I suppose you must go if you want to. But what about the Scots? If we fail in peace negotiations with the French, the Scots will be over the border like water.

LANCASTER. We can settle the Scots while my expedition is being fitted out.

RICHARD. The poor Scots! Well, you have the money and you have the men. What more do you want? My blessing?

LANCASTER. Yes. With your official sanction, and Parliament’s unofficial hatred of the French, I can get them to vote a little gift towards my army’s supplies. There is no need to beggar myself in Spain.

RICHARD. You know quite well that Parliament will vote anything against France. It is only the King’s household accounts that they question. I am sorry that you are going. (_In the tone of this last remark there is a suspicion of such naďve wonder underlying its conventionality that LANCASTER is amused_).

LANCASTER. And surprised to find yourself sorry?

RICHARD. Yes; a little.

LANCASTER. We have had small chance to learn to know each other, Richard. Each time that we have come within understanding distance of each other someone has told us of a plot that the other was hatching, ‘m?

RICHARD. (_thoughtfully_). Yes.

LANCASTER. You always got incontrovertible proof, didn’t you?

RICHARD. Yes.

LANCASTER. SO did I! (_RICHARD, seeing the point, smiles, and there is a pause._) You said just now of the Spanish project: “You have the money and you have the men.”

RICHARD. Yes?

LANCASTER. With those men and that money I might, if I had cared, have done endless mischief in the last eight years. But, instead, I am taking them out of England. Think it over. I hope you are giving me pigeon-pie for dinner?

RICHARD. I think so. You go on. I’ll follow. (_As LANCASTER goes out_) By the way, I suppose you weren’t thinking of taking my uncle Gloucester with you to Spain?

LANCASTER.