BLUNT.
They tell thee true.
DOUGLAS.
The Lord of Stafford dear today 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.
HOTSPUR.
O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed upon a Scot.
DOUGLAS.
All’s done, all’s won; here breathless lies the King.
HOTSPUR.
Where?
DOUGLAS.
Here.
HOTSPUR.
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.