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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! 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. Enter DOUGLAS; he fights with FALSTAFF, who falls down as if he were dead, and exit DougLAS. HOTSPUP is wounded, and falls. Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my I better brook the loss of brittle life, [youth, Than those proud titles thou hast won of me; They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword my flesh:[fool; But thought's the slave of life, and life time's 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, [Dies. P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy: Fare thee well, great heart!

And food for

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
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. [dead,
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 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 slowy.] Embowelled! if thou embower me to-day, I'll give you leave to powdert 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? 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

Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face. + Salt.

well as I? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirral, [Stabbing him.] with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me. [Takes HOTSPUR n his back.

Re-enter Prince HENRY and Prince JOHN.

P. Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely. hast thou flesh'd

Thy maiden sword.

P. John. But, soft! whom have we here? Did you not tell me, this fat man wa dead? P. Hen. I did; I saw him dead, breathless and bleeding Upon the ground.

Art thou alive? or is it fantasy That plays upon our eyesight? I pr'ythee [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.

P. Hen. 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 arose 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, I would make him eat a piece of my sword.

P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard.

P. Hen. 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's to the highest of the field, To see what friends are living, who are dead.

[Exeunt Prince HENRY and Prince JOEN. 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, bearing off the body.

SCENE V.-Another part of the Field. The Trumpets sound.-Enter King HENRY, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN, WESTMORBLAND, and others with WORCESTER, and VERNON, prisoners.

K. Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find re

buke.

Ill-spirited Worcester! did we not send grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you?
And would'st 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 urged me
And I embrace this forture patiently,
[to;
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?

P. Hen. The noble Scot, lord Douglas, when he saw

The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
The noble Percy slain, and all his men
Upon the foot of fear,-fled with the rest;
And, falling from a hill, he was so bruis'd,
That the pursuers took him. At my tent
The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace,
I may dispose of him.

K. Hen. With all my heart.

[you

P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster to This honourable bounty shall belong: Go to the Douglas, and deliver him Up to his pleasure, ransomless, and free: His valour, shown upon our creats to-day,

Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, Even in the bosom of our adversaries.

K. Hen. Then this remains,-that we divide our power.

You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest speed,

To meet Northumberland, and the prelate
Scroop,

Who, as we hear, are busily in arms.
Myself, and you, son Harry,-will towards
Wales,

To fight with Glendower, and the earl of March
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Meeting the check of such another day:
And since this business so fair is done,
Let us not leave till all our own he won.
Exeunt

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Warkworth.—Before Northumberland's Castle.
Enter RUMOUR, painted full of Tongues.
Rum. Open your ears; For which of you
will stop
[speaks?
The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour
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 tongues 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 but only I,
Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence;
Whilst the big year, swol'n with some other
grief,

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 blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomize

Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
I run before king Harry's victory;
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,

Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
troops,
Even with the rebel's 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 that 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 thein brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me; From Rumour's
tongues

They bring smooth comforts false, worse than [Exit

true wrongs.

ACT I.

SCENE 1.-The same.-The PORTER before the

Gate; Enter Lord BARDOLPH.

Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho?— Where is the earl?

Port. What shall I say you are?

-Northumberland castle.

Bara. 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.
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.

Bard. Noble earl,

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

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
Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day, [John,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not, till now, to dignify the times,
Since Cæsar's fortunes!

North. How is this deriv'd?

Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence;

A gentleman well bred, and of good name, That freely render'd me these news for true. North. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom I sent

On Tuesday last to listen after news.

Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; And he is furnish'd with no certainties, More than he haply may retain from me.

Enter TRAVERS.

North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come with you?

Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back

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 bad 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. Ha!

-Again.

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North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title
leaf,

So looks the strond, whereon the imperious
Fortells the nature of a tragic volume:
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.†
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
[flood
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask,
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;
To fright our party.

North. How doth my son, and brother?
Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in 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,
And would have told him, half his Troy was
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,

But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue, burn'd: And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it. This thou would'st say,-Your son did thus, and thus, [las;

Your brother, thus; so fought the noble DougStopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds: But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed, Ending with-brother, son, and all are dead. Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, But, for my lord your son,

North. Why, he is dead.

[yet:

He, that but fears the thing he would not See, what a ready tongue suspicion bath? know, [eyes, That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others'

Morton;

Tell thou thy eari, 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

dead.

I see a strange confession in thine eye: [sin,
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear or
The tongue offends not, that reports his death:
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so:
And he doth sin, that doth belie the dead;
Not he, which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome new
Hath but a losing office; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd knolling a departing friend.
Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son .

dead.

Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to be-
lieve

That, which I would to heaven I had not seen:
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,

Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out

Of Hotspur, coldspur? that rebellion

Had met ill-luck!

Burd. My lord, I'll tell you what;—

If my young lord your son have not the day,

Upon mine honour, for a silken point;
I'll give my barony: never talk of it.

breath'd

To Harry Monmouth: whose swift wrath
beat down

The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung
[up.
In few, his death (whose spirit lent a fire

North. Why should the gentleman, that rode Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,)

by Travers,

Give then such instances of loss?

Bard. Who, he?

Being bruited once, took fire and heat away

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From the best temper'd courage in his troops:
For from his metal was his party steel'd;
Which once in him abated, all the rest
iurn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy
And as the thing that's heavy in itself, [lead.
Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed;
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their
fear,

That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim,
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field: Then was that noble Wor-

cester

Too soon ta'en prisoner: and that furious Scot, The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword Had three times slain the appearance of the [king, 'Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame Of those that turn'd their backs; and, in his [flight, Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all Is,that the king hath won; and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, Under the conduct of young Lancaster, And Westmoreland: this is the news at full. North. For this I shall have time enough to

mourn.

In poison there is physic; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me
sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me
[well:
And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd
joints,

Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms; even so my limbs,
Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with
grief,

Are thrice themselves: hence therefore, thou nicet crutch;

A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, Must glove this hand and hence, thou sickly quoif,!

Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to

hit.

Now bind my brows with iron; and approach The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring,

To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland! Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not nature's hand

Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die!
And let this world no longer be a stage,
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead!

Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.

Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from

your honour.

Mor. The Lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health; the which, if you give To stormy passion, must perforce decay. [o'er You cast the event of war, my noble lord," And summ'd the account of chance, before you said,

Let us make head. It was your presurmise, That in the doles of blows your son might drop:

You knew, he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge,
More likely to fall in, than to get o'er:
You were advis'd, his flesh was capable

* T-t fail. + Trifling. + Cap. § Distribution.

Of wounds, and scars; and that his forward spirits [rang'd; Yet did you say,-Go forth; and none of this, Would lift him where most trade of danger Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-berne action: What hath then befallen,

Or what hath this bold enterprize brought forth, More than that being which was like to be?

Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss,
That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one.
Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas,
Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd;
And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd
And, since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth; body, and goods.
Mor. 'Tis more than time: And, my most
noble lord,

The gentle archbishop of York is up,
I hear for certain, and do speak the truth,-
With well-appointed powers; he is a man,
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corps,
But shadows, and the shows of men, to fight:
For that same word, rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls;
And they did fight with queasiness, † con-
strain'd,

As men drink potions; that their weapons only
Seem'd on our side, but, for their spirits and
This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,
souls,
As fish are in a pond: But now the bishop
Turns insurrection to religion:

Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts,
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
He's follow'd both with body and with mind;
Of fair king Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret

stones.

Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause; Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, And more, and less, do flock to follow him. North. I knew of this before; but, to speak

truth,

Go in with me; and counsel every man
This present grief hath wip'd it from my mind.
The aptest way for safety, and revenge:
Get posts, and letters, and make friends with
Never so few, and never yet more need.
speed;

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-London.-A Street. Enter Sir JouN FALSTAFF, with his PAGE bearing his Sword and Buckler. Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?

good healthy water: but, for the party that Page. He said, Sir, the water itself was a owed it, he might have more diseases than he

knew for.

Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird|| at clay, man, is not able to vent any thing that me: The brain of this foolish-compounded tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is inbut the cause that wit is in other men. I do vented on me: I am not only witty in myself, here walk before thee, like a sow, that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince put thee into my service for any other judgement. Thou whoreson mandrake,¶ thou reason than to set me off, why then I have no

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