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I prithee, Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed’st too much. Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
Please, Harry, step back; you’re bleeding too much. Lord John of Lancaster, go with him.
Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
Not me, my lord, unless I’m bleeding too.
I beseech your majesty, make up, Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.
I beg you, Your Majesty, pull back, Or your retreat might confuse your men.
I will do so. My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent.
I will do so. My Lord of Westmoreland, take him to his tent.
Come, my lord, I’ll lead you to your tent.
Come, my lord, I’ll take you to your tent.
Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help: And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, Where stain’d nobility lies trodden on, and rebels’ arms triumph in massacres!
Lead me, my lord? I don’t need your help: And God forbid a small scratch should make The Prince of Wales leave a battlefield like this, Where dishonored nobility is trampled on, and rebels’ weapons win in massacres!
We breathe too long: come, cousin Westmoreland, Our duty this way lies; for God’s sake come.
We’ve been here too long: come, cousin Westmoreland, Our duty lies this way; for God’s sake, come.
By God, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster; I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: Before, I loved thee as a brother, John; But now, I do respect thee as my soul.
By God, you’ve fooled me, Lancaster; I didn’t think you had such a spirit: Before, I loved you like a brother, John; But now, I respect you as much as my own soul.
I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point With lustier maintenance than I did look for Of such an ungrown warrior.
I saw him hold Lord Percy at bay With more strength than I expected From such an unseasoned warrior.
O, this boy Lends mettle to us all!
Oh, this boy Gives courage to all of us!
Another king! they grow like Hydra’s heads: I am the Douglas, fatal to all those That wear those colours on them: what art thou, That counterfeit’st the person of a king?
Another king! They grow like Hydra’s heads: I am the Douglas, deadly to all those Who wear those colors: what are you, Who pretends to be a 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 Seek Percy and thyself about the field: But, seeing thou fall’st on me so luckily, I will assay thee: so, defend thyself.
The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart So many of his shadows you’ve met And not the real king. I have two sons Searching for Percy and you across the field: But since you’ve come upon me so conveniently, I’ll fight you: so, defend yourself.
I fear thou art another counterfeit; And yet, in faith, thou bear’st thee like a king: But mine I am sure thou art, whoe’er thou be, And thus I win thee.
I fear you’re just another imposter; And yet, honestly, you carry yourself like a king: But I’m sure of who I am, whoever you are, And now I’ll win you.
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: It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee; Who never promiseth but he means to pay.
Lift your head, you vile Scot, or you’ll never Be able to lift it again! The spirits Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, and Blunt are with me: It’s the Prince of Wales who threatens you; And when he promises something, he means it.
Cheerly, my lord how fares your grace? Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succor sent, And so hath Clifton: I’ll to Clifton straight.
Cheer up, my lord, how are you, your grace? Sir Nicholas Gawsey has sent help, And so has Clifton: I’ll go straight to Clifton.
Stay, and breathe awhile: Thou hast redeem’d thy lost opinion, And show’d thou makest some tender of my life, In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
Stay, and rest a moment: You’ve redeemed your lost reputation, And shown you care for my life, With this brave rescue you’ve brought me.
O God! they did me too much injury 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 And saved the treacherous labour of your son.
Oh God! they hurt me so much Who ever said I hoped for your death. If that were true, I might have just let go Of Douglas’s insulting attack on you, Which would have ended you as quickly As all the poison in the world And spared your son’s treacherous effort.
Make up to Clifton: I’ll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.
Head to Clifton: I’ll go to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
If I’m not mistaken, you’re Harry Monmouth.
Thou speak’st as if I would deny my name.
You speak as though I’d deny my name.
My name is Harry Percy.
My name is Harry Percy.
Why, then I see 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, Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.
Well, then I see A very brave rebel by that name. I am the Prince of Wales; and don’t think, Percy, That you’ll share in my glory any longer: Two stars don’t move in the same orbit; And one England can’t tolerate a double rule, Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.
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!
Nor will it, Harry; for the time has come To end one of us; and I wish to God Your name in battle was as big as mine!
I’ll make it greater ere I part from thee; And all the budding honours on thy crest I’ll crop, to make a garland for my head.
I’ll make it bigger before I leave you; And all the rising honours on your head I’ll cut off, to make a crown for mine.
I can no longer brook thy vanities.
I can’t stand your bragging any longer.
Well said, Hal! to it Hal! Nay, you shall find no boy’s play here, I can tell you.
Well said, Hal! Go for it, Hal! No, you’ll find no kid’s play here, I’ll tell you.
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 sword my flesh: But thought’s the slave of life, and life time’s fool; 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--
Oh, Harry, you’ve stolen my youth! I can handle the loss of my fragile life Better than the proud titles you’ve taken from me; They hurt my mind worse than swords hurt my body: But the mind is a slave to life, and life is a fool of time; And time, which sees everything in the world, Must come to an end. Oh, I could prophesy, But the cold, earthly hand of death Is already on my tongue: no, Percy, you are dust And food for--
For worms, brave Percy: fare thee well, great heart! Ill-weaved 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 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; 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!
For worms, brave Percy: fare thee well, great heart! You were a great man, Percy, but now only worms will eat you. Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk! Ambition, poorly done, has shrunk so much! When that this body did contain a spirit, When this body used to have a soul inside, A kingdom for it was too small a bound; A whole kingdom wasn’t big enough for it; But now two paces of the vilest earth But now two steps on the worst of earth Is room enough: this earth that bears thee dead Is enough space: this earth that now holds you dead Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. Cannot hold such a strong man alive. If thou wert sensible of courtesy, If you understood courtesy, I should not make so dear a show of zeal: I wouldn’t need to act so dramatically in my sorrow, But let my favours hide thy mangled face; But let my kindness cover your ruined face; And, even in thy behalf, I’ll thank myself And, for your sake, I’ll thank myself For doing these fair rites of tenderness. For doing these kind acts of compassion. Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! Goodbye, and take your praise to heaven with you! Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, Let your shame rest with you in the grave, But not remember’d in thy epitaph! But don’t be remembered in your epitaph!
What, old acquaintance! could not all this flesh Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell! I could have better spared a better man: O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, If I were much in love with vanity! Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. Embowell’d will I see thee by and by: Till then in blood by noble Percy lie.
What, old acquaintance! could not all this flesh What, an old friend! couldn’t all this flesh Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell! Stay alive a little longer? Poor Jack, goodbye! I could have better spared a better man: I could have lost a better man with less regret: O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, Oh, I’d miss you terribly, If I were much in love with vanity! If I cared too much about appearances! Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, Death hasn’t taken such an easy target today, Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. Though many more valuable, in this bloody battle. Embowell’d will I see thee by and by: I’ll soon see you disemboweled, Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. But for now, lie in blood next to noble Percy.
[Rising up] Embowelled! if thou embowel me to-day, I’ll give you leave to powder me and eat me too to-morrow. ’Sblood,’twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot 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 discretion; in the which better part I have saved my life.’Zounds, I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead: how, if he should counterfeit too and rise? by my faith, I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore I’ll make him sure; yea, and I’ll swear I killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah,
[Rising up] Embowelled! if thou embowel me to-day, Disemboweled! If you disembowel me today, I’ll give you leave to powder me and eat me too I’ll let you season me and eat me tomorrow to-morrow. ’Sblood,’twas time to counterfeit, or tomorrow. Damn it, it was time to fake it, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. That fiery Scot would have gotten everything from me. Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: to die, Fake it? I’m lying, I’m no fake: to die, is to be a counterfeit; for he is but the is to be a fake; because he’s just the counterfeit of a man who hath not the life of a man: fake version of a man who’s not truly alive: but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby But to fake death, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and lives, is not faking it, but the real and perfect image of life indeed. The better part of perfect image of life itself. The best part of valour is discretion; in the which better part I courage is knowing when to be cautious; in which part I have saved my life.’Zounds, I am afraid of this have saved my life. Damn, I’m afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead: how, if he gunpowder Percy, even though he’s dead: what if he should counterfeit too and rise? by my faith, I am fakes it too and rises? By my faith, I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. afraid he’d be a better faker. Therefore I’ll make him sure; yea, and I’ll swear I So I’ll make sure he’s dead; yes, and I’ll swear I killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I? killed him. Why can’t he rise as well as I? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Nothing disproves me but eyes, and no one is watching me. Therefore, sirrah,
with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me.
with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me. With a fresh wound in your thigh, come along with me.
Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh’d Thy maiden sword.
Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh’d Come, brother John; you’ve truly earned your first victory Thy maiden sword. with your maiden sword.
But, soft! whom have we here? Did you not tell me this fat man was dead?
But, soft! whom have we here? Wait, who do we have here? Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? Didn’t you say this fat man was dead?
I did; I saw him dead, Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Art thou alive? Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? I prithee, speak; we will not trust our eyes Without our ears: thou art not what thou seem’st.
I did; I saw him dead, I did; I saw him dead, Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Art Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Are thou alive? you alive? Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? Or is it just our imagination playing tricks on us? I prithee, speak; we will not trust our eyes Please speak; we won’t trust our eyes Without our ears: thou art not what thou seem’st. Without hearing you speak: you’re not what you appear to be.
No, that’s certain; I am not a double man: but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There is Percy:
No, that’s certain; I am not a double man: but if I No, that’s for sure; I’m not a double man: but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There is Percy: am not Jack Falstaff, then I’m just a Jack. There’s Percy:
if your father will do me any honour, so; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you.
if your father will do me any honour, so; if not, let if your father will honor me, fine; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either him kill the next Percy himself. I hope to be either earl or duke, I can assure you. an earl or duke, I assure you.
Why, Percy I killed myself and saw thee dead.
Why, Percy, I killed myself and saw you dead.
Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I grant you I was down and out of breath; and so was he: but we rose both at an instant and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed, so; if not, let them that should reward valour bear the sin upon their own heads. I’ll take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh: if the man were alive and would deny it, ’zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my sword.
Did you? Good Lord, how this world is full of lies! I admit I was down and out of breath; and so was he: but we both got up at the same time and fought for a full hour by Shrewsbury clock. If you’ll believe me, that’s how it happened; if not, let those who should reward bravery bear the guilt themselves. I’ll take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh: if the man were alive and denied it, by God, I’d make him eat a piece of my sword.
This is the strangest tale that ever I heard.
This is the weirdest story I’ve ever heard.
This is the strangest fellow, brother John. Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back: For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, I’ll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
This is the strangest guy, brother John. Come, carry your stuff properly on your back: As for me, if a lie will do you honor, I’ll decorate it with the best words I have.
The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours. Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field, To see what friends are living, who are dead.
The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours. Come, brother, let’s go to the top of the field, To see who’s still alive, who’s dead.
I’ll follow, as they say, for reward. He that rewards me, God reward him! If I do grow great, I’ll grow less; for I’ll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly as a nobleman should do.
I’ll follow, as they say, for a reward. Whoever rewards me, may God reward him! If I get rich, I’ll get smaller; because I’ll stop drinking, and live properly like a nobleman should.