K. Henry.

I pr'ythee, Harry, withdraw thy self, thou bleedest too much: Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.

Lan.
Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.

P. Henry.
I do beseech your Majesty make up,
Least your retirement do amaze your friends.

K. Henry.
I will do so:
My lord of Westmorland, lead him to his tent.

West.
Come my lord, I'll lead you to your tent.

P. Henry.
Lead me, my lord! I do not need your help,
And heav'n 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.

Lan.
We breath too long; come cousin Westmorland,
Our duty this way lies, for heav'ns sake come.

P. Henry.
By heav'n thou hast deceiv'd me, Lancaster,
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit:
Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John;
But now, I do respect thee as my soul.

K. Henry.
I saw him hold lord Percy at the point,
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.

P. Henry.
Oh this boy
Lends mettle to us all. [Ex. Manet K. Henry. Enter Dowglas.

Dow.
Another King? they grow like Hydra's heads:
I am the Dowglas fatal to all those
That wear those colours on them. What art thou
That counterfeit'st the person of a King?

K. Henry.
The King himself, who, Dowglas, grieves at heart
So many of his shadows thou hast met,
And not the very King. I have two boys
Seek Percy and thy self about the field;
But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily
I will assay thee: so defend thy self.

Dow.
I fear thou art another counterfeit;
And yet in faith thou bear'st thee like a King:
But mine I'm sure thou art, who e'er thou be,
And thus I win thee. [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 Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms;

It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
Who never promiseth, but means to pay. [They fight, Dowglas flyeth.
Chearly, my lord; how fares your grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton strait.

K. Henry.
Stay, and breathe a while.
Thou hast redeem'd my lost opinion,
And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my life,
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.

P. Henry.
O heav'n, they did me too much injury,
That ever said I hearken'd for your death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
Th'insulting hand of Dowglas over you,
Which would have been as speedy in your end,
As all the pois'nous potions in the world,
And sav'd the treach'rous labour of your son.

K. Henry.
Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey. [Exit.

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