Blunt.
What is thy name, that thus in battel crossest me?
What honour dost thou seek upon my head?

Dow.
Know then, my name is Dowglas,
And I 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 dear 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 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 slain: then enter Hot-spur.

Hot.
O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed o'er 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 borrow'd 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,
Until I meet the King.

Hot.
Up and away,
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt.

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