Falstaff.
K. Henry.
How bloodily the Sun begins to peer
Above yon busky Hill: The Day looks pale
At his Distemperature.
P. Henry.
The Southern Wind
Doth play the Trumpet to his Purposes,
And by his hollow whistling in the Leaves,
Foretels a Tempest, and a blust'ring Day.
K. Henry.
Then with the Losers let it sympathize,
For nothing can seem sower to them that win.
[The Trumpet sounds.
Enter Worcester.
K. Henry.
How now, my Lord of Wor'ster? 'Tis not well,
That you and I should meet upon such terms,
As now we meet. You have deceiv'd our Trust,
And made us doff our easie Robe of Peace,
-- 1191 --
To crush our old Limbs in ungentle Steel:
This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.
What say you to it? Will you again unknit
This churlish Knot of all-abhorred War;
And move in that obedient Orb again,
Where you did give a fair and natural Light,
And be no more an exhal'd Meteor,
A Prodigy of Fear, and a Portent
Of broached Mischief, to the unborn Times?
Wor.
Hear me, my Liege:
For mine own part, I could be well content
To entertain the Lag-end of my Life
With quiet Hours: For I do potest,
I have not sought the Day of this dislike.
K. Henry.
You have not sought it; how comes it then?
Fal.
Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
P. Henry.
Peace, Chewet, peace.
Wor.
It pleas'd your Majesty, to turn your Looks
Of Favour, from my Self, and all our House;
And yet I must remember you, my Lord,
We were the first, and dearest of your Friends:
For you, my Staff of Office did I break
In Richard's time, and posted Day and Night
To meet you on the way, and kiss your Hand,
When yet you were in place, and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate, as I;
It was my self, my Brother, and his Son,
That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare
The danger of the time. You swore to us,
And you did swear that Oath at Doncaster,
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the State,
Nor claim no further, than your new-fal'n Right,
The Seat of Gaunt, Dukedom of Lancaster.
To this, we sware our Aid: But in short Space,
It rain'd down Fortune showring on your Head,
And such a Flood of Greatness fell on you,
What with our help, what with the absent King,
What with the Injuries of wanton Time,
The seeming Sufferances that you had born,
And the contrarious Winds that held the King
So long in the unlucky Irish Wars,
-- 1192 --
That all in England did repute him dead;
And from this swarm of fair Advantages,
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd,
To gripe the general sway into your Hand:
Forgot your Oath to us at Doncaster,
And being fed by us, you us'd us so,
As that ungentle Gull, the Cuckow's Bird,
Useth the Sparrow, did oppress our Nest,
Grew by our Feeding, to so great a Bulk,
That even our Love durst not come near your Sight
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble Wing
We were inforc'd for safety's sake, to fly
Out of your Sight, and raise this present Head,
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
As you your self, have forg'd against your self,
By unkind Usage, dangerous Countenance,
And violation of all Faith and Troth
Sworn to us in your younger Enterprize.
K. Henry.
These things indeed you have articulated,
Proclaim'd at Market Crosses, read in Churches,
To face the Garment of Rebellion
With some fine Colour, that may please the Eye
Of fickle Changelings, and poor Discontents,
Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the News
Of hurly burly Innovation:
And never yet did Insurrection want
Such Water-colours, to impaint his Cause;
Nor moody Beggars, starving for a time
Of pell-mell Havock, and Confusion.
P. Henry.
In both our Armies, there is many a Soul
Shall pay full dearly for this Encounter,
If once they join in trial. Tell your Nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the World
In praise of Henry Percy: By my Hopes,
This present Enterprize set off his Head,
I do not think a braver Gentleman,
More Active, Valiant, or more valiant Young,
More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter Age with noble Deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my Shame,
I have a Truant been to Chivalry,
-- 1193 --
And so, I hear, he doth account me too:
Yet this before my Father's Majesty,
I am content that he shall take the odds
Of his great Name and Estimation,
And will, to save the Blood on either side,
Try Fortune with him, in a single Fight.
K. Henry.
And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,
Albeit, Considerations infinite
Do make against it: No, good Wor'ster, no,
We love our People well; even those we love
That are miss-led upon your Cousin's part:
And will they take the offer of our Grace;
Both he, and they, and you, yea, every Man
Shall be my Friend again, and I'll be his.
So tell your Cousin, and bring me word,
What he will do. But if he will not yield,
Rebuke and dread Correction wait on us,
And they shall do their Office. So be gone,
We will not now be troubled with Reply,
We offer fair, take it advisedly.
[Exit Worcester.
P. Henry.
It will not be accepted, on my Life,
The Dowglass and the Hot-spur both together,
Are confident against the World in Arms.
K. Henry.
Hence therefore, every Leader to his Charge,
For on their Answer will we set on them;
And God befriend us, as our Cause is just.
[Exeunt.
Manet Prince Henry and Falstaff.
Fal.
Hal, if thou see me down in the Battel,
And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of Friendship.
P. Henry.
Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that Friendship:
Say thy Prayers, and farewel.
Fal.
I would it were Bed-time, Hal, and all well.
P. Henry.
Why, thou owest Heav'n a Death.
Fal.
'Tis not due yet; I would be loth to pay him before
his Day. What need I be so forward with him that
call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honour pricks me
on. But how if Honour prick me off when I come on?
How then; can Honour set to a Leg? No. Or an Arm? No.
Or take away the Grief of a Wound? No. Honour hath
no Skill in Surgery then? No. What is Honour? A word.
What is that word Honour? Ayre; a trim reckoning. Who
-- 1194 --
hath it? He that dy'd a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No.
Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the
dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why?
Detraction will not suffer it, therefore I'll none of it. Honour
is a meer Scutcheon, and so ends my Catechism.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.
Wor.
O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
The liberal kind Offer of the King.
Ver.
'Twere best he did.
Wor.
Then we are all undone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,
The King would keep his Word in loving us,
He will suspect us still, and find a time
To punish this Offence in other Faults:
Suppose then, all our Lives shall be struck full of Eyes;
For Treason is but trusted like the Fox,
Who ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up,
Will have a wild trick of his Ancestors;
Look how we can, or sad, or merrily,
Interpretation will misquote our Looks,
And we shall feed like Oxen at a Stall,
The better cherish'd, still the nearer death.
My Nephew's Trespass may be well forgot,
It hath the excuse of Youth, and heat of Blood,
And an adopted Name of Privilege,
A hare-brain'd Hot-spur, govern'd by a Spleen:
All his Offences live upon my Head,
And on his Father's. We did train him on,
And his Corruption being ta'en from us,
We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all:
Therefore, good Cousin, let not Harry know,
In any case, the Offer of the King.
Ver.
Deliver what you will, I'll say 'tis so.
Here comes your Cousin.
Enter Hot-spur and Dowglass.
Hot.
My Uncle is return'd:
Deliver up, my Lord of Westmorland.
Uncle, what News?
-- 1195 --
Wor.
The King will bid you Battel presently.
Dow.
Defie him by the Lord of Westmorland.
Hot.
Lord Dowglass; go you and tell him so.
Dow.
Marry and shall, and very willingly.
[Exit Dowglass
Wor.
There is no seeming Mercy in the King.
Hot.
Did you beg any? God forbid.
Wor.
I told him gently of our Grievances,
Of his Oath-breaking; which he mended thus,
By now forswearing that he is forsworn,
He calls us Rebels, Traitors, and will scourge
With haughty Arms, this hateful Name in us.
Enter Dowglass.
Dow.
Arm, Gentlemen, to Arms, for I have thrown
A brave Defiance in King Henry's Teeth:
And Westmorland that was ingag'd did bear it,
Which cannot chuse but bring him quickly on.
Wor.
The Prince of Wales stept forth before the King,
And, Nephew, challeng'd you to single Fight.
Hot.
O, would the Quarrel lay upon our Heads,
And that no Man might draw short Breath to Day,
But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell me,
How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in Contempt?
Ver.
No by my Soul: I never in my Life
Did hear a Challenge urg'd more modestly,
Unless a Brother should a Brother dare,
To gentle Exercise and proof of Arms.
He gave you all the Duties of a Man,
Trim'd up your Praises with a princely Tongue,
Spoke your Deservings like a Chronicle,
Making you ever better than his Praise,
By still dispraising Praise, valu'd with you:
And which became him like a Prince indeed,
He made a blushing Cital of himself,
And chide his trewant Youth so with a Grace,
As if he master'd there a double Spirit
Of teaching and of learning instantly:
There did he pause. But let me tell the World,
If he out-live the Envy of this Day,
England did never owe so sweet a Hope,
So much misconstrued in his Wantonness.
-- 1196 --
Hot.
Cousin, I think thou art enamoured
On his Follies; never did I hear
Of any Prince so wild at Liberty.
But be he as he will, yet once e'er Night,
I will embrace him with a Soldier's Arm,
That he shall shrink under my Courtesie.
Arm, arm with speed. And Fellows, Soldiers, Friend
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.
Mes.
My Lord, here are Letters for you.
Hot.
I cannot read them now.
O Gentlemen, the time of Life is short;
To spend that Shortness basely were too long,
Tho Life did ride upon a Dial's Point,
Still ending at the Arrival of an Hour.
And 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 for bearing them is just.
Enter another Messenger.
Mes.
My Lord, prepare, the King comes on apace.
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 I draw my Sword,
Whose worthy 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 Musick, let us all embrace:
For Heav'n to Earth, some of us never shall,
A second time do such a courtesie.
They embrace, then Exeunt. The Trumpets sound, the
King entreth with his Power, alarm unto the Battel. Then
enter Dowglas and Sir Walter Blunt.
Blunt.
What is thy Name, that in Battel thus thou crossest me?
What Honour dost thou seek upon my Head?
Dow.
Know then, my Name is Dowglass,
And I do haunt thee in the Battel thus,
Because some tell me, that thou art a King.
-- 1197 --
Blunt.
They tell thee true.
Dow.
The Lord of Stafford dear to Day hath bought
Thy Likeness; for instead of thee, King Harry,
This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,
Unless thou yield thee as a Prisoner.
Blunt.
I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot,
And thou shalt find a King that will revenge
Lord Stafford's Death.
Fight, Blunt is slain, then enter Hot-spur.
Hot.
O Dowglass, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed o'er a Scot.
Dow.
All's done, all's won, here breathless lyes the King.
Hot.
Where?
Dow.
Here.
Hot.
This, Dowglass? No, I know this Face full well:
A gallant Knight he was, his Name was Blunt,
Semblably furnish'd like the King himself.
Dow.
Ah! Fool go with thy Soul whither it goes,
A borrow'd Title hast thou bought too dear.
Why didst thou tell me, that thou wert a King?
Hot.
The King hath many marching in his Coats.
Dow.
Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coats,
I'll murther all his Wardrobe Piece by Piece,
Until I meet the King.
Hot.
Up and away.
Our Soldiers stand full fairly for the Day.
[Exeunt.
Alarm, 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 art thou? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you;
here's no Vanity; I am as hot as moulten Lead, and as
heavy too: Heav'n keep Lead out of me, I need no more
Weight than mine own Bowels. I have led my Rag-o-Muffians
where they are pepper'd; there's not three of my
hundred and fifty left alive, and they for the Towns end
to beg during Life. But who comes here?
Enter Prince Henry.
P. Henry.
What stand'st thou idle here? lend me thy Sword,
Many a noble Man lyes stark and stiff
Under the Hoofs of vaunting Enemies,
Whose Deaths are unreveng'd. Prithee lend me thy Sword.
-- 1198 --
Fal.
O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breath a while.
Turk Gregory never did such Deeds in Arms, as I have
done this Day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure.
P. Henry.
He is indeed, and living to kill thee:
I prithee lend me thy Sword.
Fal.
Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my
Sword; but take my Pistol if thou wilt.
P. Henry.
Give it me: What, is it in the Case?
Fal.
Ay Hal. 'tis hot: There's that will sack a City.
[The Prince draws out a Bottle of Sack.
P. Henry.
What, is it a time to jest and dally now?
[Throws it at him, and Exit.
Fal.
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 unlook'd for, and there's
an end.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
Alarm, Excursions, Enter the King, the Prince, Lord John of Lancaster, and the Earl of Westmorland.
K. Henry.
I prithee, Harry, withdraw thy self, thou bleedest
too much: Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
Lan.
Not I, my Lord, unless I did bleed too.
P. Henry.
I beseech your Majesty make up,
Least your Retirement do amaze your Friends.
K. Henry.
I will do so:
My Lord of Westmorland, lead him to his Tent.
West.
Come my Lord, I'll lead you to your Tent.
P. Henry.
Lead me, my Lord! I do not need your Help,
And Heav'n forbid a shallow Scratch should drive
The Prince of Wales from such a Field as this,
Where stain'd Nobility lyes trodden on,
And Rebels Arms triumph in Massacres.
Lan.
We breath too long; come Cousin Westmorland,
Our Duty this Way lyes, for Heav'ns sake come.
P. Henry.
By Heav'n thou hast deceiv'd me, Lancaster,
I did not think thee Lord of such a Spirit:
-- 1199 --
Before, I lov'd thee as a Brother, John;
But now, I do respect thee as my Soul.
K. Henry.
I saw him hold Lord Percy at the Point,
With lustier Maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown Warrior.
P. Henry.
O this Boy, lends Mettle to us all.
[Exit.
Enter Dowglass.
Dow.
Another King? They grow like Hydra's Heads:
I am the Dowglass fatal to all those
That wear those Colours on them. What art thou
That counterfeit'st the Person of a King?
K. Henry.
The King himself; who, Dowglass, grieves at Heart
So many of his Shadows thou hast met,
And not the very King. I have two Boys
Seek Percy and thy self about the Field;
But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily
I will assay thee: So defend thy self.
Dow.
I fear thou art another Counterfeit;
And yet in faith thou bear'st thee like a King:
But mine I am sure thou art, who e'er thou be,
And thus I win thee.
[They fight: The King being in Danger,
Enter Prince Henry.
P. Henry.
Hold up thy Head, vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up again: The Spirits
Of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my Arms;
It is the Prince of Wales that threats thee,
Who never promiseth, but means to pay.
[They fight, Dowglass flyeth.
Chearly, my Lord; how fares your Grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for Succour sent,
And so hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton streight.
K. Henry.
Stay, and breath a while.
Thou hast redeem'd my lost Opinion,
And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my Life
In this fair Rescue thou hast brought to me.
P. Henry.
O Heav'n, they did me too much Injury,
That ever said I hearkned to your Death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting Hand of Dowglass over you,
Which would have been as speedy in your end,
-- 1200 --
As all the poisonous Potions in the World,
And sav'd the treacherous Labour of your Son.
K. Prince.
Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.
[Exit.
Enter Hot-spur.
Hot.
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
P. Henry.
Thou speakest as if I would deny my Name.
Hot.
My Name is Harry Percy.
P. Henry.
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 Heav'n
Thy Name in Arms were now as great as mine,
P. Henry.
I'll make it greater, e'er 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 Dowglass, he fights with Falstaff, who falls down as if he were dead. The Prince kills Percy.
Hot.
Oh 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:
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—
[Dies.
P. Henry.
For Worms, brave Percy. Farewel great Heart:
I'll-weav'd 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
-- 1201 --
Is room enough. This Earth that bears thee dead,
Bears not alive so stout a Gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of Courtesie,
I should not make so great a show of Zeal.
But let my Favours hide thy mangled Face,
And even in thy behalf, I'll thank my self
For doing these fair Rites of Tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to Heav'n,
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 struck so fat a Deer to Day,
Though 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.
Fal.
Imbowell'd! 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
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 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 Hot-spur on his Back.
Enter Prince Henry and John of Lancaster.
P. Henry.
Come Brother John, full bravely hast thou
flesht thy Maiden Sword.
-- 1202 --
Lan.
But soft, who have we here?
Did you not tell me this fat Man was dead?
P. Henry.
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
Fal.
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.
P. Henry.
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 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.
Lan.
This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard.
P. Henry.
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 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, Heav'n 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.
-- 1203 --
SCENE IV.
The Trumpets sound: Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales,
Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmorland, with Worcester
and Vernon Prisoners.
K. Henry.
Thus ever did Rebellion find Rebuke.
Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace,
Pardon, and terms of Love to all of you?
And would'st thou turn our Offers contrary?
Misuse the Tenor 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,
If like a Christian thou had'st truly born,
Betwixt our Armies, true Intelligence.
Wor.
What I have done, my safety urg'd me to,
And I embrace this Fortune patiently,
Since, not to be avoided, it falls on me.
K. Henry.
Bear Worcester to death, and Vernon too.
Other Offenders we will pause upon.
[Exit Worcester and Vernon.
How goes the Field?
P. Henry.
The noble Scot, Lord Dowglass, when he saw
The Fortune of the Day quite turn'd from him,
The noble Percy slain, and all his Men,
Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest;
And falling from a Hill, he was so bruiz'd
That the Pursuers took him. At my Tent
The Dowglass is, and I beseech your Grace,
I may dispose of him.
K. Henry.
With all my Heart.
P. Henry.
Then Brother John of Lancaster,
To you this Honourable Bounty shall belong:
Go to the Dowglass, and deliver him
Up to his Pleasure, ransomless and free:
His Valour shewn upon our Crests to Day,
Hath taught us how to cherish such high Deeds,
Even in the Bosom of our Adversaries.
-- 1204 --
K. Henry.
Then this remains; that we divide our Power.
You Son John, and my Cousin Westmorland,
Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest speed
To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroop,
Who, as we hear, are busily in Arms.
My self and Son Harry will towards Wales,
To fight with Glendower, and the Earl of March.
Rebellion in this Land shall lose his way,
Meeting the Check of such another Day;
And since this Business so far is done,
Let us not leave 'till all our own be won.
[Exeunt.
