Henry IV, Part I

Please, Harry, get out of here: you’re bleeding too heavily. John of Lancaster, go with him.

I won’t leave, my lord, unless I am bleeding too.

I beg your highness, advance. Your army will lose heart if it sees you falling back.

I will. My Lord of Westmoreland, take him to his tent.

(to PRINCE HENRY) Come, my lord. I’ll lead you to your tent.

Lead me, my lord? I don’t need your help. God forbid that a shallow scratch could make the Prince of Wales retreat from a battlefield like this one, where great men are falling and being trampled upon, and rebels are triumphing in their massacres!

We’ve stopped for too long. Come, Westmoreland. We have work to do. For God’s sake, come on!

By God, you have deceived me, Lancaster. I didn’t think you were that brave. Before, I loved you as a brother; now, I respect you as my soulmate.

He had Percy cornered, and he carried himself more bravely than I would have expected of such a young warrior.

Oh, this boy lends us all courage!

Another king! The more of them we kill, the more of them spring up. I am Douglas, and I bring death to everyone wearing that uniform. Who are you, disguised as a king?

The King himself. And it pains me, Douglas, that you ran into so many of my shadows, and not me. I have two sons on the field, looking for Percy and for you. But, since you were lucky enough to come upon me, I’ll fight you myself. Defend yourself.

I fear that you’re another fake; and yet, you bear yourself like a king. Whoever you are, you’re mine, and I’ll defeat you.

Look at me, you nasty Scotsman, or you’ll never look at anything again. I have the spirits of brave Shirley, Stafford, and Blunt in me. It is the Prince of Wales who threatens you, and I never make promises I cannot keep.

Cheer up, father. How are you? Sir Nicholas Gawsey called for reinforcements, and so has Clifton. I’m going to Clifton right now.

Wait, and breathe for a moment. You have redeemed your bad reputation, and show that you care something for me, by rescuing me like this.

Oh God! Anyone who ever said I wished for you to die did me a terrible wrong. If I wanted that, I would have let Douglas continue his attack. That would have killed you faster than any dose of poison, and it would have saved me the trouble of treachery.

Go to Clifton; I’ll go to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.

If I’m not mistaken, you’re Harry Monmouth.

You make it sound as if I’d deny it.

My name is Harry Percy.

Why then, I’m looking at a very brave rebel by that name. I am the Prince of Wales, and don’t think, Percy, that you can share in my glory any longer. There isn’t enough room for two stars in the same orbit; England cannot handle a double reign, Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales ruling at once.

It won’t have to, Harry, for the time has come for one of us to die. I only wish that you had as great a reputation in warfare as I do.

My reputation will be greater by the time we part. I’ll take all the flowers of honor from your helmet, and turn them into a garland for myself.

I can’t stand your arrogance any longer.

Well said, Hal! Go for it, Hal! This isn’t child’s play, I’ll tell you that much!

Oh, Harry, you’ve taken away my youth. I can handle the loss of my fragile life, but not the loss of all the honors you have won from me: that loss wounds my thoughts more than your sword wounds my flesh. But thought depends on life, and life depends on time, and time, which watches over the whole world, must stop eventually. Oh, I could make prophecies, but the cold hand of death is stopping my tongue. No, Percy. You are dust, and food for—(he dies)

For worms, brave Percy. Farewell, brave soul. Your ambition, aimed at evil, ends—look at how withered it has become. When this body contained a soul, an entire kingdom was too small to hold it. But now, two paces of wretched earth is plenty of room. The ground that you lie dead upon doesn’t have a single living man upon it as brave as you. If you could hear me, I wouldn’t praise you so lavishly. But let me cover your battered face with part of my uniform. I’ll thank myself on your behalf for doing these rites of respect. Adieu, and take my praise of you to heaven. Let your disgraces sleep with you in the grave, and let them be kept off your tombstone!

What? My old friend? Couldn’t all this flesh hold onto a little life? Poor Jack, farewell. I would rather have lost a more valuable soldier. If I were in love with vanity, I’d really miss you. Death hasn’t taken anyone as fat today, though it has taken many better men in this vicious battle. I’ll have you embowelled soon; till then, lie here in blood, by the great Percy.

Embowelled? If you cut me open today, I’ll let you pickle me and eat me tomorrow. Damn! I had to fake being dead, or that raging rebel of a Scotsman would have ended me. Fake? No, I tell a lie: I’m not a faker. To die is to be a faker, because a dead body is an imitation of a living one. But to fake being dead, in order to stay alive, that’s no kind of faking. That’s the truest kind of living there is. Bravery is mostly about precaution; I’m careful, and it saved my life. Damn, I’m scared of this bombshell Percy, even though he’s dead. What if he’s faking, too, and he gets up? I swear, he’d be the better faker. Therefore, I’ll make sure he’s dead; in fact, I’ll swear that I killed him. Why couldn’t he just get up, like I did? Only a witness could stop me, and there are no witnesses here. Therefore, sirrah, (stabs the body) you’re coming with me—complete with a new wound in your thigh. (he throws HOTSPUR’s body over his shoulder)

John, my brother, you’ve bravely proven yourself in this, your first battle.

Wait! Who do we have here? Didn’t you say this fat man was dead?

I did. I saw him dead on the ground, bleeding and not breathing. Are you alive? Or is this some kind of dream, playing with our sight? Talk to us. We won’t trust our eyes without our ears. You aren’t what you seem to be.

That’s for sure. I’m not a double man. But if I’m not Jack Falstaff, then I’m a crook. Here’s Percy. If the king will honor me for this, fine. If not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I expect to me made an earl or a Duke for this, I’ll tell you that much.

Why, I killed Percy myself and I saw you dead.

You did? Lord, Lord, how people love to lie! I admit I had fallen and was out of breath, and so was he. But we both stood up at the same time and fought for a long hour. If I am to be believed, fine. If I’m not believed, then the guilt will lie with the people who are supposed to reward bravery. I swear on my life, I gave him this gash in the leg. Damn, if he were alive and said I didn’t, I’d shove my sword down his throat.

This is the strangest story I’ve ever heard.

This is the strangest man, John. All right then, display your prize on your back. As far as I’m concerned, if lying will help you out, I’ll decorate your lie as prettily as I can.

A trumpet is blowing retreat: we’ve won. Come on, brother. Let’s get to high ground and see which of our friends are alive, and which are dead.

I’ll follow them and claim my reward. May God reward whoever rewards me. If I grow into a great man, I’ll grow thinner: I’ll go on a diet, quit drinking, and live properly, like a great man should.