Another Part of the Field. |
| |
Alarums. Excursions. Enter KING HENRY, the PRINCE, JOHN OF LANCASTER, and WEST-MORELAND. |
| K. Hen. I prithee, |
| Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much. |
| Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. |
| Lanc. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. |
| Prince. I 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'll lead you to your tent. |
| Prince. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help: |
| And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive |
| The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, |
| Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, |
| And rebels' arms triumph in massacres! |
| Lanc. We breathe too long: come, cousin Westmoreland, |
| Our duty this way lies: for God's sake, come. [Exeunt JOHN OF LANCASTER and WESTMORELAND. |
| Prince. By God, thou hast deceiv'd 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. |
| Prince. O! this boy |
| Lends mettle to us all. [Exit. |
| |
Alarums. Enter DOUGLAS. |
| Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra's heads: |
| I am the Douglas, fatal to all those |
| 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: |
| 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. KING HENRY being in danger, re-enter the PRINCE. |
| Prince. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like |
| Never to hold it up again! the spirits |
| Of valiant 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 awhile. |
| 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. |
| Prince. O God! 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. |
| |
Enter HOTSPUR. |
| Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. |
| Prince. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name. |
| Hot. My name is Harry Percy. |
| Prince. Why, then, I see |
| A very valiant rebel of that name. |
| I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, |
| 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! |
| Prince. I'll make it greater ere I part from thee; |
| 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. |
| |
Enter FALSTAFF. |
| Fal. Well said, Hal! to it, Hal! Nay, you shall find no boy's play here, I can tell you. |
| |
Re-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 prophesy, |
| But that the earthy and cold hand of death |
| Lies on my tongue. No, Percy, thou art dust, |
| And food for— [Dies. |
| Prince. 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 ignomy sleep with thee in the grave, |
| But not remember'd in thy epitaph! [He spies 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.] Embowelled! 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 gunpowder Percy though he be dead: how, if he should counterfeit too and rise? By my faith 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 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. [He takes HOTSPUR on his back. |
| |
Re-enter the PRINCE and JOHN OF LANCASTER. |
| Prince. Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh'd |
| Thy maiden sword. |
| Lanc. But, soft! whom have we here? |
| Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? |
| Prince. I did; I saw him dead, |
| Breathless and bleeding on the ground. |
| Art thou alive? or is it fantasy |
| That plays upon our eyesight? I prithee, 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. |
| Prince. 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 rose 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, 'zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my sword. |
| Lanc. This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard. |
| Prince. This is the strangest fellow, brother John. |
| 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 us to the highest of the field, |
| To see what friends are living, who are dead. [Exeunt the PRINCE and JOHN OF LANCASTER. |
| 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. |
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