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Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes !
Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats.
Up, and away; Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt.
Other Alarums. Enter FALSTAFF. Fal. Though I could ’scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the pate.-Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt :-there's honour for you: Here's no vanityS-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 raggamuffins where they are peppered : 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, standest thou idle here? lend me thy
sword : Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff, Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are unreveng'd: Prythee, lend thy sword.
Fal. O Hal, I pr’ythee, give me leave to breathe awhile.-Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure.
P. Hen. He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. Lend me thy sword, I pr’ythee.
Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Perey be alive, thou get'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, 'lis hot; there's that will sack a city.
[The Prince draws out a Bottle of Sack.
P. Hen. What, is't a time to jest and dally now?
[Throws it at him, and 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 Walter hath : Give me life: which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes anlooked for, and there's an end.
SCENE IV. Another part of the Field. Alarums: Excursions. Enter the KING, PRINCE
HENRY, PRINCE JOHN, and WESTMORELAND.
K. Hen. I pr’ythee,
P.John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make up,
K. 'Hen. I will do so :-
West. Come, my lord, I will 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 West
moreland, Our duty this way lies; for God's sake, come.
[Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland.
K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point,
0, this boy Lends mettle to us all!
Alarums. Enter DOUGLAS.
Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit;
Prince Henry. P. Hen. Hold up thy bead, vile Scot, or thou art like Never to hold it up again! the spirits Of Shirley, Stafford, Blant, 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.
K. Hen. Stay, and breathe awhile :-
P. Hen. O heaven! they did me too much injury,
[Erit King Henry.
Why, then I see
Hot. Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come
Þ. Hen. I'll make it greater, ere I part from thee;
to make a garland for my head.
fight. Enter FALSTAFF. 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. 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 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 earthly and cold hand of death Lies on my tongue :-No, Percy, thou art dust, And food for
[Dies. P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy: Fare thee well,
great heart! Il-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrank!
When that this body did contain a spirit,
should not make so dear a show of zeal:-
[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. 0, 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, Thongh many dearer, in this bloody fray Embowellid 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 too, to-morrow. Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and Jot 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 sare: 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,