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?

DOUGLAS.
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.

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.

DOUGLAS.
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?

HOTSPUR.
The King hath many marching in his coats.

DOUGLAS.
Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats;
I’ll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,
Until I meet the King.

HOTSPUR.
Up, and away!
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day.

[Exeunt.]

Alarums. Enter Falstaff solus.

FALSTAFF.
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 ragamuffins where they are peppered. 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 Prince Henry.

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 unrevenged. I prithee
Lend me thy sword.

FALSTAFF.
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.

FALSTAFF.
Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou gett’st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt.

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

FALSTAFF.
Ay, Hal, ’tis hot, ’tis hot. There’s that will sack a city.

[The Prince draws out a bottle of sack.]

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

[Throws it at him, and exit.]

FALSTAFF.
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 unlooked for, and there’s an end.

[Exit.]