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. God keep lead out of
me!
I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my
rag-of-muffins 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 nobleman 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 God, 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.
Prince. Lead me, my lord, I do not need your help;
And God 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!
John. We breathe too long. Come, cousin Westmoreland,
Our duty this way lies. For God's sake, come.
[Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland.]
Prince. By God, 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.
King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.
Prince. O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all! Exit.
Enter Douglas.
Doug. Another king? They grow like Hydra's heads.
I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
That wear those colours on them. What art thou
That counterfeit'st the person of a king?
King. The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart
So many of his shadows thou hast met,
And not the very King. I have two boys
Seek Percy and thyself about the field;
But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee. So defend thyself.
Doug. I fear thou art another counterfeit;
And yet, in faith, thou bearest thee like a king.
But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be,
And thus I win thee.