To grace this latter age with noble deeds. And will, to save the blood on either side, K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee, Albeit, considerations infinite Do make against it :-No, good Worcester, no, [Exeunt Worcester and Vernon. P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life : The Douglas and the Hotspur both together Are confident against the world in arms. K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge; For, on their answer, will we set on them: And God befriend us, as our cause is just! [Exeunt King, Blunt, and Prince John. Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship. P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. [Exit. Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. Fal. "Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning!-Who hath it? He that died o'Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it :— therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism. SCENE II. The Rebel Camp. Enter WORCESTER and VERNON. [Exit. Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, sir Richard, The liberal kind offer of the king. Ver. "Twere best he did. Wor. Then are we all undone. It is not possible, it cannot be be, The king should keep his word in loving us; A harebrain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen: And, on his father's; we did train him on ; We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say, 'tis so. Enter HOTSPUR and DOUGLAS; and Officers and Soldiers behind. Hot. My uncle is return'd:-Deliver up Wor. I told him gently of our grievances, Re-enter DOUGLAS. Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have thrown A brave defiance in king Henry's teeth, And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear it; Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight. Hot. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads; Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue; Spoke your deservings like a chronicle; England did never owe so sweet a hope, That he shall shrink under my courtesy. Arm, arm, with speed :-And, fellows, soldiers, friends, Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, here are letters for O gentlemen, the time of life is short; you. To spend that shortness basely, were too long, Still ending at the arrival of an hour. Enter another Messenger. Mess. My lord, prepare; the king comes on apace. Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, For I profess not talking: Only this Let each man do his best: and here draw I 90536 A sword, whose temper I intend to stain [The Trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt. SCENE III. Plain near SHREWSBURY. Excursions, and Parties fighting. Alarum to the Battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and BLUNT, meeting. Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek Upon my head? 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 sword hath ended him: so shall it thee, Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; And thou shalt find a king that will revenge Lord Stafford's death. [They fight, and Blunt is slain. Enter HOTSPUR. Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumph'd upon a Scot. Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless 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. |