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And if we liue, we liue to treed on kinges,
If die, braue death, when princes die with vs.
Now for our consciences, the armies is * faire,
When the intent for bearing them is iust.

Enter another.

MelMy lord prepare, the king comes on apace.

Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale :
For I professe not talking, onely this,
Let each man doe his best : and here draw I a sword,
Whose temper I intend to staine
With the best blood that I can meet withall,
In the aduenture of this perilous day.
Now esperance Percy, and set on,
Sound all the loftie instruments of warre,
And by that musicke, let vs all imbrace,
For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer (hall,
A second time do such a curtesie.

Here they embrace, the trumpets found, the king enters with

his power, alarme to the battell; then enter Dowglas, and fir Walter Blunt. Blunt. What is thy name, that in battell thus thou crosselt

me ? What honour dost thou seeke vpon my head?

Dow. Know then, my name is Dowglas, And I doe haunt thee in the battell thus, Because some tell me, that thou art a king.

Blunt. They tell thee true.

Dowg. The lord of Stafflord deare to day hath bought Thy likenesse, for in ftead of thee, king Harry


This sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,
Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a * prisoner.

Blunt. I was not borne to yeeld +, thou proud Sot,
And thou shalt find a king that will reuenge
Lord Staffords death.

They figt, Dowglas kils Blunt; then enters Hotspur.
Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I neuer had triumpht ouer † a Scot.

Dowg. Als done, als won, here breathles Iyes the king.
Hot. Where?
Dowg. Heere.

Hot. This, Dowglas?? no, 'I know this face full well,
A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt ;
Semblably furnisht like the king himselfe.

Dowg. Ah foole, goe with thy foule whither it goes,
A borrowed title hast thou bought too deare,
Why didst thou tell me, that thou wert a king?

Hot. The king hath many marching in his coates.

Dowg. Now by my sword, I will kill all his coates,
Ile murder all his wardrope piece by piece,
Votill I meete the king.

Hot. Vp and away.
Our souldiers stand full fairely for the day.

Alarme. Enter Falftalffe folus. Falf. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I feare the shot here here's no scoring but vpon the pate. Soft, who are you fir Walter Blunt, there's honour for you, here's no vanitie, I am as hot as molten lead, and as heauie too: God keepe lead out of me, I need no more weight then mine owne bowels. I haue led my rag of muffins where they are peperd:


t a yielder,

I upona

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theres not three of my 150. left aliue, and they are for the townes end, to beg during life. But who comes heere?

Enter the prince. Prin. What standst thou idle here? lend me thy sword, Many a noble man lies starke and stiffe Vnder the houes of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are yet vnreuengd ; I prethee lend me thy

sword. Fal. O Hal, I prethee giue me leaue to breath a while : Turke Gregorie neuer did such deeds in armes, as I haue done this day: I haue payd Percy, I haue made him sure.

Prin. He is indeed, and living to kill theę ; I prethee lend me thy sword.

Fal. Nay, before God Hal, if Percy be aliue, thou getst not my sword; but take my pistoll if thou wilt.

Prin. Giue it me: what? is it in the case?
Fall. I Hal, tis hot *, theres that will facke a citie.

The prince drawes it out, and

findes it a bottle of facke. Prin. What is it a time to iest and dally now. He throwes the bottle at him.

Exit. Fal. If Percy be aliue, Ile 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 fir Walter hath : giue me life, which, if I can saue, fo: if not, honour comes vnlookt for, and theres an end.

Alarme, excursions, enter the king, the prince, lord Iohn of

Lancaster, and earle of Westmerland. King. I prethee Harry, withdraw thy felfe, thou bleedest too much; lord Iohn of Lancaster, goe you with him,

* tis hot, lis ber.

P. Iob.

P. Ioh. Not I, my lord, vnlesse I did bleed too.

Prin. I beseech your maiestie make vp, Least your retirement doe amaze your friends. King. I will do so; my L. of Westmerland lead him to his

Weft. Come, my lord, Ile lead you to your tent,

Prin. Lead me my lord? I do not need your helpe,
And God forbid a shallow scratch should driue
The prince of Wales from such a field as this,
Where stainde nobilitie lies troden on,
And rebels armes triumph in massacres.

Lohn. Wee breath too long, come coofen Weftmerland,
Our dutie this way lies : for Gods fake come.

Prin. By God, thou hast deceiude me, Lancaster,
I did not thinke thee lord, of such a spirit;
Before I lou'd thee as brother, lohn,
But now I doe respect thee as my soule.

King. I saw him hold lord Percy at the poynt,
With lustier maintenance then I did looke for
Of such an vngrowne warrier.
Prin. O, this boy lends mettall to vs all.

Dowg. Another king, they grow like Hydras heads,
I am the Dowglas fatail to all those
That weare those colours on them. What art thou
That counterfeitst the person of a king?

King. The king himselfe, who Douglas grieues at heart,

of his shadowes thou hast met,
And not the very king : I haue two boyes
Seeke Percy and thy selfe, about the field ?
But seeing thou fallt on me so luckily,
I will assay thee, and defend thy selfe.

Dowg. I feare thou art another counterfeit;
And yet in fayth thou bearest thee like a king :



But mine I am sure thou art, who ere thou be;
And thus I winne thee.

They fight, the king being in danger, enter prince of Wales.

Prin. Hold vp thy head vile Scot, or thou art like
Neuer to hold it vp againe, the spirites
Of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my armes,
It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee,
Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to pay.

They fight, Dowglas flyeth.
Cheerely my lord, how fares your grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton : Ile to Clifton straight.

King. Sray, and breath a while,
Thou hast redeemd thy lost opinion,
And shewde thou makest some tender of my life
In this faire rescue thou hast brought to me.

Prin. O God, they did me too much iniurie,
That euer sayd, I harkned to your death :
If it were so, I might haue let alone
The insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you,
Which would haue been as speedy in your end,
As all the poysonous potions in the world,
And sau'd the trecherous labour of your sonne.
Kin. Make up to Clifton, Ile to S. Nicholas Gawley.


Enter Hotspur.
Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth?
Prin. Thou speakst, as if I would deny my name.
Hot. My name is Harry Percy.

Hen. Why then I see a very valiant rebell of that name. I am the prince of Wales ; and thinke not Percy,


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