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Enter HOTSPUR.

There did he pause: but let me tell the world,
If he outlive the envy of this day,
England did never owe so sweet a hope,

So much misconstrued in his wantonness.

Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,

Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured 70 I never had triumph'd upon a Scot.

On his follies: never did I hear

Of any prince so wild a libertine.

But be he as he will, yet once ere night

I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,

That he shall shrink under my courtesy.

Arm, arm with speed: and, fellows, soldiers, friends,

Better consider what you have to do

Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

Enter a Messenger.

you.

Mess. My lord, here are letters for
Hot. I cannot read them now.
O gentlemen, the time of life is short!
To spend that shortness basely were too long,
If life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
An if we live, we live to tread on kings;

If die, brave death, when princes die with us!
Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair,
When the intent of bearing them is just.

Enter another Messenger.

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Mess. My lord, prepare; the king comes on apace. 90

Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale,

For I profess not talking; only this

Let each man do his best: and here draw I
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on.
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace;
For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.

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[The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt.

SCENE III. Plain between the camps.

The KING enters with his power. Alarum to the battle. Then enter DoUGLAS and SIR WALTER BLUNT.

Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle
thus

Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek
Upon my head?
Doug

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

Doug. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath
bought

Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the king.

Hot. Where?
Doug. Here.

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Alarum. Enter FALSTAFF, solus.

Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring but upon the pate. Soft! who are you? Sir Walter Blunt: there's honour for you! here's no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: God keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered: 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 the PRINCE.

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Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt.

Prince.

now?

Prince. 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 it out, and finds it to be a bottle of sack. What, is it a time to jest and dally [He throws the bottle at him. Exit. Fal. Well, 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 And thou shalt find a king that will revenge Walter hath: give me life: which if I can save, Lord Stafford's death. They fight. Douglas so; if not, honour comes unlooked for, and there's

Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry,
This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee,
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. 10
Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud
Scot:

kills Blunt. an end.

[Exit.

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Enter DOUGLAS.*

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

Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra's Re-enter DOUGLAS; he fights with FALSTAFF,

heads:

I am the Douglas, fatal to all those

That wear those colours on them: what art thou,
That counterfeit'st the person of a king?

King 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.

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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.
King. Stay, and breathe awhile:

Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion,

who falls down as if he were dead, and exit DOUGLAS. HOTSPUR is wounded, and falls. Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth!

I better brook the loss of brittle life

Than those proud titles thou hast won of me;
They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword
my flesh:
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But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool;
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,
And food for-
[Dies.
Prince. For worms, brave Percy: fare thee
well, great heart!

Ill-weaved 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

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Is room enough: this earth that bears thee dead
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman..
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!

And show'd thou makest some tender of my life, Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,

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But not remember'd in thy epitaph!

He spieth Falstaff on the ground. What, old acquaintance! could not all this flesh Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell! I could have better spared 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. 110 Fal. [Rising up] Embowelled! if thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder 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? by my faith, 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 me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah [stabbing him), with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with [Takes up Hotspur on his back.

me.

Re-enter the PRINCE OF WALES and LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER.

Prince. Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh'd

Thy maiden sword. 'Lan. But, soft! whom have we here? Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? Prince. I did; I saw him dead, Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Art thou alive?

Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? I prithee, speak; we will not trust our eyes 139 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.

Prince. 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 rose both at an instant and fought a long hour by Shrews bury 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, 'zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my sword.

Lan. This is the strangest tale that ever I heard. Prince. This is the strangest fellow, brother John.

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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 us to the highest of the field, To see what friends are living, who are dead.

[Exeunt Prince of Wales and Lancaster. 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.

SCENE V. Another part of the field.

The trumpets sound. Enter the KING, PRINCE
OF WALES, LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, EARL
OF WESTMORELAND, with WORCESTER and
VERNON prisoners.

King. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.
Ill-spirited Worcester! did not we send grace,
Pardon and terms of love to all of you?
And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary?
Misuse the tenour 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,

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King. With all my heart. Prince. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you This honourable bounty shall belong: Go to the Douglas, and deliver him Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free: His valour shown upon our crests to-day Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds Even in the bosom of our adversaries.

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Lan. I thank your grace for this high courtesy, Which I shall give away immediately. King. 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 be won. [Exeunt.

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INDUCTION.

Warkworth. Before the castle.

Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues. Rum. Open your ears; for which of you will

stop

The vent of hearing 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 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 prepared defence,
Whiles the big year, swoln 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

ΙΟ

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Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, Quenching the flame of bold rebellion

Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I

SHALLOW,}

SILENCE, country justices.

DAVY, Servant to Shallow.

MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, and

BULLCALF, recruits.

FANG and SNARE, sheriff's officers.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND.

LADY PERCY.

MISTRESS QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap.

DOLL TEARSHEET.

Lords and Attendants; Porter, Drawers, Beadles,

Grooms, &c.

A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue. SCENE: England.

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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 them brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's
tongues

They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs,

ACT I.

SCENE I. The same.

Enter LORD BARDOLPH.

[Exit. 40

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And he is furnish'd with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me.
North. Now, Travers, what good tidings
comes with you?

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

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With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed,
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:
Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?
Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion
Had met ill luck?

L. Bard.

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.

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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 our party.

North.

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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,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
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 my 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.

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

Morton;

Tell thou an earl his divination lies,
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. 90
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 eve:
Thou shakest 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 tolling a departing friend.
L. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son
is dead.

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Mor. I am sorry I should force you to believe That which I would to God I had not seen : But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rendering faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,

To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down

The never-daunted Percy to the earth,

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North. Why should that gentleman that rode From whence with life he never more sprung up.

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In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,

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