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

Enter another.

Me My lord prepare, the king comes on apace.
Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale :
For I profeffe not talking, onely this,

Let each man doe his best: and here draw I a fword,
Whofe temper I intend to staine

With the best blood that I can meet withall,

In the aduenture of this perilous day.

Now efperance Percy, and set on,

Sound all the loftie inftruments of warre,
And by that muficke, let vs all imbrace,
For heauen to earth, fome of vs neuer fhall,

A fecond time do such a curtefie.

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 crossest me?

What honour doft thou feeke vpon my head?

Dow. Know then, my name is Dowglas,

And I doe haunt thee in the battell thus,

Because fome tell me, that thou art a king.

Blunt. They tell thee true.

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

are.

This fword hath ended him, fo fhall it thee,

*

Vnleffe thou yeeld thee as a prifoner.

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 Hotfpur.

Hot. O Dowglas, hadft thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I neuer had triumpht ouer ‡ a Scot.

Dowg. Als done, als won, here breathles lyes 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 haft 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 fword, I will kill all his coates,
Ile murder all his wardrope piece by piece,
Vntill I meete the king.

Hot. Vp and away.

Our fouldiers ftand full fairely for the day.

Alarme. Enter Falstalffe folus.

Falf. Though I could fcape fhot-free at London, I feare the shot here here's no fcoring 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:

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theres

theres not three of my 150. left aliue, and they are for the But who comes heere?

townes end, to beg during life.

Enter the prince.

Prin. What ftandft thou idle here? lend me thy fword,

Many a noble man lies starke and stiffe

Vnder the houes of vaunting enemies,

Whose deaths are yet vnreuengd; I prethee lend me thy fword.

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

Prin. He is indeed, and liuing to kill thee;

I prethee lend me thy fword.

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

Prin. Giue it me: what? is it in the cafe?

Falf. 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 ieft 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, fo: if he do not, if I come in his willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like not fuch grinning honour as fir Walter hath: giue me life, which, if I can faue, fo: if not, honour comes vnlookt for, and theres an end.

Alarme, excurfions, 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 bot, tis bot..

P. Ich.

P. Ioh. Not I, my lord, vnleffe I did bleed too.
Prin. I beseech your maiestie make vp,

Leaft your retirement doe amaze your friends.

King. I will do fo; my L. of Westmerland lead him to his

tent.

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 fhallow fcratch fhould driue

The prince of Wales from fuch a field as this,
Where ftainde nobilitie lies troden on,

And rebels armes triumph in massacres.

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

Prin. By God, thou haft deceiude me, Lancafter,
I did not thinke thee lord, of such a spirit;
Before I lou'd thee as brother, Iohn,

But now I doe respect thee as my foule.

King. I faw him hold lord Percy at the poynt,
With luftier maintenance then I did looke for
Of fuch an vngrowne warrier.

Prin. O, this boy lends mettall to vs all.

Dowg. Another king, they grow like Hydras heads,

I am the Dowglas fatall to all those

That weare thofe colours on them. What art thou

That counterfeitft the perfon of a king?

Exit.

King. The king himfelfe, who Douglas grieues at heart, So many of his fhadowes thou haft met,

And not the very king: I haue two boyes

Seeke Percy and thy felfe, about the field?
But feeing thou falst on me fo luckily,

I will affay thee, and defend thy felfe.

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

But

But mine I am fure 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 Gawfey hath for fuccour fent,
And fo hath Clifton: Ile to Clifton ftraight.
King. Stay, and breath a while,

Thou haft redeemd thy loft opinion,

And fhewde thou makeft fome tender of my life
In this faire refcue thou haft brought to me.

Prin. O God, they did me too much iniurie,
That euer fayd, I harkned to your death:
If it were fo, I might haue let alone
The infulting hand of Dowglas ouer you,
Which would haue been as fpeedy in your end,
As all the poyfonous potions in the world,
And fau'd the trecherous labour of your fonne.

Kin. Make vp to Clifton, Ile to S. Nicholas Gawfey.

Enter Hotspur.

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

Exit.

Hen. Why then I fee a very valiant rebell of that name.

I am the prince of Wales; and thinke not Percy,

To