The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 166
Arm, arm with speed! And fellows, soldiers, friends,
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Better consider what you have to do
Than I that have not well the gift of tongue
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.
Enter a Messenger.
MESSENGER My lord, here are letters for you.
HOTSPUR I cannot read them now.
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O gentlemen, the time of life is short!
To spend that shortness basely were too long
If life did ride upon a dial’s point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
And if we live, we live to tread on kings,
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If die, brave death when princes die with us!
Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair
When the intent of bearing them is just.
Enter another Messenger.
MESSENGER
My lord, prepare, the King comes on apace.
HOTSPUR I thank him that he cuts me from my tale,
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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
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
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Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on,
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace,
For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.
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Here they embrace, the trumpets sound, exeunt.
5.3 The KING enters with his power. Alarum to the battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and SIR WALTER BLUNT, disguised as the King.
BLUNT What is thy name that in the battle thus
Thou crossest me? What honour dost thou seek
Upon my head?
DOUGLAS Know then my name is Douglas,
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus
Because some tell me that thou art a king.
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BLUNT They tell thee true.
DOUGLAS
The Lord of Stafford dear today hath bought
Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry,
This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.
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BLUNT I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot,
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge
Lord Stafford’s death.
[They fight. Douglas kills Blunt.]
Then enter HOTSPUR.
HOTSPUR
O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus
I never had triumph’d upon a Scot.
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DOUGLAS
All’s done, all’s won: here breathless lies the King.
HOTSPUR Where?
DOUGLAS Here.
HOTSPUR
This, Douglas? No, I know this face full well,
A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt,
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Semblably furnish’d like the King himself.
DOUGLAS A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes!
A borrow’d title hast thou bought too dear.
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?
HOTSPUR The King hath many marching in his coats.
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DOUGLAS Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats;
I’ll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,
Until I meet the King.
HOTSPUR Up and away!
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. Exeunt.
Alarum. Enter FALSTAFF alone.
FALSTAFF Though I could scape shot-free at London, I
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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
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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?
Enter the PRINCE.
PRINCE
What, stands thou idle here? Lend me thy sword:
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Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
whose deaths are yet unrevenged. I prithee lend me
thy sword.
FALSTAFF O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe
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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.
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FALSTAFF Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive thou
gets not my sword, but take my pistol if thou wilt.
PRINCE Give it me: what, is it in the case?
FALSTAFF Ay, Hal, ’tis hot, ’tis hot; there’s that will sack
a city. [The Prince draws it out, and finds it to be a bottle
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of sack.]
PRINCE What, is it a time to jest and dally now? [He
throws the bottle at him.] Exit.
FALSTAFF Well, if Percy be alive, I’ll 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. Give me life,
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which if I can save, so: if not, honour comes unlooked
for, and there’s an end. Exit.
5.4 Alarum. Excursions. Enter the KING, the PRINCE, LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, EARL OF WESTMORELAND.
KING
I prithee, Harry, withdraw thyself, thou bleed’st too much.
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
LANCASTER Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
PRINCE I beseech your Majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.
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KING I will do so. My Lord of Westmoreland,
Lead him to his tent.
WESTMORELAND
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
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The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
Where stain’d nobility lies trodden on,
And rebels’ arms triumph in massacres!
LANCASTER
We breathe too long: come, cousin Westmoreland,
Our duty this way lies: for God’s sake, come.
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Exeunt Lancaster and Westmoreland.
PRINCE By God, thou hast deceiv’d me, Lancaster,
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit:
Before, I lov’d thee as a brother, John,
But now I do respect thee as my soul.
KING I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point
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With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.
PRINCE O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all! Exit.
Enter DOUGLAS.
DOUGLAS
Another king! They grow like Hydra’s heads:
I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
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That wear those colours on them. What art thou
That counterfeit’st the person of a king?
KING
The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart
So many of his shadows thou hast met,
And not the very King. I have two boys
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Seek Percy and thyself about the field,
But seeing thou fall’st on me so luckily
I will assay thee, and defend thyself.
DOUGLAS I fear thou art another counterfeit,
And yet, in faith, thou bearest thee like a king;
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But mine I am sure thou art, whoe’er thou be,
And thus I win thee.
[They fight, the King being in danger.]
Re-enter PRINCE.
PRINCE Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up again! The spirits
Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt are in my arms.
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It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
Who never promiseth but he means to pay.
[They fight.] Douglas flieth.
Cheerly, my lord, how fares your grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton – I’ll to Clifton straight.
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KING Stay and breathe a while:
Thou hast redeem’d thy lost opinion,
And show’d thou mak’st some tender of my life,
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
PRINCE O God, they did me too much injury
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That ever said I hearken’d for your death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting hand of Douglas over you,
Which would have been as speedy in your end
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
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And sav’d the treacherous labour of your son.
KING
Make up to Clifton, I’ll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.
Exit.
Enter HOTSPUR.
HOTSPUR If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
PRINCE Thou speak’st as if I would deny my name.
HOTSPUR My name is Harry Percy.
PRINCE Why then I see
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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
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Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.
HOTSPUR 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!
PRINCE I’ll make it greater ere I part from thee,
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And all the budding honours on thy crest
I’ll crop to make a garland for my head.
HOTSPUR I can no longer brook thy vanities.
[They fight.]
Enter FALSTAFF.
FALSTAFF Well said, Hal! To it, Hal! Nay, you shall find
no boy’s play here, I can tell you.
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Re-enter DOUGLAS; he fighteth with Falstaff,
who falls down as if he were dead. Exit Douglas. The Prince mortally wounds Hotspur.
HOTSPUR 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 thoughts, the slaves of life, and life, time’s fool,
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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.]
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PRINCE
For worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well, great heart!
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 vilest earth
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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 favours hide thy mangled face,
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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 ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember’d in thy epitaph!
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[He spieth Falstaff on the ground.]
What, old acquaintance, could not all this flesh