O ay, I forgot to tell that; he has got the same
name as Sir John Chandos, that the Prince is always
with—the wise man that knows us all as well as
your honour, only ain't so good-natured.
Dagworth.
I thank you, Peter, for your information, but not
for your compliment, which is not true: there's as
