King. You haue not sought it: how comes it then?Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it
Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace
Wor. It pleas'd your Maiesty, to turne your lookesOf Fauour, from my Selfe, and all our House;And yet I must remember you my Lord,We were the first, and dearest of your Friends:For you, my staffe of Office did I breakeIn Richards time, and poasted day and nightTo meete you on the way, and kisse your hand,When yet you were in place, and in accountNothing so strong and fortunate, as I;It was my Selfe, my Brother, and his Sonne,That brought you home, and boldly did out-dareThe danger of the time. You swore to vs,And you did sweare that Oath at Doncaster,That you did nothing of purpose 'gainst the State,Nor claime no further, then your new-falne right,The seate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaster,To this, we sware our aide: But in short space,It rain'd downe Fortune showring on your head,And such a floud of Greatnesse fell on you,What with our helpe, what with the absent King.What with the iniuries of wanton time,The seeming sufferances that you had borne,And the contrarious Windes that held the KingSo long in the vnlucky Irish Warres,That all in England did repute him dead:And from this swarme of faire aduantages,You tooke occasion to be quickly woo'd,To gripe the generall sway into your hand,Forgot your Oath to vs at Doncaster,And being fed by vs, you vs'd vs so,As that vngentle gull the Cuckowes Bird,Vseth the Sparrow, did oppresse our NestGrew by our Feeding, to so great a builke,That euen our Loue durst not come neere your sightFor feare of swallowing: But with nimble wingWe were infor'd for safety sake, to flyeOut of your sight, and raise this present Head,Whereby we stand opposed by such meanesAs you your selfe, haue forg'd against your selfe,By vnkinde vsage, dangerous countenance,And violation of all faith and trothSworne to vs in yonger enterprize
Kin. These things indeed you haue articulated,Proclaim'd at Market Crosses, read in Churches,To face the Garment of RebellionWith some fine colour, that may please the eyeOf fickle Changelings, and poore Discontents,Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newesOf hurly burly Innouation:And neuer yet did Insurrection wantSuch water-colours, to impaint his cause:Nor moody Beggars, staruing for a timeOf pell-mell hauocke, and confusion
Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a souleShall pay full dearely for this encounter,If once they ioyne in triall. Tell your Nephew,The Prince of Wales doth ioyne with all the worldIn praise of Henry Percie: By my Hopes,This present enterprize set off his head,I do not thinke a brauer Gentleman,More actiue, valiant, or more valiant yong,More daring, or more bold, is now aliue,To grace this latter Age with Noble deeds.For my part, I may speake it to my shame,I haue a Truant beene to Chiualry,And so I heare, he doth account me too:Yet this before my Fathers Maiesty,I am content that he shall take the oddesOf his great name and estimation,And will, to saue the blood on either side,Try fortune with him, in a Single Fight
King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we venter thee,Albeit, considerations infiniteDo make against it: No good Worster, no,We loue our people well; euen those we loueThat are misled vpon your Cousins part:And will they take the offer of our Grace:Both he, and they, and you; yea euery manShall be my Friend againe, and Ile be his.So tell your Cousin, and bring me word,What he will do. But if he will not yeeld,Rebuke and dread correction waite on vs,And they shall do their Office. So bee gone,We will not now be troubled with reply,We offer faire, take it aduisedly.
Exit Worcester.
Prin. It will not be accepted, on my life,The Dowglas and the Hotspurre both together,Are confident against the world in Armes
King. Hence therefore, euery Leader to his charge,For on their answer will we set on them;And God befriend vs, as our cause is iust.
Exeunt.
Manet Prince and Falstaffe.
Fal. Hal, if thou see me downe in the battell,And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship
Prin. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that frendshipSay thy prayers, and farewell
Fal. I would it were bed time Hal, and all well
Prin. Why, thou ow'st heauen a death
Falst. 'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him, that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Honour A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednesday. Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, therfore Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so ends my Catechisme. Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.
Wor. O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,The liberall kinde offer of the King
Ver. 'Twere best he did
Wor. Then we are all vndone.It is not possible, it cannot be,The King would keepe his word in louing vs,He will suspect vs still, and finde a timeTo punish this offence in others faults:Supposition, all our liues, shall be stucke full of eyes;For Treason is but trusted like the Foxe,Who ne're so tame, so cherisht, and lock'd vp,Will haue a wilde tricke of his Ancestors:Looke how he can, or sad or merrily,Interpretation will misquote our lookes,And we shall feede like Oxen at a stall,The better cherisht, still the nearer death.My Nephewes Trespasse may be well forgot,It hath the excuse of youth, and heate of blood,And an adopted name of Priuiledge,A haire-brain'd Hotspurre, gouern'd by a Spleene:All his offences liue vpon my head,And on his Fathers. We did traine him on,And his corruption being tane from vs,We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all:Therefore good Cousin, let not Harry knowIn any case, the offer of the King
Ver. Deliuer what you will, Ile say 'tis so.Heere comes your Cosin.Enter Hotspurre.
Hot. My Vnkle is return'd,Deliuer vp my Lord of Westmerland.Vnkle, what newes?Wor. The King will bid you battell presently
Dow. Defie him by the Lord of WestmerlandHot. Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so
Dow. Marry and shall, and verie willingly.
Exit Dowglas.
Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King
Hot. Did you begge any? God forbid
Wor. I told him gently of our greeuances,Of his Oath-breaking: which he mended thus,By now forswearing that he is forsworne,He cals vs Rebels, Traitors, and will scourgeWith haughty armes, this hatefull name in vs.Enter Dowglas.
Dow. Arme Gentlemen, to Armes, for I haue thrownA braue defiance in King Henries teeth:And Westmerland that was ingag'd did beare it,Which cannot choose 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 quarrell lay vpon our heads,And that no man might draw short breath to day,But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell mee,How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in contempt?Ver. No, by my Soule: I neuer in my lifeDid heare a Challenge vrg'd more modestly,Vnlesse a Brother should a Brother dareTo gentle exercise, and proofe of Armes.He gaue you all the Duties of a Man,Trimm'd vp your praises with a Princely tongue,Spoke your deseruings like a Chronicle,Making you euer better then his praise,By still dispraising praise, valew'd with you:And which became him like a Prince indeed,He made a blushing citall of himselfe,And chid his Trewant youth with such a Grace,As if he mastred there a double spiritOf teaching, and of learning instantly:There did he pause. But let me tell the World,If he out-liue the enuie of this day,England did neuer owe so sweet a hope,So much misconstrued in his Wantonnesse,Hot. Cousin, I thinke thou art enamoredOn his Follies: neuer did I heareOf any Prince so wilde at Liberty.But be he as he will, yet once ere night,I will imbrace him with a Souldiers arme,That he shall shrinke vnder my curtesie.Arme, arme with speed. And Fellow's, Soldiers, Friends,Better consider what you haue to do,That I that haue not well the gift of Tongue,Can lift your blood vp with perswasion.Enter a Messenger.
Mes. My Lord, heere are Letters for you
Hot. I cannot reade them now.O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;To spend that shortnesse basely, were too long.If life did ride vpon a Dials point,Still ending at the arriuall of an houre,And if we liue, we liue to treade on Kings:If dye; braue death, when Princes dye with vs.Now for our Consciences, the Armes is faire,When the intent for bearing them is iust.Enter another Messenger.
Mes. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace
Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale:For I professe not talking: Onely this,Let each man do his best. And heere I draw a Sword,Whose worthy temper I intend to staineWith the best blood that I can meete withall,In the aduenture of this perillous day.Now Esperance Percy, and set on:Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre,And by that Musicke, let vs all imbrace:For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer shall,A second time do such a curtesie.
They embrace, the trumpets sound, the King entereth with his power, alarum vnto the battell. Then enter Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.
Blu. What is thy name, that in battel thus y crossest me?What honor dost thou seeke vpon my head?Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,And I do haunt thee in the Battell thus,Because some tell me, that thou art a King
Blunt. They tell thee true
Dow. The Lord of Stafford deere to day hath boughtThy likenesse: for insted of thee King Harry,This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a Prisoner
Blu. I was not borne to yeeld, thou haughty Scot,And thou shalt finde a King that will reuengeLords Staffords death.
Fight, Blunt is slaine, then enters Hotspur.
Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thusI neuer had triumphed o're a Scot
Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the kingHot. Where?Dow. Heere
Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well:A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe
Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes,A borrowed Title hast thou bought too deere.Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a King?Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats
Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates,Ile murder all his Wardrobe peece by peece,Vntill I meet the King
Hot. Vp, and away,Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.
Exeunt.
Alarum, and enter Falstaffe solus.
Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft who are you? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you: here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as heauy too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my 150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg during life. But who comes heere? Enter the Prince
Pri. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword,Many a Nobleman lies starke and stiffeVnder the hooues of vaunting enemies,Whose deaths are vnreueng'd. Prethy lend me thy swordFal. O Hal, I prethee giue me leaue to breath awhile:Turke Gregory neuer did such deeds in Armes, as I hauedone this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made him sure
Prin. He is indeed, and liuing to kill thee:I prethee lend me thy sword
Falst. Nay Hal, is Percy bee aliue, thou getst not mySword; but take my Pistoll if thou wilt
Prin. Giue it me: What, is it in the case?Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sacke a City.
The Prince drawes out a Bottle of Sacke.
Prin. What, is it a time to iest and dally now.
Enter.
Throwes it at him.
Fal. If Percy be aliue, Ile 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: Giue mee life, which if I can saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's an end.
Exit
Scena Tertia.
Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, and Earle of Westmerland.
King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou bleedest too much: Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him
P.Ioh. Not I, My Lord, vnlesse I did bleed too
Prin. I beseech your Maiesty make vp,Least your retirement do amaze your friends
King. I will do so:My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent
West. Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent
Prin. Lead me my Lord? I do not need your helpe;And heauen forbid a shallow scratch should driueThe Prince of Wales from such a field as this,Where stain'd Nobility lyes troden on,And Rebels Armes triumph in massacres
Ioh. We breath too long: Come cosin Westmerland,Our duty this way lies, for heauens sake come
Prin. By heauen thou hast deceiu'd me Lancaster,I did not thinke thee Lord of such a spirit:Before, I lou'd thee as a Brother, Iohn;But now, I do respect thee as my Soule
King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,With lustier maintenance then I did looke forOf such an vngrowne Warriour
Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to vs all.Enter.
Enter Dowglas.
Dow. Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads:I am the Dowglas, fatall to all thoseThat weare those colours on them. What art thouThat counterfeit'st the person of a King?King. The King himselfe: who Dowglas grieues at hartSo many of his shadowes thou hast met,And not the very King. I haue two BoyesSeeke Percy and thy selfe about the Field:But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,I will assay thee: so defend thy selfe
Dow. I feare thou art another counterfeit:And yet infaith thou bear'st thee like a King:But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be,And thus I win thee.
They fight, the K[ing]. being in danger, Enter Prince.
Prin. Hold vp thy head vile Scot, or thou art likeNeuer to hold it vp againe: the SpiritsOf valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my Armes;it is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to pay.
They Fight, Dowglas flyeth.
Cheerely My Lord: how fare's your Grace?Sir Nicolas Gawsey hath for succour sent,And so hath Clifton: Ile to Clifton straight
King. Stay, and breath awhile.Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion,And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my lifeIn this faire rescue thou hast brought to mee
Prin. O heauen, they did me too much iniury,That euer said I hearkned to your death.If it were so, I might haue let aloneThe insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you,Which would haue bene as speedy in your end,As all the poysonous Potions in the world,And sau'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne
K. Make vp to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gausey.
Exit
Enter Hotspur.
Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth
Prin. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name
Hot. My name is Harrie Percie
Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name.I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy,To share with me in glory any more:Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere,Nor can one England brooke a double reigne,Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales
Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is comeTo end the one of vs; and would to heauen,Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine
Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee,And all the budding Honors on thy Crest,Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head
Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.
Fight.
Enter Falstaffe.
Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde noBoyes play heere, I can tell you.Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down as if hewere dead.The Prince killeth Percie.
Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth:I better brooke the losse of brittle life,Then those proud Titles thou hast wonne of me,They wound my thoghts worse, then the sword my flesh:But thought's the slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole;And Time, that takes suruey of all the world,Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie,But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death,Lyes on my Tongue: No Percy, thou art dustAnd food for-Prin. For Wormes, braue Percy. Farewell great heart:Ill-weau'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunke?When that this bodie did containe a spirit,A Kingdome for it was too small a bound:But now two paces of the vilest EarthIs roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead,Beares not aliue so stout a Gentleman.If thou wer't sensible of curtesie,I should not make so great a shew of Zeale.But let my fauours hide thy mangled face,And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfeFor doing these fayre Rites of Tendernesse.Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heauen,Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the graue,But not remembred in thy Epitaph.What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this fleshKeepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell:I could haue better spar'd a better man.O, I should haue a heauy misse of thee,If I were much in loue with Vanity.Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day,Though many dearer in this bloody Fray:Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by,Till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye.Enter.
Falstaffe riseth vp.
Falst. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow. 'Twas time to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot, had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit; to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeede. The better part of Valour, is Discretion; in the which better part, I haue saued my life. I am affraide of this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would proue the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure: yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh come you along me.
Takes Hotspurre on his backe.
Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster.
Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou fleshtthy Maiden sword
Iohn. But soft, who haue we heere?Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead?Prin. I did, I saw him dead,Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou aliue?Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight?I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyesWithout our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st
Fal. No, that's certaine: I am not a double man: but if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Percy, if your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or Duke, I can assure you
Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead
Fal. Did'st 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 Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee beleeued, so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death I gaue him this wound in the Thigh: if the man were aliue, and would deny it, I would make him eate a peece of my sword
Iohn. This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard
Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn.Come bring your luggage Nobly on your backe:For my part, if a lye may do thee grace,Ile gil'd it with the happiest tearmes I haue.
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 liuing, who are dead.
Exeunt.
Fal. Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that rewards me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again, Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and liue cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.
Exit
Scaena Quarta.
The Trumpets sound.
Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle ofWestmerland, with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners.
King. Thus euer did Rebellion finde Rebuke.Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace,Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you?And would'st thou turne our offers contrary?Misuse the tenor of thy Kinsmans trust?Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day,A Noble Earle, and many a creature else,Had beene aliue this houre,If like a Christian thou had'st truly borneBetwixt our Armies, true Intelligence
Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to,And I embrace this fortune patiently,Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee
King. Beare Worcester to death, and Vernon too:Other offenders we will pause vpon.
Exit Worcester and Vernon.
How goes the Field?Prin. The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee sawThe fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,The Noble Percy slaine, and all his men,Vpon the foot of feare, fled with the rest;And falling from a hill, he was so bruiz'dThat the pursuers tooke him. At my TentThe Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace,I may dispose of him
King. With all my heart
Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster,To you this honourable bounty shall belong:Go to the Dowglas, and deliuer himVp to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free:His Valour shewne vpon our Crests to day,Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds,Euen in the bosome of our Aduersaries
King. Then this remaines: that we diuide our Power.You Sonne Iohn, and my Cousin WestmerlandTowards Yorke shall bend you, with your deerest speedTo meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope,Who (as we heare) are busily in Armes.My Selfe, and you Sonne Harry will towards Wales,To fight with Glendower, and the Earle of March.Rebellion in this Land shall lose his way,Meeting the Checke of such another day:And since this Businesse so faire is done,Let vs not leaue till all our owne be wonne.
Exeunt.