Page:Henry IV Part 1 (1917) Yale.djvu/118

104 

Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at

London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring

but upon the pate. Soft! who art thou? Sir

Walter Blunt: there's honour 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?

Prince. 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 unreveng'd: prithee, lend me thy sword.

Fal. O Hal! I prithee, give me leave to

breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such

deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have

paid Percy, I have made him sure.

Prince. He is indeed; and living to kill thee.

I prithee, lend me thy sword.

Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive,

thou gett'st not my sword; but take my pistol,

if thou wilt.

Prince. Give it me. What! is it in the case?

Fal. Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot: there's that

will sack a city.

 30 shot-free: without having to pay

46 Turk Gregory; cf. n. 