Speeches (Lines) for Henry V
in "Henry IV, Part I"

Total: 170

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# Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context)
Speech text

1

I,2,113

Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack
and unbuttoning thee after supper and sleeping upon
benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to
demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know.
What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the
day? Unless hours were cups of sack and minutes
capons and clocks the tongues of bawds and dials the
signs of leaping-houses and the blessed sun himself
a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no
reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand
the time of the day.

2

I,2,130

What, none?

3

I,2,133

Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly.

4

I,2,141

Thou sayest well, and it holds well too; for the
fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and
flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is,
by the moon. As, for proof, now: a purse of gold
most resolutely snatched on Monday night and most
dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with
swearing 'Lay by' and spent with crying 'Bring in;'
now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder
and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

5

I,2,152

As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And
is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

6

I,2,157

Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

7

I,2,160

Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?

8

I,2,162

Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch;
and where it would not, I have used my credit.

9

I,2,170

No; thou shalt.

10

I,2,172

Thou judgest false already: I mean, thou shalt have
the hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman.

11

I,2,177

For obtaining of suits?

12

I,2,181

Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.

13

I,2,183

What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of
Moor-ditch?

14

I,2,194

Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the
streets, and no man regards it.

15

I,2,205

Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack?

16

I,2,208

I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying
to purse-taking.

17

I,2,218

Good morrow, Ned.

18

I,2,224

Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have
his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of
proverbs: he will give the devil his due.

19

I,2,228

Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.

20

I,2,243

Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith.

21

I,2,247

Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.

22

I,2,249

Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.

23

I,2,251

I care not.

24

I,2,261

Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown summer!

25

I,2,270

How shall we part with them in setting forth?

26

I,2,276

Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our
horses, by our habits and by every other
appointment, to be ourselves.

27

I,2,283

Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.

28

I,2,293

Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things
necessary and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap;
there I'll sup. Farewell.

29

I,2,298

I know you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyoked humour of your idleness:
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behavior I throw off
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;
Redeeming time when men think least I will.

30

II,2,743

Stand close.

31

II,2,746

Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! what a brawling dost
thou keep!

32

II,2,749

He is walked up to the top of the hill: I'll go seek him.

33

II,2,772

Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine ear close
to the ground and list if thou canst hear the tread
of travellers.

34

II,2,779

Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

35

II,2,782

Out, ye rogue! shall I be your ostler?

36

II,2,799

Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane;
Ned Poins and I will walk lower: if they 'scape
from your encounter, then they light on us.

37

II,2,805

What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?

38

II,2,808

Well, we leave that to the proof.

39

II,2,813

Ned, where are our disguises?

40

II,2,833

The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou
and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it
would be argument for a week, laughter for a month
and a good jest for ever.

41

II,2,843

Your money!

42

II,2,848

Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse:
The thieves are all scatter'd and possess'd with fear
So strongly that they dare not meet each other;
Each takes his fellow for an officer.
Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along:
Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him.

43

II,4,985

Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room, and lend me
thy hand to laugh a little.

44

II,4,988

With three or four loggerheads amongst three or four
score hogsheads. I have sounded the very
base-string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother
to a leash of drawers; and can call them all by
their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis.
They take it already upon their salvation, that
though I be but the prince of Wales, yet I am king
of courtesy; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack,
like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a
good boy, by the Lord, so they call me, and when I
am king of England, I shall command all the good
lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dyeing
scarlet; and when you breathe in your watering, they
cry 'hem!' and bid you play it off. To conclude, I
am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour,
that I can drink with any tinker in his own language
during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost
much honour, that thou wert not with me in this sweet
action. But, sweet Ned,—to sweeten which name of
Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped
even now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that
never spake other English in his life than 'Eight
shillings and sixpence' and 'You are welcome,' with
this shrill addition, 'Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint
of bastard in the Half-Moon,' or so. But, Ned, to
drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee,
do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my
puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar; and do
thou never leave calling 'Francis,' that his tale
to me may be nothing but 'Anon.' Step aside, and
I'll show thee a precedent.

45

II,4,1020

Thou art perfect.

46

II,4,1025

Come hither, Francis.

47

II,4,1027

How long hast thou to serve, Francis?

48

II,4,1031

Five year! by'r lady, a long lease for the clinking
of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant
as to play the coward with thy indenture and show it
a fair pair of heels and run from it?

49

II,4,1039

How old art thou, Francis?

50

II,4,1043

Nay, but hark you, Francis: for the sugar thou
gavest me,'twas a pennyworth, wast't not?

51

II,4,1046

I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me
when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.

52

II,4,1050

Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis;
or, Francis, o' Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when
thou wilt. But, Francis!

53

II,4,1054

Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, crystal-button,
not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter,
smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,—

54

II,4,1058

Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink;
for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet
will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.

55

II,4,1063

Away, you rogue! dost thou not hear them call?
[Here they both call him; the drawer stands amazed,
not knowing which way to go]

56

II,4,1072

Let them alone awhile, and then open the door.
[Exit Vintner]
Poins!

57

II,4,1077

Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at
the door: shall we be merry?

58

II,4,1082

I am now of all humours that have showed themselves
humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the
pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight.
[Re-enter FRANCIS]
What's o'clock, Francis?

59

II,4,1089

That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a
parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is
upstairs and downstairs; his eloquence the parcel of
a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the
Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some six or
seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his
hands, and says to his wife 'Fie upon this quiet
life! I want work.' 'O my sweet Harry,' says she,
'how many hast thou killed to-day?' 'Give my roan
horse a drench,' says he; and answers 'Some
fourteen,' an hour after; 'a trifle, a trifle.' I
prithee, call in Falstaff: I'll play Percy, and
that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his
wife. 'Rivo!' says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.

60

II,4,1111

Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter?
pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale
of the sun's! if thou didst, then behold that compound.

61

II,4,1125

How now, wool-sack! what mutter you?

62

II,4,1130

Why, you whoreson round man, what's the matter?

63

II,4,1142

O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou
drunkest last.

64

II,4,1147

What's the matter?

65

II,4,1150

Where is it, Jack? where is it?

66

II,4,1153

What, a hundred, man?

67

II,4,1163

Speak, sirs; how was it?

68

II,4,1172

What, fought you with them all?

69

II,4,1177

Pray God you have not murdered some of them.

70

II,4,1184

What, four? thou saidst but two even now.

71

II,4,1190

Seven? why, there were but four even now.

72

II,4,1194

Prithee, let him alone; we shall have more anon.

73

II,4,1196

Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

74

II,4,1199

So, two more already.

75

II,4,1205

O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

76

II,4,1210

These lies are like their father that begets them;
gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou
clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou
whoreson, obscene, grease tallow-catch,—

77

II,4,1216

Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal
green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy
hand? come, tell us your reason: what sayest thou to this?

78

II,4,1226

I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine
coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker,
this huge hill of flesh,—

79

II,4,1234

Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and
when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons,
hear me speak but this.

80

II,4,1238

We two saw you four set on four and bound them, and
were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how a plain
tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you
four; and, with a word, out-faced you from your
prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in
the house: and, Falstaff, you carried your guts
away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared
for mercy and still run and roared, as ever I heard
bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword
as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight!
What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst
thou now find out to hide thee from this open and
apparent shame?

81

II,4,1266

Content; and the argument shall be thy running away.

82

II,4,1270

How now, my lady the hostess! what sayest thou to
me?

83

II,4,1275

Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and
send him back again to my mother.

84

II,4,1281

Prithee, do, Jack.

85

II,4,1284

Now, sirs: by'r lady, you fought fair; so did you,
Peto; so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you
ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true
prince; no, fie!

86

II,4,1289

'Faith, tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's
sword so hacked?

87

II,4,1299

O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years
ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since
thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and
sword on thy side, and yet thou rannest away: what
instinct hadst thou for it?

88

II,4,1306

I do.

89

II,4,1308

Hot livers and cold purses.

90

II,4,1310

No, if rightly taken, halter.
[Re-enter FALSTAFF]
Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone.
How now, my sweet creature of bombast!
How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee?

91

II,4,1331

He that rides at high speed and with his pistol
kills a sparrow flying.

92

II,4,1334

So did he never the sparrow.

93

II,4,1336

Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so
for running!

94

II,4,1339

Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

95

II,4,1345

Why, then, it is like, if there come a hot June and
this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads
as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds.

96

II,4,1356

Not a whit, i' faith; I lack some of thy instinct.

97

II,4,1359

Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the
particulars of my life.

98

II,4,1363

Thy state is taken for a joined-stool, thy golden
sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich
crown for a pitiful bald crown!

99

II,4,1371

Well, here is my leg.

100

II,4,1403

What manner of man, an it like your majesty?

101

II,4,1416

Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me,
and I'll play my father.

102

II,4,1421

Well, here I am set.

103

II,4,1423

Now, Harry, whence come you?

104

II,4,1425

The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.

105

II,4,1428

Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look
on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace:
there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an
old fat man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why
dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that
bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel
of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed
cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with
the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that
grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in
years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and
drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a
capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft?
wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villanous,
but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?

106

II,4,1445

That villanous abominable misleader of youth,
Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan.

107

II,4,1448

I know thou dost.

108

II,4,1464

I do, I will.

109

II,4,1474

Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon a fiddlestick:
what's the matter?

110

II,4,1481

And thou a natural coward, without instinct.

111

II,4,1486

Go, hide thee behind the arras: the rest walk up
above. Now, my masters, for a true face and good
conscience.

112

II,4,1491

Call in the sheriff.
[Exeunt all except PRINCE HENRY and PETO]
[Enter Sheriff and the Carrier]
Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me?

113

II,4,1497

What men?

114

II,4,1501

The man, I do assure you, is not here;
For I myself at this time have employ'd him.
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee
That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time,
Send him to answer thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charged withal:
And so let me entreat you leave the house.

115

II,4,1510

It may be so: if he have robb'd these men,
He shall be answerable; and so farewell.

116

II,4,1513

I think it is good morrow, is it not?

117

II,4,1516

This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go,
call him forth.

118

II,4,1520

Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his pockets.
[He searcheth his pockets, and findeth certain papers]
What hast thou found?

119

II,4,1524

Let's see what they be: read them.

120

II,4,1530

O monstrous! but one half-penny-worth of bread to
this intolerable deal of sack! What there is else,
keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there
let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the
morning. We must all to the wars, and thy place
shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a
charge of foot; and I know his death will be a
march of twelve-score. The money shall be paid
back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in
the morning; and so, good morrow, Peto.

121

III,2,1841

So please your majesty, I would I could
Quit all offences with as clear excuse
As well as I am doubtless I can purge
Myself of many I am charged withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devised,
which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,
By smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.

122

III,2,1915

I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord,
Be more myself.

123

III,2,1953

Do not think so; you shall not find it so:
And God forgive them that so much have sway'd
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head
And in the closing of some glorious day
Be bold to tell you that I am your son;
When I will wear a garment all of blood
And stain my favours in a bloody mask,
Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it:
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet.
For every honour sitting on his helm,
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which if He be pleased I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:
If not, the end of life cancels all bands;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

124

III,3,2103

What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy
husband? I love him well; he is an honest man.

125

III,3,2107

What sayest thou, Jack?

126

III,3,2111

What didst thou lose, Jack?

127

III,3,2115

A trifle, some eight-penny matter.

128

III,3,2120

What! he did not?

129

III,3,2137

An otter, Sir John! Why an otter?

130

III,3,2142

Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.

131

III,3,2145

Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?

132

III,3,2153

I say 'tis copper: darest thou be as good as thy word now?

133

III,3,2157

And why not as the lion?

134

III,3,2161

O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy
knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith,
truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine; it is all
filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest
woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whoreson,
impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything in
thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of
bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of
sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, if thy pocket
were enriched with any other injuries but these, I
am a villain: and yet you will stand to if; you will
not pocket up wrong: art thou not ashamed?

135

III,3,2178

It appears so by the story.

136

III,3,2187

O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to
thee: the money is paid back again.

137

III,3,2190

I am good friends with my father and may do any thing.

138

III,3,2194

I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

139

III,3,2201

Bardolph!

140

III,3,2203

Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, to my
brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland.
[Exit Bardolph]
Go, Peto, to horse, to horse; for thou and I have
thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
[Exit Peto]
Jack, meet me to-morrow in the temple hall at two
o'clock in the afternoon.
There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive
Money and order for their furniture.
The land is burning; Percy stands on high;
And either we or they must lower lie.

141

IV,2,2418

How now, blown Jack! how now, quilt!

142

IV,2,2429

I think, to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath
already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose
fellows are these that come after?

143

IV,2,2433

I did never see such pitiful rascals.

144

IV,2,2442

No I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on
the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is
already in the field.

145

V,1,2624

The southern wind
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
Foretells a tempest and a blustering day.

146

V,1,2652

Peace, chewet, peace!

147

V,1,2706

In both your armies there is many a soul
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world
In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes,
This present enterprise set off his head,
I do not think a braver gentleman,
More active-valiant or more valiant-young,
More daring or more bold, is now alive
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry;
And so I hear he doth account me too;
Yet this before my father's majesty—
I am content that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation,
And will, to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.

148

V,1,2739

It will not be accepted, on my life:
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
Are confident against the world in arms.

149

V,1,2748

Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
Say thy prayers, and farewell.

150

V,1,2751

Why, thou owest God a death.

151

V,3,2925

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.

152

V,3,2933

He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. I prithee,
lend me thy sword.

153

V,3,2937

Give it to me: what, is it in the case?

154

V,3,2940

What, is it a time to jest and dally now?

155

V,4,2954

I beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.

156

V,4,2959

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!

157

V,4,2967

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.

158

V,4,2974

O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all!

159

V,4,2993

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.
[They fight: DOUGLAS flies]
Cheerly, my lord. how fares your grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succor sent,
And so hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton straight.

160

V,4,3006

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.

161

V,4,3017

Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.

162

V,4,3019

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.

163

V,4,3029

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.

164

V,4,3051

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!
[He spieth FALSTAFF on the ground]
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.

165

V,4,3100

Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh'd
Thy maiden sword.

166

V,4,3104

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.

167

V,4,3116

Why, Percy I killed myself and saw thee dead.

168

V,4,3127

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.
[A retreat is sounded]
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.

169

V,5,3159

The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
The noble Percy slain, and all his men
Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest;
And falling from a hill, he was so bruised
That the pursuers took him. At my tent
The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace
I may dispose of him.

170

V,5,3168

Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you
This honourable bounty shall belong:
Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free:
His valour shown upon our crests to-day
Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds
Even in the bosom of our adversaries.

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