there's honour for you: Here's no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: Heaven keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are pepper'd: 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?

Enter PRINCE HENRY.

P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here? lend me thy sword:

Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are unrevenged: Prithee, lend me
thy sword.

Fal. O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe awhile.-Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have paid Percy,

1 have made him sure.

P. Hen. He is, indeed: and living to kill thee. I prithee, lend me thy sword.

Fal. Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive thou gett'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 it a time to jest and dally now? [Throws it at him, and exit. Fal. 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 carbonado of me. I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter bath: Give me life, which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes unlooked for, and there's an end.

SCENE IV. Another part of the Field.

[Exit.

Alarums, excursions. Enter the KING, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN, and WESTMORELAND.

K. Hen. I prithee,

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 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. P. Hen. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your

help:

And Heaven 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!

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, Lan

caster,

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.

R. 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 metal to us all.

[Exit.

I

Alarums. Enter DOUGLAS.

Doug. Another king! they grow like Ilydras heads:

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; 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 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 ine.
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 mistakenot, thou art Harry Monmouth, P. Hen. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my

name.

Hot. My name is Harry Percy.
P. Hen.

A very valiant rebel of that name.

Why, then I see

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 co me
To end the one of us; And would to Heaven,
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine!
P. Hen. 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.

Enter FALSTAFF.

[They fight.

Fal. Well said, Hal! to it, Hal!-Nay, you shall find no boy's play here, I can tell you.

[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

But, soft! who have we here? Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? P. Hen. I did; I saw him dead, Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Art thou alive?

Or is it phantasy that plays upon our eyesight? I prithee, speak; we will not trust our eyes Without our ears:

Thou art not what thou seem'st.

Ful. 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 kill'd myself, and saw thee dead.

Fal. Didst thou?-Lord, Lord, how the 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,

dead,

Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.

If thou wert sensible of courtesy,

I should not make so great 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 powder me and eat me to-morrow. 'Sblood, 'twas time 10 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? 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 :ne 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.

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

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 rebuke.
Ill-spirited Worcester! did we not send grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you?
And wouldst 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 to;

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:

Other offenders we will pause upon.

[Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON, guarded How goes the field?

King HENRY IV.

Rumour. A Porter.

A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue. Lady NORTHUMBERLABD and Lady PERCY. Hostess QUICKLY.

DOLL TEARSHEET.

Warkworth. Before Northumberland's Castle.
Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues.
Rum. Open your ears: For which of you will
stop

The vent of bearing when loud Rumour speaks?
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 tongue 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 bat only I,
Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence,
Whilst the big year svolu with some other griefs,
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 blant monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude

| Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomise
Among my household? Why is Rumour bere?
I run before King Harry's victory;
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,
Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
Even with the rebels' 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 towns
Between the 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
tongues

They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs Exit.

SCENE I.-The same.

The Porter before the Gate; Enter Lord

BARDOLPH.

Of Hotspur, coldspur? that rebellion Had met ill luck?

Port. What shall I say you are?

L. 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.

L. 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.

L. Bard.

Noble earl,

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

L. 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 Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas: young Prince
John,

And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn. the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not, till now, to diguify the times,
Since Cæsar's fortunes!

On Tuesday last to listen after news.

L. Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way;

And he is furnish'd with no certainties,
More than he haply may retail from me.
Enter TRAVERS.

North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come
with you?
[back
Trav. My lord, Sir John Umfreville turn'd me
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 horse:
He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me, that rebellion had ill 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.

Hal- -Again.

Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold?

I'll give my barony: never talk of it.
North. Why should the gentleman that rode
by Travers

Give then such instances of loss?
L. Bard.
Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow, that had stolen
The horse he rode on; and, upon my life,
Spake at a venture. Look, here comes more

news.

Enter MORTON.

North. Yes, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume: So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood Hath left a witness'd usurpation.

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 cur party.

North. How doth my son, and brother? Thou tremblest; and the whiteness of 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 wouldst say,-Your son did thus, and

thus:

Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:
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, yet:
But, for my lord your son,-

North.

Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes,
He that but fears the thing he would not know,
Yet speak,

That what he fear'd is chanced.
Morton;

Tell thou thy earl his divination lies;
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace,
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid:
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.

North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's
I see a strange confession in thine eye: [dead.
Thou shak'st thy head; and hold'st it fear, or sin,
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.

L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is

dead.

Mor. I am sorry I should force you to believe That which I would to heaven I had not seen: