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


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

And all the budding honors on thy crest
I'll crop, to make a garland for my head.
Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities.

[they fight.


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;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,
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-weaved 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
Is room enough. This earth, that bears thee dead,
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
I should not make so dear a show of zeal :
But let my favors 1 hide thy mangled face;
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 sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph.

[he sees Falstaff on the ground. What! old acquaintance ! could not all this flesh Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell!

i Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face.

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Ac T. Scone IV.

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