This page has been validated.
THE THIRD.
45
Enter Sir John Chandos.
Chandos.
Good-morrow, Generals; I give you joy;
Welcome to the fields of Cressy. Here we stop,
And wait for Philip.
Dagworth.
I hope so.
Audley.
There, Sir Thomas; do you call that fear?
Dagworth.
I don't know; perhaps he takes it by fits.
Why, noble Chandos, look you here—
One rotten sheep spoils the whole flock;
And if the bell-wether is tainted, I wish
The Prince may not catch the distemper too.
Chandos.
Distemper, Sir Thomas, what distemper?
I have not heard.
Dagworrh.
Why, Chandos, you are a wise man,
I know you understand me; a distemper
The King caught here in France of running away.
