Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are unreveng'd: Pr'ythee, lend thy sword. Fal. O Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe 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. Hen. He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. I pr'ythee, lend me thy sword. Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy 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, 'tis 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 unlook'd for, and there's an end. SCENE IV. [Exit. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD. Alarums. Excursions. Enter the King, Prince Henry, Prince John, and Westmoreland. K. Hen. I pr'ythee, Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much: Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. P. John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make up, Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. K. Hen. I will do so: My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. 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 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, Lan caster, I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: But now, I do K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point, With lustier maintenance than I did look for Of such an ungrown warrior. P. Hen. Lends mettle to us all! O, this boy [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, 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 Prince Henry. P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like Never to hold it up again! the spirits Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion; And show'd, thou mak'st some tender of my life, 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 A 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. very valiant rebel of the name. Why, then I see I am the prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere; Hot. Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come thee; And all the budding honours on thy crest [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: 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; [Dies. P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy: Fare thee well, great heart! Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! A kingdom for it was too small a bound; Is room enough:-This earth, that bears thee dead, If thou wert sensible of courtesy, I should not make so dear a show of zeal:- |