Shakespeare's First Folio Part 304

Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth

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

Hot. My name is Harrie Percie

Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name.

I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere, Nor can one England brooke a double reigne, Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales

Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is come To end the one of vs; and would to heauen, Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine

Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee, And all the budding Honors on thy Crest, Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head

Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.

Fight.

Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde no Boyes play heere, I can tell you.

Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down as if he were dead.

The Prince killeth Percie.

Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth: I better brooke the losse of brittle life, Then those proud t.i.tles thou hast wonne of me, They wound my thoghts worse, then the sword my flesh: But thought's the slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole; And Time, that takes suruey of all the world, Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie, But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death, Lyes on my Tongue: No Percy, thou art dust And food for- Prin. For Wormes, braue Percy. Farewell great heart: Ill-weau'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunke?

When that this bodie did containe a spirit, A Kingdome for it was too small a bound: But now two paces of the vilest Earth Is roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead, Beares not aliue so stout a Gentleman.

If thou wer't sensible of curtesie, I should not make so great a shew of Zeale.

But let my fauours hide thy mangled face, And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfe For doing these fayre Rites of Tendernesse.

Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heauen, Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the graue, But not remembred in thy Epitaph.

What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh Keepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell: I could haue better spar'd a better man.

O, I should haue a heauy misse of thee, If I were much in loue with Vanity.

Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day, Though many dearer in this b.l.o.o.d.y Fray: Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by, Till then, in blood, by n.o.ble Percie lye.

Enter.

Falstaffe riseth vp.

Falst. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow.

'Twas time to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot, had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit; to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeede.

The better part of Valour, is Discretion; in the which better part, I haue saued my life. I am affraide of this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would proue the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure: yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh come you along me.

Takes Hotspurre on his backe.

Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster.

Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou flesht thy Maiden sword

Iohn. But soft, who haue we heere?

Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead?

Prin. I did, I saw him dead, Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou aliue?

Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight?

I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyes Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st

Fal. No, that's certaine: I am not a double man: but if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Percy, if your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or Duke, I can a.s.sure you

Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead

Fal. Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee beleeued, so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death I gaue him this wound in the Thigh: if the man were aliue, and would deny it, I would make him eate a peece of my sword

Iohn. This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard

Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn.

Come bring your luggage n.o.bly on your backe: For my part, if a lye may do thee grace, Ile gil'd it with the happiest tearmes I haue.

A Retreat is sounded.

The Trumpets sound Retreat, the day is ours: Come Brother, let's to the highest of the field, To see what Friends are liuing, who are dead.

Exeunt.

Fal. Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that rewards me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again, Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and liue cleanly, as a n.o.bleman should do.

Exit

Scaena Quarta.

The Trumpets sound.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland, with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners.

King. Thus euer did Rebellion finde Rebuke.

Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace, Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you?

And would'st thou turne our offers contrary?

Misuse the tenor of thy Kinsmans trust?

Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day, A n.o.ble Earle, and many a creature else, Had beene aliue this houre, If like a Christian thou had'st truly borne Betwixt our Armies, true Intelligence

Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to, And I embrace this fortune patiently, Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee

King. Beare Worcester to death, and Vernon too: Other offenders we will pause vpon.

Exit Worcester and Vernon.

How goes the Field?

Prin. The n.o.ble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee saw The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, The n.o.ble Percy slaine, and all his men, Vpon the foot of feare, fled with the rest; And falling from a hill, he was so bruiz'd That the pursuers tooke him. At my Tent The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace, I may dispose of him

King. With all my heart

Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster, To you this honourable bounty shall belong: Go to the Dowglas, and deliuer him Vp to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free: His Valour shewne vpon our Crests to day, Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds, Euen in the bosome of our Aduersaries

King. Then this remaines: that we diuide our Power.

You Sonne Iohn, and my Cousin Westmerland Towards Yorke shall bend you, with your deerest speed To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope, Who (as we heare) are busily in Armes.