Enter Falstaff.

Fal, Well faid, Hal: to it, Hal. Nay, you shall find no boy's play here, I can tell you.

Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaff, who falls down as if he were dead. The Prince kills Percy.

Hot. O, Harry, thou haft robb'd me of my youth : I better brook the loss of brittle life,

Than those proud Titles thou haft won of me;

They wound my thoughts, worse than thy fword my flesh:
But thought's the flave of life, and life time's fool;
And time, that takes furvey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophefie,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death,
Lyes on my tongué: no, Percy, thou art duft,
And food for

[Dies.

P. Henry. Worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well!
Ill-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 vileft earth

Is room enough! this earth, that bears thee dead,
Bears not alive fo ftout a gentleman.

If thou wert fenfible of courtefie,

I should not make fo great a fhow of zeal.
But let my favours hide thy mangled face,
And, ev'n in thy behalf, I'll thank my felf
For doing these fair Rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heav'n;
Thy ignominy fleep with thee in the Grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph.

[He fees Falstaff 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.
Oh, I fhould have a heavy mifs of thee,
If I were much in love with Vanity.
Death hath not ftruck fo fat a Deer to day,
Though many a dearer in this bloody fray:

H 5

Imbowell'd

Imbowell'd will I fee thee by and by,
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lye.

Falstaff rifes.

Fal: Imbowell'd!. if thou imbowel me to day, I'll give you leave to powder me, and eat me to morrow! 'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me fcot and lot too. Counterfeit ?* I lie, 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 difcretion; in the which better part, I have faved my life. I am afraid of this gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if he fhould counterfeit too, and rife? I am afraid, he would prove the better counterfeit; therefore I'll make him fure; yea, and I'll fwear, I kill'd him. Why may not he rife as well as I-?nothing confutes me but eyes, and no body fees me.. Therefore, firrah, with a new wound in your thigh come you along with me. [Takes Hot-fpur on his back.

Enter Prince Henry, and John of Lancafter.

P. Henry. Come, brother John, full bravely haft thou flefht

Thy maiden fword.

Lan. But foft! whom have we here?

Did not you tell me, this fat man was dead?`` P. Henry. I did, I faw him dead, And breathlefs on the ground: art thou alive, Or is it fancy plays upon our eye-fight?" I pr'ythee, fpeak, we will not truft our eyes Without our ears: thou art not what thou feem'ft. 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, fo; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look either to be Earl or Duke, I can affure you.

dead.

Henry Why, Perty kill'd my felf, and faw thee

Fat.

Fal. Did'ft thou? lord, lord, how the world is giv'n to lying! I grant you, I was down, and out of breath, and fo was he; but we rofe both at an inftant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock: if I may be believed, fo; if not, let them, that should reward valour, bear the fin 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 fword.

Lan. This is the strangeft Tale that e'er I heard.

P. Henry. This is the ftrangest fellow, brother John Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back: For my part, if a Lie máy do thee grace, I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.

[A retreat is founded. The trumpets found retreat, the day is ours: Come, brother, let's to th' highest of the field, To fee what friends are living, who are dead. [Exeunt; Fal. I'll follow, as they fay, for reward. He that rewards me, heav'n reward him! If I do grow great, I'll grow lefs; for I'll purge, and leave fack, and live cleanly, as a noble man should do.

[Exit. The Trumpets found: Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancafter, Earl of Weftmorland, with Worcester and Vernon Prisoners.

K. Henry. Thus ever did Rebellion find rebuke..
I'll-fpirited Wor'fter, did we not fend grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you?
And would't thou turn our offers contrary
Misuse the tenor of thy kinfman's truft?
Three Knights upon our party flain to day,
A noble Earl, and many a creature else,
Had been alive this hour,

If like a chriftian thou had'ft truly borne
Betwixt our armies true intelligence,

Wor. What I have done, my faftey urg'd me to;:
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be avoided it falls on me.

K. Henry, Rear Worceßer to death, and Vernon too.

Other

Other Offenders we will paufe upon.

[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guarded

How goes the field?

P. Henry. The gallant Scot, lord Dowglas, when he faw
The fortune of the day quite turned from him,
The noble Percy flain and all his men

Upon the foot of fear, filed with the reft;
And, falling from a hill, he was fo bruis'd,
That the purfuers took him. At my Tent
The Douglas is, and, I befeech your Grace,.
I may difpofe of him.

K. Henry. With all my heart.

P Henry. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you
This honourable bounty fhall belong :

Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free:
His valour fhewn upon our crefts to day,

Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds,
Ev'n in the bofom of our adverfaries.

Lan. I thank your Grace for this high courtefie,
Which I shall give away immediately.

K. Henry. Then this remains; that we divide our
Power.

You fon John, and my coufin Weftmorland,

Tow'rds York fhall bend you, with your deareft speed,
To meet Northumberland, and Prelate Scroop,
Who, as we hear, are bufily in arms.

My felf and You, fon Harry, will towards Wales,
To fight with Glendower and the Earl of Marche.
Rebellion in this Land fhall lofe his fway,
Meeting the check of fuch another day;
And fince this bufinefs fo far fair is done,
Let us not leave, till all our own be won.

[Exeunt

The