The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 141

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, aid will scourge With haughty arms this hateful name in us.

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; Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.

Wor. The Prince of Wales stepp'd 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 show'd his tasking? Seem'd it in contempt?

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; Trimm'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 valued with you; And, which became him like a prince indeed, He made a blus.h.i.+ng cital of himself, And chid his truant youth with such a grace As if lie mast'red there a double spirit Of teaching and of learning instantly.

There did he pause; but let me tell the world, If he outlive 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 a libertine.

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 courtesy.

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.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. 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 dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour.

An if we live, we live to tread on kings; If die, brave death, when princes die with us!

Now for our consciences, the arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.

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 A sword whose temper I intend to stain With the best blood that I can meet withal In the adventure of this perilous day.

Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on.

Sound all the lofty instruments of war, And by that music let us all embrace; For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall A second time do such a courtesy.

Here they embrace. The trumpets sound.

[Exeunt.]

Scene III.

Plain between the camps.

The King enters with his Power. Alarum to the battle. Then enter Douglas and Sir Walter Blunt.

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. Douglas kills Blunt. Then 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.

Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes!

A borrowed t.i.tle hast thou bought too dear: Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?

Hot. The King hath many marching in his coats.

Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; I'll murder all his wardrop, piece by piece, Until I meet the King.

Hot. Up and away!

Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum. 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 are you?

Sir Walter Blunt. There's honour for you! Here's no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too. G.o.d keep lead out of me!

I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my rag-of-m.u.f.fins where they are pepper'd. There's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive; and they are for the town's end, to beg during life. But who comes here?

Enter the Prince.

Prince. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword.

Many a n.o.bleman lies stark and stiff Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are yet unreveng'd. I prithee Rend me thy sword.

Fal. O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have paid Percy; I have made him sure.

Prince. He is indeed, and living to kill thee.

I prithee lend me thy sword.

Fal. Nay, before G.o.d, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt.

Prince. Give it me. What, is it in the case?

Fal. Ay, Hal. 'Tis hot, 'tis hot. There's that will sack a city.

The Prince draws it out and finds it to he a bottle of sack.

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

He throws the bottle at him. Exit.

Fal. Well, 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. Exit.

Scene IV.

Another part of the field.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter the King, the Prince, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland

King. I prithee, Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleedest too much.

Lord John of Lancaster, go you unto him.

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

Prince. I do beseech your Majesty make up, Lest Your retirement do amaze your friends.

King. I will do so.

My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent.

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