K. Hen.
I pr'ythee,
Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much^{4 note}:—
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.

P. John.
Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.

P. Hen.
I beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends^{5 note}.

K. Hen.
I will do so:—
My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent.

West.
Come, my lord, I'll 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 triúmph in massacres!

P. John.
We breathe too long:—Come, cousin Westmoreland,
Our duty this way lies: for God's sake, come. [Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland.

P. Hen.
By heaven thou hast deceiv'd me, Lancaster,
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit:
Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John;
But now, I do respect thee as my soul.

K. Hen.
I saw him hold lord Percy at the point,
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior^{6 note}
.

P. Hen.
O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all! [Exit. Alarums. Enter Douglas.

Doug.
Another king! they grow like Hydra's 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?

K. Hen.
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.

Doug.
I fear thou art another counterfeit;
And yet in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king:
But mine, I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be,
And thus I win thee. [They fight; the King being in danger, enter P. Henry.

P. Hen.
Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up again! the spirits
Of valiant Shirley^{7 note}
, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms:
It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee;
Who never promiseth, but he means to pay^{8 note}

K. Hen.
Stay, and breathe a while:—
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion^{9 note}

In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.

P. Hen.
O heaven! they did me too much injury,
That ever said, I hearken'd for your death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting hand of Douglas over you;
Which would have been as speedy in your end,
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son.

K. Hen.
Make up to Clifton, I'll to sir Nicholas Gawsey. [Exit King Henry. Enter Hotspur.

Hot.
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.

P. Hen.
Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.

Hot.
My name is Harry Percy.

P. Hen.
Why, then I see
A very valiant rebel of the name.
I am the prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,
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. [They 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^{1 note},
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:—
But thought's the slave of life^{2 note}
, and life time's fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop^{3 note}

But that the earthy 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!—
Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk^{4 note}!
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^{5 note}

:—This earth that bears thee dead^{6 note},
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
I should not make so dear a show^{7 note} of zeal:—
But let my favours hide thy mangled face^{8 note}

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^{9 note}

Embowell'd will I see thee by and by^{3 note}

Fal. [Rising slowly.]

Embowelled! if thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder me^{3 note}, 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 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 me.

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 was dead?

P. Hen.
I did; I saw him dead, breathless and bleeding
On the ground^{4 note}
.—
Art thou alive? or is it phantasy
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^{5 note}

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 rose 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^{6 note}: 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 us to the highest of the field,
To see what friends are living, who are dead. [Exeunt Prince Henry and Prince John.

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.