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To share with me in glory any more:
Two starres keepe not their motion in one sphere,
Nor can one England brooke a double raigne,
Of Harry Percy, and the prince of Wales.

Hot. Now shall it Harry, for the houre is come,
To end the one of vs; and would to God,
Thy name in armes, were now as great as mine.

Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee,
And all thy budding honours on thy crest
Ile crop, to make a garland for my head.

Hot. I can no longer brooke thy vanities.

They fight. Enter Falstalffe. Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay, you shall find no boyes play here, I can tell you.

Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstalffe, he fals downe as if

he were dead, the prince killeth Percy.
Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast robd me of my youth,
I better broke the losse of brittle life,
Then those proud titles thou hast won of me,
They wound my thoughts worse, then the sword * my flesh:
But thought's the Naue of life, and lifetimes foole;
And time, that takes suruay of all the world,
Must haue a stop. O, I could prophesie,
But that the earth, and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue : no Percy, thou art dust,
And food for
Prin. For wormes, braue Percy. Fare thee well, great

Ill weau'd ambition, how much art thou shrunke?
When that this body did containe a spirit,
A kingdome for it, was too small a bound;

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But now two paces of the vilest earth,
Is roome enough: this earth that beares the dead,
Beares not aliue so lout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of curtefie,
I should not make so great a fhew of zeale:
But let my fauours hide thy mangled face,
And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my felfe
For doing these faire rites of tendernes,
Adieu, and take thy prayse with thee to heauen,
Thy ignomy * Neepe with thee in the graue,
But not remembred in thy epitaph.

He spieth Falstalffe on the ground.
What, old acquaintance, could not all this flesh
Keepe in a litle life? poore lacke farewell:
I could haue better spard a better man:
O, I should haue a heauy mille of thee,
If I were much in loue with vanitie;
Death hath not strooke so faire a deere to day,
Though many dearer in this bloody fray,
Imboweld will I fee thee by and by,
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie.

Falstalffe ryseth vp.
Fal. Imboweld ? if thou imbowell me to day, Ile giue you
leaue to powder me, and eate me too to morrow. Zloud,
t’was time to counterfeite, or that hot termagant Scot had
paide mee scot and lot too. Counterfeit ? I am no counter-
feit: to die is to be a counterfeit, for he is but the counter-
feit of a man, who hath not the life of a man : but to coun
terfcit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be no coun-
terfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed. The
better part of valour is discretion; in the which better part, I
haue faued my life. Zounds I am afraid of this gunpowder

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Percie, though he be dead : how if he should counterfeit too, and rise? by my fayth, I am afraide he would proue the better counterfeit? therefore Ile make him sure; yea, and Ile sweare I kilde * him. Why may not he rise as well as I? nothing confutes me but eyes, and no body sees me: therefore firra, with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me.

He takes vp Hotspur on his backe. Enter prince and Iohn of

Prin. Come brother Iolin, full brauely halt thou ficht
Thy mayden sword.

lohn. But soft, who have we heere?
Did you not tell me this fatt man was dead?

Prin. I did, I saw him dead,
Breathles and bleeding on the ground. Art thou alive?
Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-fight?
I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyes
Without our eares, thou art not what thou seemst.

Fal. No, thats certaine, I am not a double man: but if I be not lacke Falstalife, then am I a iacke: there is Percy; if your father will doe me any honour, so: if not, let him kill the next Percy himseife: I looke to be either earle or duke, I can assure you.

Prin. Why Percy I kild + my selfe, and saw thee dead.

Fal. Didlt thou ? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen to lying? I graunt you, I was downe, and out of breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long houre by Shreweskury clocke, if I may be beleeued, fo: if not, let them that should reward valour, beare the finne vpon their owne heads. Ile take it vpon my death, I gaue him this wound in the thigh, if the man were aliue, and would deny it, zounds I would make him eate a peece of my sword.

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lohn. This is the strangest talc that euer I heard.

Prin. This is the strangest fellow, brother lohn,
Come bring your luggage nobly on your backe,
For my part, if a lie

doe thee

Ile guilde it with the happiest tearmes I haue.

A retreat is founded, Prin. The trumpets sound retreat, the day is ours: Come brother, lets * to the highest of the field, To see what friendes are liuing, who are dead. Exeunt.

Fal. Ile follow as they say for reward. He that rewardes me, God reward him. If I doe grow great, Ile grow lesse ? for Ile purge, and leaue facke, and liue cleanly, as a nobleman should doe.


The trumpets found. Enter the king, prince of Wales, lord

Iohn of Lancaster, earle of Westmerland, with Worcester and Vernon prisoners.

King. Thus eller did rebellion find rebuke,
Ill spirited IVorcester, did not we send grace,
Pardon, and tearmes of loue to all of you?
And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary,
Misuse the tenor of thy kinsmans trust?
Three knights vpon our partie slaine to day,
A noble earle, and many a creature else,
Had been aliue this houre,
If like a christian thou hadît truly borne
Betwixt our armies true intelligence.

Wor. What I haue done, my fafetie vrgde me to,
And 1 imbrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be auoyded, it fals on me.

king. Beare Worcester to the death, and Vernon too:
Other offenders we will pause vpon.
How goes the field ?

let us.

Prin. The noble Scot, lord Dowglas, when he saw
The fortune of the day quite turnd from him,
The noble Percy Naine, and all his men,
Vpon the foot of feare, Aed with the rest;
And falling from a hill, he was so bruizd,
That the pursuers took him. At my tent,
The Dowglas is, and I beseech your grace,
I may dispose of him.

King. With all my heart.
Prin. Then brother lohn of Lancaster,

this honourable bountie shall belong,
Goe to the Dowglas, and deliuer him
Vp to his pleasure, ransomleste and free,
His valoure showne vpon our cretes to day,
Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deedes,
Euen in the bosome of our aduersaries.

To you

King. Then this remaines, that we deuide our power,
You fonne lohn, and my coofen Weftmerland,
Towards Yorke shall bend you with your deerest speed,
To meete Northumberland, and the prelate Scroope,
Who, as we hcare, are busily in armes :
My felfe and you, fonne Harry, will towards Wales,
To fight with Glendower, and the earle of March:
Rebellion in this land Mall loose his way,
Meeting the checke of such another day:
And since this businesse fo faire is done,
Let vs not leaue, till all our owne be won.


lobn. I thanke your grace for ibis bigb curtefie Wbicb I ball gine away immediately.

These two lines are in the edition in 1999, but omitted in all the others
I have fcen.

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