Hot.
My uncle is return'd:
Deliver up my lord of Westmorland.
Uncle, what news?

Wor.
The King will bid you battle presently.

Dowg.
Defie him by the the lord of Westmorland.

Hot.
Lord Dowglas, go you then and tell him so.

Dowg.
Marry, I 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.

Dowg.
Arm, gentlemen, to arms; for I have thrown
A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth:
And Westmorland, that was ingag'd, did bear it;
Which cannot chuse 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:
[^{3 note}By still dispraising Praise, valued with You.]
And, which became him like a Prince indeed,
^{4 note}He made a blushing cital of himself,

And chid his truant youth with such a grace,
As if he master'd 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
Upon his Follies; never did I hear
Of any Prince, so wild, at liberty.
But be he as he will, yet once ere night,
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesie.
Arm, arm with speed. And fellows, soldiers, friends,
Better consider what you have to do,
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

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