What, old acquaintance ! Could not all this flesh
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell!
I could have better spar'd a better man.
Oh, 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.-
Embowell’d will I see thee by and by :

Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. We are now, in imagination, spectators of the bloody field, with nothing apparently in view,--now that the prince is for a moment gone,—but the bodies of the slain. But look attentively, and you will see some signs of life in the mass before you. By degrees, the signs are more evident ; and at length a figure that you cannot mistake for a ghost, stands erect before you, and speaks : [Falstaff.] Embowelled !--if thou embowel me to-day, I 'll

give thee 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 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. I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy though he be dead :-how he should counterfeit and rise too? 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 he not rise as well as I ? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah

His soliloquy is interrupted by the return of prince Henry, who brings with him John of Lancaster, with whom the elder prince is in conversation : [P. Hen.] Come, brother John, full bravely hast thou flesh'd

Thy maiden sword.

[P. John.] But soft! whom have we here?

Did you not tell me this fat man was dead ?
[P. Henry.] I did indeed ; I saw him dead and bleeding

Upon the ground. -
Art thou alive? or is it fantasy
That plays upon our eye-sight? 'Prythee, speak.
We will not trust our eyes without our ears :

Thou art not what thou seem'st.
[Falstaff:] No, that's certain ; I'm not a double man,

but if not Falstaff, then am I a Jack: There is Percy;
an your father give me honour, so; if not, let him kill
the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or

duke, I can tell you.
[P. Henry.] Why Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead.
[Falstaff:] Didst thou? Oh how this world is given to

lying! I grant you I was down, and out of breath ; and
so was he: but we both rose 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 on their own heads.
[P. John.] This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard.
[P. Henry.] This is the strangest fellow, brother John.-

Come, bear the body nobly to the king :
For my part, if a lie may do you grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours :
Come, let us to the highest of the field,

And see what friends are living, who are dead.
We follow the princes, and find the king surrounded by
many of his own party, and by some of those he had con-
tended against, who are now prisoners: among the latter
are Worcester and Vernon : the king speaks :
[K. Henry.] Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.—

Ill spi'rited Worcester, did we not send grace,
Pardon, and terms of love, to all of you ?
Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too :

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Other offenders we will pause upon.
And now remains, that we divide our power :
You, son John, and my cousin Westmorland,
Towa’rd York shall bend you; for the prelate Scroop,
And lord Northumberland, are still in arms.
Myself, and you, son Harry, will to Wales,
To fight with Gléndo’wer and the earl of March.
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Meeting the check of such another day:
And since this business thus far fair is done,
Let us not leave till all our own be won.

THE CONTINUANCE OF CIVIL AGITATIONS SUBSEQUENT TO THE BAT

TLE OF SHREWSBURY, INDICATED BY SCENES IMAGINED TO
OCCUR NEAR THE OPPOSITE EXTREMITIES OF THE KINGDOM,
AT WARKWORTH, THE CASTLE OF THE PERCIES IN NORTHUM-
BERLAND,—AND AT THE ROYAL PALACE IN LONDON.

HISTORICAL MEMORANDA.

to join

When the civil war was ready to break out, Northumberland was seized with sickness at Berwick, which by some was thought to be simulated. Recovering from his sickness, he was on his way his son, when he heard of the battle of Shrewsbury. After that event his conduct was vacillating. He pretended to the king that he had had no other intention in arming than to mediate between the parties ; and the king thought proper to accept his apology.

In the mean time, the rebellion proceeded, the parties in it still relying on the assistance of Northumberland. The chief of these parties were the earl of Nottingham, who was son of the duke of Norfolk, and the Archbishop of York, whose brother, the earl of Wiltshire, Henry, while only duke of Lancaster, had beheaded at Bristol. There was a lord Bardolf of the disaffected party; and it was with him that Northumberland subsequently fled into Scotland.

We are to imagine an inner gate of the castle of Warkworth Lord Bardólf calls to the porter, gives his name, and desires it may be signified to the earl. refers him to the orchard, where the earl is walking; but before lord Burdólf has time to go thither, the earl comes from his walk, and speaks :

The porter

:

[North.] What news, my lord Bardólf? each minute now

Should be the father of some stratagem.
The times are wild: contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly' hath broken loose,

And bears down all before him. [L. Bardolf.] Noble earl,

I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
[Northumberland.] Good, an heaven will!
[L. Bardolf.] As good as heart can wish:

The king is almost wounded to the death ;
And in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright: the Blunts are both
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas : young prince John,
And Westmorland, and Stafford, fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is priso'ner to your son : Oh, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not, till now, to dignify the times

Since Cæsar's conquests.
[Northumberland.] How is this deriv'd ?

Saw you the field ? Came you from Shrewsbury ? [L. Bardolf.] I spoke with one, my lord, who said he came,

And freely render'd me this news for true. [North.] Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent

On Tuesday last to listen after news. [L. Bardolf.] My lord, I over-rode him on the way,

And he is furnish'd with no certainties

More than he haply may retail from me. [Northumberland.] Well, we shall hear:

Now, Travers, what good tidings come with you?
[Travers.] My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back

With joyful tidings, and, being better hors’d,
Outrode me. After him came spurring hard,
A gentleman almost forespent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.

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He ask'd the way to Chester, and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.
With that he gave his able horse the head,
And seem'd in running to devour the way,

Staying no longer question. [Northumberland.] Ha!

Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?

Said he rebellion had bad luck? [L. Bardolf.] My lord,

I'll tell you what, your son has got the day,
Or, by mine honour, for a silken point

I'll give my barony :-never talk of it. [North.] Why should the gentleman that rode by Travers

Give then such instances of loss? [L. Bardolf.] Tut, he ?

He was some hilding fellow, that had stolen
The horse he rode on, and, upon my life,

Spoke at a venture.—Look, here comes more news. [North.] Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,

Foretels the nature of a tragic volume :

Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury ? [Morton.] I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,

Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask

To fright our party.
[North.] How doth my son,- and brother ?

Thou tremblest, and the whiteness of thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd,
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it.
Yet speak, Morton,