* Now Esperance! Percy! and fo fet on: [The Trumpets found. 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, Dow. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought Unless thou yield thee as my prifoner. Blunt. I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot, Fight, Blunt is flain: then enter Hot-fpur. 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: Dozu. Ah! fool go with thy foul whither it goes! 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? [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. My Lord of Westmorland, lead him to his tent. 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; K. Henry. I faw him hold Lord Percy at the point, Of fuch an ungrown warrior. P. Henry. Oh, this boy Lends mettle to us all. [Exeunt. Manet King Henry. Enter Dowglas. 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, 2 Dow. Dow. I fear thou art another counterfeit : And yet, in faith, thou bear'ft thee like a King: 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; [They fight, Dowglas flyetb. K. Henry. Stay, and breathe a while. And fhew'd thou mak'ft fome tender of my life, P. Henry. O heav'n! they did me too much injury, 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. 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, 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. [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: And food for P. Henry. Worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well! A kingdom for it was too fmall a bound: Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead, If thou wert fenfible of courtefie, I should not make fo great a fhow of zeal. [Dies [He fees Falftaff. -What! old acquaintance! could not all this flesh Keep in a little life? poor Jack, farewel! Death |