_Prince._ For worms, brave Percy: fare thee well, great heart![3198] 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; 90 But now two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough: this earth that bears thee dead[3199] Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. If thou wert sensible of courtesy, I should not make so dear a show of zeal:[3200] 95 But let my favours hide thy mangled face;[3201] And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself For doing these fair rites of tenderness.[3202] Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,[3203] 100 But not remember'd in thy epitaph! [_He spieth Falstaff on the ground._[3204] 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, 105 If I were much in love with vanity! Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day,[3205] Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. Embowell'd will I see thee by and by: Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. [_Exit._ 110 _Fal._ [_Rising up_] Embowelled! if thou embowel me[3206] to-day, I'll give you leave to powder me and eat me too to-morrow. 'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot[3207] termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I[3208] lie, I am no counterfeit: to die, is to be a counterfeit; for[3208] 115 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[3209] 120 afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead: how, if[3210] he should counterfeit too, and rise? by my faith, I am[3211] afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore I'll make him sure; yea, and I'll swear I killed him. Why[3212] may not he rise as well as I? Nothing confutes me but 125 eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah [_stabbing[3213] him_], with a new wound in your thigh, come you along[3214] with me. [_Takes up Hotspur on his back._ _Re-enter the_ PRINCE of WALES _and_ LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER.[3215] _Prince._ Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh'd[3216] Thy maiden sword. _Lan._ But, soft! whom have we here?[3217] 130 Did you not tell me this fat man was dead?