No Fear Shakespeare
Henry IV Part 1
Get this No Fear to go!
Act 5, Scene 3, Page 2
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HOTSPUR
Where?
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HOTSPUR
Where?
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DOUGLAS
Here.
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DOUGLAS
Here.
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HOTSPUR
This, Douglas? No, I know this face full well.
A gallant knight he was; his name was Blunt,
Semblably furnished like the King himself.
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HOTSPUR
This, Douglas? No. I know this man: he was a brave knight, by the name of Blunt; he is disguised as the King.
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DOUGLAS
(to BLUNT) A fool go with thy soul whither it goes!
A borrowed title hast thou bought too dear.
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?
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DOUGLAS
(to BLUNT) Wherever your soul is off to now, let it carry the name of fool! You paid too much for that borrowed title. Why did you tell me you were a king?
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HOTSPUR
The King hath many marching in his coats.
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HOTSPUR
The King has many men on the battlefield disguised in his uniform.
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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.
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DOUGLAS
Now, I swear on my sword, I’ll kill all his uniforms! I’ll murder every item of his clothing, one piece at a time, until I find the King himself.
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HOTSPUR
Up and away!
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day.
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HOTSPUR
Get going! Our side looks like it will win today.
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Exeunt |
They exit. |
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Alarum. Enter
FALSTAFF alone. |
The trumpets play a call to arms.FALSTAFF
enters, alone. |
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FALSTAFF
Though I could ’scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot
here. Here’s no scoring but upon the pate.—Soft, who are
you? Sir Walter Blunt. There’s honor 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 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?
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FALSTAFF
I could always escape shot-free in London, but I’m scared of getting shot out here. Here, you take it on the head. Wait a minute—who’s this? Sir Walter Blunt! There’s honor for you, but no vanity! I’m as hot as molten lead, and as heavy, too; so God keep the lead out of me. I don’t need any lead bullets in my belly—my own guts are heavy enough. My army of ragged bums has been massacred. Not even three of my hundred-fifty troops are still alive, and the ones who are have run away, to panhandle in the streets. Who’s coming?
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