So much misconstrued in his wantonness. Of any prince so wild a libertine. But be he as he will, yet once ere night Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, here are letters for you. O gentlemen, the time of life is short! To spend that shortness basely were too long, Still ending at the arrival of an hour. An if we live, we live to tread on kings; If die, brave death, when princes die with us! Enter another Messenger. Mess. My lord, prepare; the king comes on apace. Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, For I profess not talking; only this Let each man do his best: and here draw I A sword, whose temper I intend to stain 72. libertine, Capell's emendation; Qq1-4 'libertie.' 70 80 90 Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on. [The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt. SCENE III. Plain between the camps. The KING enters with his power. Alarum to the battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and SIR WALTER BLUNT. Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek Doug. Know then, my name is Douglas ; And I do haunt thee in the battle thus Because some tell me that thou art a king. Blunt. They tell thee true. Doug. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry, Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; Enter HOTSPUR. Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, 97. Esperance (four syllables). I never had triúmph'd upon a Scot. Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless Doug. Here. Hot. This, Douglas? no: I know this face A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes! A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear: I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, Hot. Alarum. Enter FALSTAFF, solus. 20 Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, 30 I fear the shot here; here's no scoring but upon 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 heavy too: God keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered: there's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive; and they are for the town's end, to beg during life. But who comes here? 21. Semblably, similarly. 30. shot-free, scot-free, without paying the score. 40 39. the town's end, at the gates, a common station for beggars. Enter the PRINCE. Prince. What, stand'st thou idle here? lend me thy sword: Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are yet unrevenged: I prithee, lend me thy sword. Fal. O Hal, I prithee, give me leave to breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure. Prince. He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. I prithee, 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. Prince. 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 it out, and now? 50 finds it to be a bottle of sack. Prince. What, is it a time to jest and dally [He throws the bottle at him. 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 60 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 unlooked for, and there's an end. 46. Turk Gregory; Falstaff jocosely combines two characters associated in popular fame with military exploits, the Sultan, [Exit. SCENE IV. Another part of the field. Alarum. Excursions. Enter the KING, the PRINCE, LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, and EARL OF WESTMORELAND. King. I prithee, Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much. Lan. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. West. Come, my lord, I'll lead you to your tent. Prince. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help: And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive And rebels' arms triumph in massacres ! Lan. We breathe too long: come, cousin Westmoreland, Our duty this way lies; for God's sake, come. [Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland. Prince. By God, thou hast deceived me, Lan caster ; I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point 5. make up, advance to the front. 6. amaze, bewilder, confuse. ΤΟ 20 21. hold . . . at the point, i.e. parry his attacks. |