Fal.

Imbowell'd!—if thou imbowel me to day, I'll give you leave to * ^notepowder me, and eat me 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. I am afraid of this gun-powder 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 kill'd him. Why may not he rise as well as I? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no body sees me. Therefore, sirrah, with a new wound in your thigh come you along with me.