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Other Alarums.-Enter FALSTAFF. Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the pate.-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: God 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 lifty left alive; and they are for the town's end, to beg during life. But who comes here?

Enter Prince HENRY.

West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent.

P. Hen. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help: [drive And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch should The prince of Wales from such a field as this: Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, And rebels' arms triumph in massacres!

P. John. We breathe too long:-Come, cousin Westmoreland,

Our duty this way lies; for God's sake, come.
[Exeunt Prince JOHN and WESTMORELAND.
P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceiv'd me,

I did not think thee lord of such a spirit:
Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John;
But now, I do respect thee as my soul.

K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point,

With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.
P. Hen. O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all!


Alarums.-Enter DOUGLAS. Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra's I am the Douglas, fatal to all those [heads: That wear those colours on them.-What art That counterfeit'st the person of a king? [thou, K. Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart,

So many of his shadows thou hast met,

P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here? lend And not the very king. I have two boys,

me thy sword:

Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are unreveng'd: Pr'ythee, lend
thy sword.

Fal. O Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe a while.-Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure.

P. Hen. He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. Lend me thy sword, I pr'ythee.

Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt.

P. Hen. Give it me: What, is it in the case? Fal. Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's that will sack a city.


[The Prince draws out a bottle of sack. P. Hen. What, is't a time to jest and dally [Throws it at him and exit. Fal. 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 carbonadot 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.

SCENE IV.-Another part of the Field. Alarums.-Excursions.-Enter the KING, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN, and WESTMORELAND.

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Seek Percy, and thyself, about the field:
But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee; so defend thyself.

Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit; And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king: But mine, I am sure, thou art, whoe'er thou be, And thus I win thee.

[They fight; the KING being in danger, enter Prince HENRY.

P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like

Never to hold it up again! the spirits
Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms:
It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee;
Who never promiseth, but he means to pay.-
[They fight; DOUGLAS flies.
Cheerly, my lord; How fares your grace?-
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton; I'll to Clifton straight.

K. Hen. Stay, and breathe a while:-
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion;* [life,
And show'd, thou mak'st some tender of my
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
P. Hen. O heaven! they did me too much


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 sav'd the treacherous labour of your son.
K. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nich-
olas Gawsey. [Exit King HENRY.


Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.

P. Hen. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.

Hot. My name is Harry Percy.
P. Hen. Why, then I see

A very valiant rebel of the name.

I am the prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,

* Reputation.

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.

Hot. Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come
To end the one of us; And 'would to God,
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine!
P. Hen. I'll make it greater, ere I part from

And all the budding honours on thy crest
I'll crop, to make a garland for my head.
Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities.


[They fight.

Fal. Well said, Hal! to it, Hal!-Nay, you
shall find no boy's play here, I can tell you.
Enter DOUGLAS; he fights with FALSTAFF, who
falls down as if he were dead, and exit Douc-
LAS. HOTSPUR is wounded, and fulls.
Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my
I better brook the loss of brittle life, [youth,
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me;
They wound my thoughts, worse than thy
sword my flesh:-
But thought's the slave of life, and life time's
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue:-No, Percy, thou art dust,
And food for
P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy: Fare thee
well, great heart!-

Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk!
When that this body did contain a spirit,
A kingdom for it was too small a bound;
But now, two paces of the vilest earth
Is room enough:-This earth, that bears thee
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. [dead,
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
I should not make so dear a show of zeal:-
But let my favours hide thy mangled face;
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven!
Thy ignomy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph!—

[He sees FALSTAFF on the ground.
What! old acquaintance! could not all this flesh
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell!
I could have better spar'd a better man.
O, I should have a heavy miss of thee,
If I were much in love with vanity.
Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day,
Though many dearer, in this bloody fray:-
Embowell'd will I see thee by and by;
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit.
Fal. [Rising slowly.] Embowelled! if thou
embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to
dert me, and eat me too, to-morrow. 'Sblood,
'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant
Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counter-
feit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: To die, is to be
a counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a
man, who hath not the life of a man: but to
counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth,
is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect
image of life indeed. The better part of valour
is-discretion; in the which better part, I have
saved my life. 'Zounds, I am afraid of this
gunpowder Percy, though he be dead: How,
if he should counterfeit too, and rise? I am
afraid, he would prove the better counterfeit.
Therefore I'll make him sure: yea, and I'll
swear I killed him. Why may not he rise, as

* Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face. + Salt.

well as I? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah, [Stabbing him.] with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me. [Takes HOTSPUR on his back,

Re-enter Prince HENRY and Prince JOHN.

P. Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely hast thou flesh'd

Thy maiden sword.

P. John. But, soft! whom have we here?
Did you not tell me, this fat man was dead?
P. Hen. I did; I saw him dead, breathless
and bleeding
Upon the ground.-
That plays upon our eyesight? I pr'ythee
Art thou alive? or is it fantasy [speak;
We will not trust our eyes, without our ears:-
Thou art not what thou seem'st.

Fal. No, that's certain; I am not a double man: but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There is Percy: [Throwing the body down.] if your father will do me any honour, so; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you.

P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead.

Fal. Didst thou ?-Lord, lord, how this world is given to lying!-I grant you, I was down, and out of breath; and so was he: but we arose both at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed, so; if not, let them, that should reward valour, bear the sin upon their own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh: if the man were alive, and would deny it, I would make him eat a piece of my sword.

P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I

P. Hen. This is the strangest fellow, brother

Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back:
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.

[A Retreat is sounded.

The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours.
Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field,
To see what friends are living, who are dead.

[Exeunt Prince HENRY and Prince JOHN.
Fal. I'll follow, as they say for reward. He
that rewards me, God reward him! If I do
grow great, I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and
leave sack, and live cleanly, as a nobleman
should do.
[Exit, bearing off the body.

SCENE V.-Another part of the Field. The Trumpets sound.-Enter King HENRY, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN, WESTMORELAND, and others, with WORCESTER, and VERNON, prisoners.

K. Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find re-

Ill-spirited Worcester! did we not send grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you?"
And would'st thou turn our offers contrary?
Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust?
Three knights upon our party slain to-day,
A noble earl, and many a creature else,
Had been alive this hour,
If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne
Betwixt our armies true intelligence.

Wor. What I have done, my safety urg'd me
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be avoided it falls on me.
K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and
Vernon too:

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Warkworth.-Before Northumberland's Castle.
Enter RUMOUR, painted full of Tongues.
Rum. Open your ears; For which of you
will stop
The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth:
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride;
The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity,
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world:
And who but Rumour, who but only I,
Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence;

Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first? my office is
To noise abroad,-that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword;
And that the king before the Douglas' rage
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant


Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,
Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me; From Rumour's

Whilst the big year, swol❜n with some other They bring smooth comforts false, worse than


Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures;
And of so easy and so plain a stop,

That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomize

Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
I run before king Harry's victory;
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,

true wrongs.



SCENE 1.-The same.-The PORTER before the Gate; Enter Lord BARDOLPH.

Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho?Where is the earl?

Port. What shall I say you are?

Northumberland castle.

Bard. Tell thou the earl, That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here. Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard;

Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. Bard. Here comes the earl.

North. What news, lord Bardolph? every minute now

Should be the father of some stratagem:*
The times are wild; contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.

Berd. Noble earl,

I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. North. Good, an heaven will!


Bard. As good as heart can wish :The king is almost wounded to the death; And, in the fortune of my lord your son, Prince Harry slain outright; and both the [John, Kill'd by the hand of Douglas: young prince And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field; And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day, [John, So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won, Came not, till now, to dignify the times, Since Cæsar's fortunes!

North. How is this deriv'd? Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence;

A gentleman well bred, and of good name, That freely render'd me these news for true. North. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom I sent

On Tuesday last to listen after news.

Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; And he is furnish'd with no certainties, More than he haply may retain from me.


North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come with you?

Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back

With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd,
Out-rode me. After him, came spurring hard,
A gentleman almost forspent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied

He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him
I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me, that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold;
With that, he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head; and, starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.

North. Ha!Again.

He was some hilding* fellow, that had stol'n
The horse he rode on; and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more



North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title

Fortells the nature of a tragic volume:
So looks the strond, whereon the imperious
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.t- [flood
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask,
To fright our party.

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North. How doth my son, and, brother? Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand." Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd:

But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it.
This thou would'st say,-Your son did thus,
and thus,

Your brother, thus; so fought the noble Doug-
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with-brother, son, and all are dead.
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother,
But, for my lord your son,-

North. Why, he is dead.


See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath? He, that but fears the thing he would not know, [eyes, Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak,

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I see a strange confession in thine eye: [sin,
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear or
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so:
The tongue offends not, that reports his death:
And he doth sin, that doth belie the dead;
Not he, which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd knolling a departing friend.
Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is

Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to believe

That, which I would to heaven I had not seen: But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,

Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out

Of Hotspur, coldspur? that rebellion

Had met ill-luck!

Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what;

If my young lord your son have not the day,

Upon mine honour, for a silken point
I'll give my barony: never talk of it.


To Harry Monmouth: whose swift wrath beat down


The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung
In few, his death (whose spirit lent a fire

North. Why should the gentleman, that rode Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,)

by Travers,

Give then such instances of loss?

Bard. Who, he?

* Important or dreadful event: + Exhausted. Lace tagged.

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