Re-enter DOUGLAS. DOUG. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have thrown A brave defiance in king Henry's teeth, And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear it; WOR. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the king, And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight. Hor. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads; Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue; But let me tell the world,— If he outlive the envy of this day, I will embrace him with a soldier's arm, Arm, arm, with speed: And, fellows, soldiers, friends, Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, Enter a Messenger. MESS. My lord, here are letters for you. O gentlemen, the time of life is short; Still ending at the arrival of an hour. If die, brave death, when princes die with us! Enter another Messenger. MESS. My lord, prepare; the king comes on apace. Let each man do his best: and here I draw a sword, With the best blood that I can meet withal [The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt. SCENE III.—Plain near Shrewsbury. Excursions, and parties fighting. Alarum to the battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and BLUNT, meeting. BLUNT. What is thy name, that in battle thus thou crossest me? What honour dost thou seek upon my head? DOUG. Know, then, my name is Douglas; And I do haunt thee in the battle thus, BLUNT. They tell thee true. Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry, BLUNT. I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot; Lord Stafford's death. [They fight, and BLUNT is slain Enter HOTSPUR. HOT. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumph'd over 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: DOUG. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes! HOT. The king hath many marching in his coats. HOT. Up and away; Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. Other Alarums. Enter FALSTAFF. [Exeunt. FAL. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the pate.-Soft! who are you? Sir Walter Blunt ;-there 's honour for you: Here's no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: Heaven keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels.-I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered: there's not 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: Prithee, lend me thy sword. FAL. O Hal, I prithee, give me leave to breathe awhile.— Turk Gregory 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 prithee, lend me thy sword. FAL. Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive thou gett'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; 't is hot, 't is hot; there's that will sack a city. [The PRINCE draws out a bottle of sack. P. HEN. What, is it a time to jest and dally now? [Throws it at him, and exit. FAL. 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. [Exit. SCENE IV. Another part of the Field. Alarums, Excursions. Enter the KING, PRINCE HENRY, PRINCE JOHN, and WESTMORELAND. K. HEN. I prithee, 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. My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. WEST. Come, my lord, I'll 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; Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, And rebels' arms triumph in massacres! P. JOHN. We breathe too long:-Come, cousin Westmore land, Our duty this way lies; for God's sake, come. [Exeunt PRINCE JOHN and WESTMORELAND. P. HEN. By heaven, thou hast deceiv'd me, Lancaster, I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John; 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. P. HEN. O, this boy lends mettle to us all. Alarums. Enter DOUGLAS. DOUG. Another king! they grow like Hydras' heads: 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? [Exit. K. HEN. The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart, So many of his shadows thou hast met, DOUG. I fear thou art another counterfeit ; [They fight; the KING being in danger, enter PRINCE HENRY. P. HEN. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms: [They fight; DOUGLAS flies. Cheerily, my lord; How fares your grace?— Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion; And show'd thou mak'st some tender of my life, |