withal In the adventure of this perilous day. Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on. Sound all the lofty instruments of war, And by that music let us all embrace; For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall A second time do such a courtesy. What is thy name, that in the battle thus Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek Upon my head? Know then, my name is Douglas; And I do haunt thee in the battle thus Because some tell me that thou art a king. They tell thee true. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day 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. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; And thou shalt find a king that will revenge Lord Stafford's death. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, never had triumph'd upon a Scot. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the king. Where? Here. 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. 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? The king hath many marching in his coats. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, Until I meet the king. Up, and away! Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. 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 moulten 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? 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. 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.