Wor.
O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
The liberal kind Offer of the King.

Ver.
'Twere best he did.

Wor.
Then we are all undone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,
The King would keep his Word in loving us,
He will suspect us still, and find a time
To Punish this Offence in other Faults:
Supposition, all our lives shall be stuck full of Eyes;
And we shall feed like Oxen at a Stall,

The better cherish'd, still the nearer death.
My Nephews trespass may be well forgot,
It hath the excuse of Youth, and heat of Bloud,
And an adopted Name of Priviledge,
A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a Spleen:
All his Offences live upon my Head,
And on his Fathers. We did train him on,
And his Corruption being tane from us,
We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all:
Therefore, good Cousin, let not Harry know
In any Case, the Offer of the King.

Ver.
Deliver what you will, I'll say 'tis so.
Here comes your Cousin. Enter Hotspur.

Hot.
My Uncle is return'd:
Deliver up my Lord of Westmerland.
Uncle, what News?

Wor.
The King will bid you Battel presently.

Dow.
Defie him by the Lord of Westmerland,

Hot.
Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so.

Dow.
Marry and shall, and very willingly. [Exit Dowglas.

Wor.
There is no seeming mercy in the King.

Hot.
Did you beg any? God forbid.

Wor.
I told him gently of our Grievances.
Of his Oath breaking: which he mended thus,
By now forswearing that he is forsworn,
He calls us Rebels, Traitors, and will scourge
With haughty Arms, this hateful Name in us. Enter Dowglas.

Dow.
Arm, Gentlemen, to Arms, for I have thrown
A brave defiance in King Henries teeth:
And Westmerland that was ingag'd did bear it,
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.

Wor.
The Prince of Wales stept forth before the King,
And, Nephew, challeng'd you to single fight.

Hot.
O, would the Quarrel lay upon our Heads,
And that no Man might draw short breath to day,
But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell me,
How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in contempt?

Ver.
No, by my Soul: I never in my life
Did hear a Challenge urg'd more modestly,
Unless a Brother should a Brother dare
To gentle Exercise and proof of Arms.
He gave you all the Duties of a Man,
Trim'd up your Praises, with a Princely Tongue,
Spoke your Deservings like a Chronicle,

Making you ever better than his Praise,
By still dispraising. Praise, valu'd with you:
And which became him like a Prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital of himself,
And chide his Trewant Youth so with a Grace,
As if he mastered there a double Spirit
Of teaching and of learning instantly:
There did he pause. But let me tell the World,
If he out live the Envy of this day,
England did never owe so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his Wantonness.

Hot.
Cousin, I think thou art enamoured
On his follies: never did I here
Of any Prince so wild at Liberty.
But be he as he will, yet once e're night,
I will embrace him with a Souldiers Arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesie.
Arm, arm with speed. Enter Messenger.

Mes.
My Lord, here are Letters for you.

Hot.
I cannot read them now.
O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;
To spend that shortness basely; were too long.
If life did ride upon a Dials point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour,
And if we live, we live to tread on Kings:
If dye; brave death, when Princes dye with us.
Now for our Consciences, the Arms is fair,
When the intent for bearing them is just. Enter another Messenger.

Mes.
My Lord, prepare, the King comes on apace.

Hot.
I thank him, that he cuts me off from my tale:
For I profess not talking: Only this,
Let each man do his best. And here I draw my Sword,
Whose worthy temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withall,
In the Adventure of this perillous day.
Now Esperance Percy, and set on:
Sound all the lofty Instruments of War,
And by that Musick, let us all embrace:
For Heaven to Earth, some of us never shall,
A second time do such a courtesie. They embrace, the Trumpets sound, the King entreth with his Power, alarm unto the Battel. Then enter Dowglas and Sir Walter Blunt.

Blu.
What is thy Name, that in Battel thus thou crossest me?
What Honour doest thou seek upon my Head?

Dow.
Know then my name is Dowglas,
And do haunt thee in the Battel thus,
Because some tell me, that thou art a King.

Blunt.
They tell thee true.

Dow.
The Lord of Stafford here to day hath bought
Thy likeness: for instead of thee, King Harry,
This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,
Unless thou yield thee as a Prisoner.

Blu.
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 slain, then enters Hotspur.

Hot.
O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed o're a Scot.

Dow.
All's done, all's won, here breathless lies the King

Hot.
Where?

Dow.
Here.

Hot.
This, Dowglas? No, I know this face full well,
A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,
Semblably furnish'd like the King himself.

Dow.
Ah fool: go with thy Soul whither it goes.
A borrowed Title hast thou bought too dear,
Why didst thou tell me, that thou wert a King?

Hot.
The King hath many marching in his Coats.

Dow.
Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coats,
I'll murther all his Wardrobe piece by piece,
Untill I meet the King.

Hot.
Up and away.
Our Souldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt. Alarm, and enter Falstaff solus.

Fal.

Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here: here's no scoring, 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 moulten Lead, and as heavy too; Heaven keep Lead out of me, I need no more weight than mine own Bowels. I have led my Rag of Muffians where they are pepper'd: There's not three of 150 left alive, and they for the Towns end, to beg during Life. But who comes here?

Prin.
What stand'st thou idle here? lend me thy Sword,
Many a Noble Man lies stark and stiff
Under the hooves of vaunting Enemies,
Whose deaths are unreveng'd. Prethee lend me thy Sword.

Fal.

O Hal, I prethee give me leave to breathe a while. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in Arms as I have done this day, I have pay'd Percy, I have made him sure.

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

Falst.

Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my Sword, but take my Pistol if thou wilt.

Prin.

Give it me: What, is it in the Case?

Fal.

I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sack a City.

Prin.

What, is it a time to jest and dally now?

Falst.

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.