SCENE III.
Enter Hotspur.
Hot.
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
Prin.
Thou speakest as if I would deny my Name.
Hot.
My Name is Harry Percy.
Prin.
Why then I see a very valiant Rebel of that 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 Heaven,
Thy Name in Arms, were now as great as mine.
Prin.
I'll make it greater, e're 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.
Fight.
Enter Falstaff.
Fal.
Well said, Hal, to it Hal. Nay, you shall find no Boys play
here, I can tell you.
Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaff, who falls down as if he is dead.
The Prince killeth Percy.
Hot.
Oh Harry thou hast rob'd me of my Youth:
I better brook the loss of bitter Life,
Than those proud Titles thou hast won of me,
They wound my Thoughts worse, than the Sword my Flesh:
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 Prophesie,
But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death,
Lyes on my Tongue: No, Percy, thou art dust
And food for—
Prin.
For Worms, brave Percy. Farewel great Heart:
Ill-weav'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunk?
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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 dead,
Bears not alive so stout a Gentleman.
Adieu, and take thy Praise with thee to Heaven,
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the Grave,
But not remembred in thy Epitaph.
What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewel:
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 stuck so fat a Dear to day,
Tho' many dearer in this bloody Fray:
Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by,
Till then, in blood by Noble Percy lye.
[Exit.
Falstaff riseth up.
Falst.
Imbowelled! if thou imbowel me to day, I'll give you leave
to powder me, and eat me too to morrow. 'Twas time to counterfeit,
or that hot Termagant Scot had paid me Scot and Lot too. Counterfeit!
I am no Counterfeit; to dye 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 have 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.
[Takes Hotspur on his back.
Enter Prince and John of Lancaster.
Prin.
Come Brother John, full bravely hast thou flesh'd thy Maiden
Sword.
John.
But soft, who have we here?
Did you not tell me this fat Man was dead?
Prin.
I did, I saw him dead,
Breathless, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou alive,
Or is it Fantasie that plays upon our Eye-sight?
I prethee speak, we will not trust our Eyes
Without our Ears. Thou art not what thou seem'st.
Falst.
No, that's certain: I am not a Double Man: but if I am not
Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack: There is Percy, if your Father will do
me any Honour, so; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look
either to be Earl or Duke, I can assure you.
Prin.
Why, Percy I kill'd my self, and saw thee dead.
Fal.
Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is given to Lying? I
-- 54 --
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't on 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.
John.
This is the strangest tale that e're I heard.
Prin.
This is the strangest Fellow, Brother John.
Come bring your [illeg.] on your back:
For my part, if a lye may do thee grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
A Retreat is sounded.
The Trumpets sound 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.
Fal.
I'll follow as they say, for Reward. He that rewards me, Heaven
reward him. If I do grow great again, I'll grow less? for I'll
purge, and leave Sack, and live cleanly, as a Noble man should do.
[Exit.
Thomas Betterton [1700], K. Henry IV with the humours of Sir John Falstaff. A tragi-comedy it is Acted at the Theatre in Little-Lincolns-Inn-Fields by His Majesty's Servants. Revived, with Alterations. Written Originally by Mr. Shakespear (Printed for R.W. and Sold by John Deeve [etc.], London) [word count] [S30900].
