Cheerly, my lord. How fares your Grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton. I’ll to Clifton straight.
KING.
Stay and breathe awhile.
Thou hast redeem’d thy lost opinion,
And show’d thou mak’st some tender of my life,
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
PRINCE.
O God, they did me too much injury
That ever said I hearken’d for your death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting hand of Douglas over you,
Which would have been as speedy in your end
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
And saved the treacherous labour of your son.
KING.
Make up to Clifton. I’ll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.
[Exit.]
Enter Hotspur.
HOTSPUR.
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
PRINCE.
Thou speak’st as if I would deny my name.
HOTSPUR.
My name is Harry Percy.
PRINCE.
Why then I see
A very valiant rebel of the name.
I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,
To share with me in glory any more.
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere,
Nor can one England brook a double reign,
Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.