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Florence. A room in the Duke's palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence attended; two French Lords, and Soldiers.
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DUKE. So that, from point to point, now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war, Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after.
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FIRST LORD. Holy seems the quarrel Upon your Grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer.
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DUKE. Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers.
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SECOND LORD. Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, But like a common and an outward man That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion; therefore dare not Say what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my incertain grounds to fail As often as I guess'd.
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DUKE. Be it his pleasure.
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FIRST LORD. But I am sure the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Come here for physic.
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DUKE. Welcome shall they be; And all the honours that can fly from us Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell. Tomorrow to the field. [_Flourish. Exeunt._]