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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 valor 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, (stabs the body) with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me. (he takes up HOTSPUR on his back)
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)
PRINCE HENRY and Lord John of LANCASTER enter.

Come, brother John. Full bravely hast thou fleshed
Thy maiden sword.
John, my brother, you’ve bravely proven yourself in this, your first battle.

   But soft, whom have we here?
Did you not tell me this fat man was dead?
Wait! Who do we have here? 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 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.

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. If your father will do me any honor,so; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you.
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.

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Henry IV Parts One and Two (No Fear Shakespeare)