Yes, my Lord. The prisoners you asked for, which my son Harry Percy captured at Holmedon, were not kept from you in anger. He's already told you that. Whoever told you my son meant to defy you was either mistaken or trying to make trouble. He's done nothing wrong.
HOTSPUR
My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But I remember, when the fight was done,
30
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly dressed,
Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new reaped
Showed like a stubble land at harvest home.
35
He was perfumèd like a milliner,
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose and took 't away again,
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
40
Took it in snuff; and still he smiled and talked.
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
45
With many holiday and lady terms
He questioned me; amongst the rest demanded
My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf.
I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold,
To be so pestered with a popinjay,
50
Out of my grief and my impatience
Answered neglectingly I know not what—
He should, or he should not; for he made me mad
To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
HOTSPUR
Sir, I didn't hold back any prisoners. But I remember this: when the battle ended, I was exhausted with rage and exertion. I was out of breath, dizzy and bent over. All of a sudden a man approached me, neat, clean, and tidily dressed, like a bridegroom. His beard was freshly shaven, like a newly plowed field. He wore fancy cologne and he carried a perfume box, which he kept raising to his nose as he smiled and talked on. Whenever soldiers walked past, bearing dead bodies, he called them rude hoodlums for bringing a foul, disgusting corpse within breathing distance of him. He interrogated me, with his fancy language, and demanded that I give him my prisoners, to be taken on your behalf. There I was, with the cold aggravating all my wounds, being pestered by this idiot. In my grief and impatience, I gave him some kind of answer. I don't even remember what I said—he could take them, or he couldn't.
