The Works of Shakspeare

make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coin- |To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a age. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end.

feast,

Bard. I will, captain: farewell.

[Exit. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons: inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the bans; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver, worse than a stuck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores: and such as, indeed, were never soldiers; but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old-faced ancient: and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think, that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, II had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scare-crows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat: Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders, like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose innkeeper of Daintry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge.

Enter PRINCE HENRY and WESTMORELAND. P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt?

Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag! what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire?-My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy; thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already: The king, I can tell you, looks for us all; we must away all night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me: I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.

P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed; for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack; whose fellows are these that come after?

Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.

Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.-The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and
VERNON.

Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.
Wor.
It may not be.
Doug. You give him then advantage.
Ver.
Not a whit.
Hot. Why say you so? looks he not for supply?
Ver. So do we.

West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly.

Fal. Faith, for their poverty,-I know not where they had that: and for their bareness,-I am sure, they never learned that of me.

P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is already in the field,

Fal. What, is the king encamped?
West. He is, sir John; I fear, we shall stay too
Fal. Well,

[long.

Hot.
His certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd: stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.
Doug.

You do not counsel well;
You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.
Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life,
(And I dare well maintain it with my life,)
If well-respected honour bid me on,"
I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives:
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.
Yea, or to-night.

Doug.

Ver.
Hot. To-night, say I.
Ver.

Content.
Come, come, it
may not be.
wonder much, being men of such great leading,
That you forsee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition: Certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up:
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day;
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a horse is half the half himself.

Hot. So are the horses of the enemy
In general, journey-bated, and brought low;
The better part of ours is full of rest.

Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours: For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. (The trumpet sounds a parley.)

Enter Sir WALTER BLUNT.

Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king,
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.

Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; And 'would
You were of our determination!
[to God,
Some of us love you well: and even those some
Envy your great deserving, and good name;
Because you are not of our quality,
But stand against us like an enemy.

Blunt. And God defend, but still I should stand so,
So long as, out of limit, and true rule,
You stand against anointed majesty!
But to my charge.-The king hath sent to know
The nature of your griefs; and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land
Audacious cruelty: If that the king
Have any way your good deserts forgot,-
Which he confesseth to be manifold,-
He bids you name your griefs; and, with all speed,
You shall have your desires, with interest;
And pardon absolute for yourself and these,
Herein misled by your suggestion.

Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the
king

Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
My father, and my uncle, and myself,
Did give him that same royalty he wears:
And,-when he was not six and twenty strong,
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,—
My father gave him welcome to the shore:
And,-when he heard him swear, and vow to God,

He came but to be duke of Lancaster,
To sue his livery, and beg his peace;
With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal,-
My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the lords and barons of the realm
Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him,
The more and less came in with cap and knee;
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages;
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths,
Gave him their heirs; as pages follow'd him,
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
He presently, as greatness knows itself,---
Steps me a little higher than his vow
Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg;
And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform
Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees,
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth:
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep.
Over his country's wrongs; and, by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for.
Proceeded further; cut me off the heads
Of all the favourites, that the absent king
In deputation left behind him here,
When he was personal in the Irish war.
Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this.
Hot.
Then, to the point.
In short time after, he depos'd the king;
Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life;
And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state:
To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March
(Who is, if every owner were well plac'd,
Indeed his king,) to be incag'd in Wales,
There without ransome to lie forfeited:
Disgrac'd me in my happy victories;
Sought to entrap me by intelligence;
Rated my uncle from the council-board;
In rage dismiss'd my father from the court;
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong:
And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out
This head of safety; and, withal, to pry

Into his title, the which we find

Too indirect for long continuance.

Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king? Hot. Not so, sir Walter; we'll withdraw awhile. Go to the king; and let there be impawn'd Some surety for a safe return again, And in the morning early shall mine uncle Bring him our purposes: and so farewell. Blunt. I would, you would accept of grace and Hot. And, may be, so we shall. Blunt.

[love.

'Pray heaven, you do! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-York. A Room in the Archbishop's

House. Enter the Archbishop of YORK, and a Gentleman. Arch. Hie, good sir Michael; bear this sealed brief,

With winged haste, to the lord mareschal;
This to my cousin Scroop; and all the rest
To whom they are directed: If you knew
How much they do import, you would make haste.
Gent. My good lord,
I guess their tenor.

Arch.

Like enough, you do. To-morrow, good sir Michael, is a day, Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men Must 'bide the touch: For, sir, at Shrewsbury, As I am truly given to understand, The king, with mighty and quick-raised power, Meets with lord Harry: and I fear, sir Michael,What with the sickness of Northumberland, (Whose power was in the first proportion,)

The special head of all the land together;-
The prince of Wales, lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more cor-rivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.

Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well oppos'd.

Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; And, to prevent the worst, sir Michael, speed For, if lord Percy thrive not, ere the king Dismiss his power, he means to visit us,-For he hath heard of our confederacy,— And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him; Therefore, make haste: I must go write again To other friends; and so farewell, sir Michael. [Exeunt severally.

(Trumpet.) Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.
How now, my lord of Worcester? 'tis not well,
That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet: You have deceiv'd our trust;
And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel:
This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
What say you to't? will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war?
And move in that obedient orb again,
Where you did give a fair and natural light;
And be no more an exhal'd meteor,
A prodigy of fear, and a portent

Of broached mischief to the unborn times?
Wor. Hear me, my liege:

For mine own part, I could be well content
To entertain the lag-end of my life
With quiet hours; for, I do protest,
I have not sought the day of this dislike.

K. Hen. You have not sought for it! how comes it then?

Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. P. Hen. Peace, chewet, peace.

Wor. It pleas'd your majesty to turn your looks Of favour, from myself, and all our house; And yet I must remember you, my lord, We were the first and dearest of your friends. For you, my staff of oflice did I break In Richard's time; and posted day and night To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,

When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
It was myself, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
The dangers of the time: You swore to us,-
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,-
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state;
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster:
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,
It rain'd down fortune showering on your head;
And such a flood of greatness fell on you,-
What with our help; what with the absent king;
What with the injuries of a wanton time;
The seeming sufferances, that you had borne;
And the contrarious winds, that held the king
So long in his unlucky Irish wars,
That all in England did repute him dead,-
And, from this swarm of fair advantages,
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
To gripe the general sway into your hand;
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster;
And, being fed by us, you us'd us so
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
Useth the sparrow: did oppress our nest;
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,
That even our love durst not come near your sight,
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were enforc'd, for safety sake, to fly
Out of your sight, and raise this present head:
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself;
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.
K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have arti-
culated,

Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches;
To face the garment of rebellion
With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
Which gape and rub the elbow, at the news
Of hurly burly innovation:

And never yet did insurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his cause;
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
Of pell-mell havock and confusion.

P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
The prince of Wales doth join with all the world
In praise of Henry Percy: By my hopes,-
This present enterprise set off his head,-
I do not think, a braver gentleman,
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry;
And so, I hear, he doth account me too:
Yet this before my father's majesty,-
I am content, that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation;
And will, to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.

K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we venAlbeit, considerations infinite [turn thee, Do make against it:-No, good Worcester, no, We love our people well; even those we love, That are misled upon your cousin's part: And, will they take the offer of our grace, Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his. So tell your cousin, and bring me word What he will do:-But if he will not yield, Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, And they shall do their office. So, be gone; We will not now be troubled with reply:

We offer fair, take it advisedly.

[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon. P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life: The Douglas and the Hotspur both together Are confident against the world in arms.

K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge;

For, on their answer, will we set on them:
And God befriend us, as our cause is just!

[Exeunt King, Blunt, and Prince John, Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.

P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell.

Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit. Fal. "Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning!-Who hath it? He that died o'Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it-therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism. [Exit.

SCENE II.-The Rebel Camp. Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.

Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, sir The liberal kind offer of the king. [Richard,

Ver. 'Twere best, he did.
Wor.
Then are we all undone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,
The king should keep his word in loving us;
He will suspect us still, and find a time
To punish this offence in other faults:
Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes:
For treason is but trusted like the fox;
Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd 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.

By now forswearing that he is forsworn:
He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.

SCENE III.-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

Re-enter Douglas.

thrown

Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have Thou crossest me? What honour dost thou seek
Upon my head?
Doug. Know then, my name is Douglas ;
Because some tell me, that thou art a king.
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,
Blunt. They tell thee true.

Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath
bought

A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth,
And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear it;
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.
Wor. The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before
the king,

And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight.
Hot. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads;
And that no man might draw short breath to-
day,

But I, and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me,
How show'd his tasking? 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
Upon his follies; never did I hear
Of any prince, so wild, at liberty:
But, be he as he will, yet once ere night
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesy.-
Arm, arm, with speed:-And, fellows, soldiers,
friends,

Better consider what you have to do,
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.
Hot. I cannot read them now.-
O gentlemen, the time of life is short;
To spend that shortness basely, were too long,
If life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
An if we live, we live to tread on kings;
If die, brave death, when princes die with us!
Now for our conscience,-the arms are fair,
When the intent of bearing them is just.

Enter another Messenger.

Mess. My lord, prepare; the king comes on
apace.

Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale,
For I profess not talking; only this-
Let each man do his best: and here draw I
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
Now,-Esperance!-Peroy! 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.

[The trumpets sound. They embrace,

exeunt.

and

This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee,
Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry,
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.

Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedor I never had triumph'd upon a Scot.

[thus,
Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies
Hot. Where?
[the king.
Doug. Here.
[well:
Hot. This, Douglas? no, I know this face full
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?

Hot. The king bath 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.

Up, and 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 the pate.-Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blant ;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 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?

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

Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thon 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 now? [Throws it at him, and exit. Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If in his, willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. he do come in my way, so: if he do not, if I come 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. Alarms. Excursions. Enter the King, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN, and Westmoreland. K. Hen. I pr'ythee,

Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much:-
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
P.John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.

K. Hen. I will do so :

My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your [help: P. Hen. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch should

tent.

drive

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 deceived me,
Lancaster,

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.

O, this boy

P. Hen.

Lends mettle to us all.

[Exit.

Alarums. Enter DOUGLAS.

Doug. Another King! they grow like Hydras' I am the Douglas, fatal to all those [heads: That wear those colours on them.-What art thou, That counterfeit'st the person of a king?

K.Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart,

So many of his shadows thou hast met,
And not the very king. I have two boys,
Seek Percy and thyself, about the field:
Bat, 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 Never to hold it up again! the spirits [like 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; And show'd, thou mak'st some tender of my life, In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.

P. Hen. O heaven! they did me too much injury, 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 Nicholas Gawsey. [Exit King Henry.

Enter HOTSPUR.

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.
To share with me in glory any more:
I am the prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,
Nor can one England brook a double reign,
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere;
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
thee;
I'll crop, to make a garland for my head.
Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities.
(They fight.)

Enter FALSTAFF.

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 Douglas. Hotspur is wounded, and falls.

Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth: I better brook the loss of brittle life, 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 fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophecy,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue:-No, Percy, thou art dust,
And food for-
(Dies.)
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 dead,
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
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 ignominy 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.) Embowell'd! if thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder me, and eat me too, to-morrow. 'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? 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

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The Works of Shakspeare: From the Text of Johnson, Steevens, and Reed