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Ver. 'Twere best he did.
Then are we all undone.
up, Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. Look how we can, or sad, or merrily, Interpretation will misquote our looks ; And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, The better cherish'd, still the nearer death.. My nephew's trespass may be well forgot, It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood; And an adopted name of privilege, A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen : All his offences live upon my head, And on his father's;- we did train him on; And, his corruption being ta'en from us, We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, In any case, the offer of the king.
Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say, 'tis so. Here comes your cousin.
Enter HOTSPUR and DOUGLAS; and Officers and
Soldiers, behind. Hot. My uncle is return'd: My lord of Westmoreland. - Uncle, what news ?
Wor. The king.will bid you battle presently. Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland. Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. Doug, Marry, and shall, and very willingly.
[Exit. Wor. There is no secming mercy in the king. Hot. Did you beg any? God forbid !
Wor. I told him gently of our grievances,
the king, And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight.
Hot. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads i And that no man might draw short breath to-day, But I, and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me, How show'd his talking ? seem'd it in contempt? Ver. 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 blushing cital of himself; And chid his truant youth with such a grace, As if he master'd 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
Enter a Messenger.
Hot. I cannot read them now..
Enter another Messenger.
Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale,
8 The motto of the Percy family.
For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
[The Trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt.
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 ;
Blunt. They tell thee true.
Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot;
[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
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 borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear. Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king ?
Hit. The king hath many marching in his coats.
Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats ; I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, Until I meet the king. Hot.
away ; Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. (Exeunt.
Other Alarums. Enter FALSTAFF. Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon
Soft! who art thou ? Sir Walter Blunt; there's honour for you: Here's no vanity!- I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: heaven keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels. — I have led my raggamuffins where they are peppered: there's but 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 Prince HENRY.
P. Hen. 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 unreveng’d: Pr’ythee, lend th
sword. Fal. O Hal, I pr’ythee, give me leave to breathe a while. — Turk Gregory never did such deeds in