Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry, Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; And thou shalt find a king that will revenge Lord Stafford's death. [They fight, and Blunt is slain. Enter HOTSPUR. Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triúmph'd upon a Scot. Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the king. Hot. Where? Doug. Here. Hot. This, Douglas? no, I know this face full well: A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; goes: Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear. Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats. Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, Until I meet the king. Hot. Up and away; Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt. Other Alarums. Enter FALSTAFF. 86 Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the pate.-Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt;there's honour for you: Here's no vanity 6-I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: God keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my raggamuffins where they are pepper'd: there's but three of my hundred and fifty left alive; and they are for the town's end, to beg during life. But who comes here? Enter Prince HENRY. P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here? lend me thy sword: Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are unreveng'd: Pr'ythee, lend thy sword. Fal. O Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe a while.—Turk Gregory 87 never did such deeds in arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure. P. Hen. He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. I pr'ythee, lend me thy sword. Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. P. Hen. Give it me: What, is it in the case? Fal. Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's that will sack a city. [The Prince draws out a bottle of sack. P. Hen. What, is't a time to jest and dally now? [Throws it at him, and exit. Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do come in my way, so; if he do not, if I come in his, willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like not such grinning honour as sir Walter hath: Give me life; which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes unlook'd for, and there's an end. SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field. [Exit. Alarums. Excursions. Enter the King, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN, and WESTMORELAND. K. Hen. I pr'ythee, Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much:Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. P. John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make up, Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. K. Hen. I will do so: My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. West. Come my lord, I will lead you to your tent. P. Hen. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help: And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch should drive The prince of Wales from such a field as this; And rebels' arms triumph in massacres! P. John. We breathe too long:-Come, cousin Westmoreland, Our duty this way lies; for God's sake, come. I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: But now, I do respect thee as my soul. K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point, With lustier maintenance than I did look for Of such an ungrown warrior. I am the Douglas, fatal to all those That wear those colours on them.-What art thou, That counterfeit'st the person of a king? So K. Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart, many of his shadows thou hast met, And not the very king. I have two boys, Seek Percy, and thyself, about the field: But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, I will assay thee; so defend thyself. Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit ; And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king: But mine, I am sure, thou art, whoe'er thou be, And thus I win thee. [They fight; the King being in danger, enter Prince Henry. P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like Never to hold it up again! the spirits Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms: - [They fight; and Douglas flies. And show'd, thou mak'st some tender of my life, P. Hen. O heaven! they did me too much injury, That ever said, I hearken'd for your death. If it were so, I might have let alone The insulting hand of Douglas over you; Which would have been as speedy in your end, As all the poisonous potions in the world, K. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to sir Nicholas Gawsey. [Exit King Henry. |