Enter another Messenger. Mess. My lord, prepare; the king comes on apace. Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, For I profess not talking; Only this→ Let each man do his best: and here draw I [The trumpets sound. They embrace, 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 the 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, Because some tell me that thou art a king... Blunt. They tell thee true. Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought The motto of the Percy family. Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, King Harry, Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumph'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; Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes! 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, 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 In resemblance." pate.-Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt:there's honour for you: Here's no vanity!-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 peppered: 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, 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 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. Lend me thy sword, I pr'ythee. 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 : A piece of meat cut crosswise for the gridiron. Give me life: which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes unlooked 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 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; Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, 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. [Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland. P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceiv'd me, Lan caster, I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point, Alarums. Enter Douglas. Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra's 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? 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 Never to hold it up again! the spirits Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in niy arms : K. Hen. Stay, and breathe awhile:— * Reputation. |