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 Thy likeness, for, instead of thee, king Harry, This fword hath ended him :. fo fhall it thee, Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. Blunt. I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot; And thou shalt find a king that will revenge Lord Stafford's death. Fight, Blunt is flain. Enter Hotfpur. Hot. O Douglas, hadft thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumph'd o'er a Scot. Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathlefs 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; "Semblably furnish'd like the king himself. Doug. A fool go with thy foul, whither it goes! Hot. Up, and away; Our foldiers ftand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt. W Other alarums. Enter Falstaff. Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the fhot here; here's no fcoring, but upon the 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: Heaven 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. Henry. What, ftand'st thou idle here? lend me thy fword : Many a nobleman lies ftark and stiff Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are unreveng'd: lend me thy fword. Fal. O Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe a while. Turk Gregory never did fuch deeds in arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him fure. P. Henry. He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. I pr'ythee, lend me thy fword. Fal. Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'ft not my fword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. P. Henry. Give it me: What, is it in the cafe? Fal. Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's that will fack a city. [The Prince draws out a bottle of fack. P. Henry. What, is it a time to jeft and dally now? [Throws it at him, and exit. "Here's no vanity !]-ironically. "Here's no knavery !" ́ TAMING OF THE SHREW, Vol. II. p. 296. Gru. * Turk Gregory]-Pope Gregory the Seventh-Hildebrand. fure.]fafe, certainly difpofed of him. Fal. Fal. If Percy be alive, I'll 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: Give me life: which if I can fave, fo; if not, honour comes unlook'd for, and there's an end. [Exit. SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field. Alorums. Excurfions. Enter the King, the Prince, Lord John of Lancaster, and the Earl of Westmoreland. K. Henry. Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'ft too much : Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. Lan. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. P. Henry. I beseech your majefty, make up, Left your retirement do amaze your friends.. K. Henry. I will do fo : My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. Weft. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent. P. Henry. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help: And heaven forbid, a fhallow fcratch fhould drive The prince of Wales from fuch a field as this; Where ftain'd nobility lies trodden on, And rebels' arms triumph in maffacres ! Lan. We breathe too long:-Come, coufin Weftmore land, Our duty this way lies; for heaven's fake, come. [Exeunt P. John and Weft. P. Henry. By heaven, thou haft deceiv'd me, Lancaster, Į did not think thee lord of fuch a spirit: Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John; But now, I do refpect thee as my foul. K. Henry. I faw him hold lord Percy at the point, With luftier maintenance than I did look for Of fuch an ungrown warrior, P. Henry. O, this boy Lends mettle to us all! Enter Douglas. [Exit. Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra's heads : I am the Douglas, fatal to all thofe That wear those colours on them.-What art thou, K. Henry. The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart, So many of his fhadows thou haft met, And not the very king, I have two boys, Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit ; [They fight; the King being in danger, enter Prince Henry. P. Henry. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like Never to hold it up again! the spirits Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms: [They fight, Douglas flyeth. Cheerly, my lord; How fares your grace?— a but be. Sir Nicholas Gawfey hath for fuccour fent, And fhew'd, thou mak'ft fome tender of my life, P. Henry. O heaven! they did me too much injury, If it were fo, I might have let alone The infulting hand of Douglas over you; your fon. K. Henry. Make up to Clifton, I'll to fir Nicholas Gawley, Enter Hotfpur, [Exit. Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. P. Henry. Why, then I fee A very valiant rebel of that name. I am the prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two ftars keep not their motion in one sphere; I'll crop to make a garland for my head. b loft opinion;]-character-my loft opinion. 004 [Fight. Enter |