*

Now Esperance! Percy! and fo fet on:
Sound all the lofty inftruments of war;
And by that mufick let us all embrace:
For (heav'n to earth) fome of us never shall
A fecond time do fuch a courtefie.

[The Trumpets found.
SCENE

They embrace, then exeunt.

VI.

The King entreth with his power; Alarm to the battle. Then enter Dowglas and Sir Walter Blunt.

Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus Do'ft cross me? and what honour doft thou seek Upon my head?

Dow. Know then, my name is Douglas,
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,
Because fome tell me that thou art a King.
Blunt. They tell thee true.

Dow. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought
Thy likeness; for inftead of thee, King Harry,
This fword hath ended him, fo fhall it thee,

Unless thou yield thee as my prifoner.

Blunt. I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot,
And thou shalt find a King that will revenge
Lord Stafford's death.

Fight, Blunt is flain: then enter Hot-fpur.
Hot. O Douglas, hadft thou fought at Holmedon thus,
1 never had triumphed o'er a Scot.

Daw. All's done, all's won, here breathlefs lyes the King, Hot. Where?

Dozu. Here.

Hot. This, Douglas? no: I know this face full well:
A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt,
Semblably furnish'd like the King himself.

Dozu. Ah! fool go with thy foul whither it goes!
A borrow'd title haft thou bought too dear.
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a King?
Hot. The King hath many marching in his coats.
Dow. Now by my fword, I will kill all his coats,

This was the word of battle on Percy's fide. See Hall's Chron. fol. 24.

I'll

I'll murther all his wardrobe piece by piece,

Until I meet the King.

Hot. Up and away,

Our foldiers ftand full fairly for the day.

[Exeunt. SCENE VII. Alarm, enter Falstaff.folus. Fal. Though I could 'fcape fhot-free at London, I fear the hot here: here's no fcoring, but upon the pate. Soft, who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt? there's honour for you; there's vanity: I am as hot as moulten lead, and as heavy too: heav'n keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my rag-o-muffians where they are pepper'd; there's not 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. Henry. What, ftand'ft thou idle here? lend me thy fword;

Many a noble man lyes ftark and stiff

Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,

Whofe deaths are unreveng'd. Lend me thy fword.

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

P. Henry. He is indeed, and living to kill thee: I pr'ythee, lend me thy fword.

Fal. Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'ft not my fword: but take my piftol if thou wilt.

P. Henry. Give it me: what, is it in the cafe?
Fal. Ay, Hal, 'tis hot. There's that will fack a city.
[The Prince draws out a bottle of Sack.
P. Henry. What, is't a time to jeft and dally now?

[Throws it at him, and exit. Fal. If Percy be alive, He'll pierce him; if he do come in my way, fo; if he do not, if I come in his, willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like not fuch grinning honour as Sir Walter hath: give me life, which if I can fave, fo; if not, honour comes unlook'd for, and there's an end.

[Exit.

SCENE

SCENE VIII.

Aarm, Excurfions, Enter the King, the Prince, Lord John of Lancaster, and the Earl of Westmorland.

K. Henry. I pr'ythee, Harry, withdraw thy felf, thou bleedeft too much: Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.

Lan. Not I, my Lord, unless I did bleed too.
P. Henry. I do befeech your Majefty make up,
Left your retirement do amaze your friends.
K. Henry. I will do fo:

My Lord of Westmorland, lead him to his tent.
Weft. Come, my Lord, I'll lead you to your tent.
P. Henry. Lead me, my Lord! I do not need your help,
And heav'n forbid a fhallow fcratch fhould drive
The Prince of Wales from fuch a field as this,
Where ftain'd nobility lyes trodden on,
And rebels arms triumph in maffacres !

Lan. We breathe too long; come, coufin Weftmorland, Our duty this way lyes, for heav'n's fake come.

P. Henry. By heav'n, thou haft deceiv'd me, Lancaster, I did not think thee lord of fuch a spirit:

Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John;
But now, I do refpect thee as my foul.

K. Henry. I faw him hold Lord Percy at the point,
With luftier maintenance than I did look for

Of fuch an ungrown warrior.

P. Henry. Oh, this boy

Lends mettle to us all.

[Exeunt.

Manet King Henry. Enter Dowglas.
Dow. Another King? they grow like Hydra's heads:

I am the Douglas fatal to all those

That wear thofe colours on them. What art thou

That counterfeit'ft the perfon of a King?

K. Henry. The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart

So many of his shadows thou haft met,
And not the very King. I have two boys
Seek Percy and thy felf about the field;
But feeing thou fall'ft on me fo luckily
I will affay thee: so defend thy self.

2

Dow.

Dow. I fear thou art another counterfeit :

And yet, in faith, thou bear'ft thee like a King:
But mine I'm fure thou art, who e'er thou be,
And thus I win thee. [They fight: the King being in danger.
Enter Prince Henry.

P. Henry. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like Never to hold it up again: the spirits

Of Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms;
It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
Who never promiseth, but means to pay.

[They fight, Dowglas flyetb.
Chearly, my Lord; how fares your
Grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawfey hath for fuccour fent,
And fo hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton ftrait.

K. Henry. Stay, and breathe a while.
Thou haft redeem'd my loft opinion,

And fhew'd thou mak'ft fome tender of my life,
In this fair rescue thou haft brought to me.

P. Henry. O heav'n! they did me too much injury,
That ever faid I hearken'd for your death.
If it were fo, I might have let alone
Th' infulting hand of Douglas over you,
Which would have been as speedy in your end,
As all the pois'nous potions in the world,
And fav'd the treach'rous labour of your fon.

K. Henry. Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nicholas Garfey.

SCENE IX. Enter Hot-fpur.

[Exit.

Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
P. Henry. Thou speak'ft as if I would deny my name.
Hot. My name is Harry Percy.

P. Henry. Then I fee

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 flars 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 fhall it, Harry, for the hour is come
To end the one of us; and would to heav'n

Thy

Thy name in arms were now as great as mine!

P. Henry. I'll make it greater, ere I part from thee; And all the budding honours on thy creft

I'll crop to make a garland for my head.
Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities.
Enter Falftaff.

[Fight.

Fal. Well faid, Hal; to it, Hal. Nay, you fhall find no boys' play here, I can tell you.

Enter Dowglas, be fights with Falftaff, who falls down as if he were dead. The Prince wounds Hot-fpur. Hot. Oh Harry, thou haft robb'd me of my youth: I better brook the lofs of brittle life,

Than those proud titles thou haft won of me;

They wound my thoughts worse than thy fword my flesh:
But thought's the flave of life, and life time's fool;
And time, that takes furvey of all the world,
Must have a ftop. O, I could prophefie,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lyes on my tongue: no, Percy, thou art duft,

And food for

P. Henry. Worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well!
Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk!
When that this body did contain a spirit,

A kingdom for it was too fmall a bound:
But now two paces of the vileft earth

Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead,
Bears not alive fo ftout a gentleman.

If thou wert fenfible of courtefie,

I should not make fo great a fhow of zeal.
But let my favours hide thy mangled face,
And ev'n in thy behalf, I'll thank my self
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heav'n;
Thy ignominy fleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph!

[Dies

[He fees Falftaff. -What! old acquaintance! could not all this flesh

Keep in a little life? poor Jack, farewel!
I could have better fpar'd a better man.
O, I fhould have a heavy mifs of thee,
If I were much in love with vanity.

Death