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The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them over,
Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between:
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say, it did so, a little time before
That our great grandsire, Edward, sick’d and died.
War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.
P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end.
K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence Into some other chamber: softly, 'pray.
[They convey the King into an inner part of the
room, and place him on a Bed.
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
War. Call for the music in the other room.
K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Less noise, less noise.
Enter Prince HENRY.
P. Hen. Who saw the duke of Clarence?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
P. Hen. How now! rain within doors, and none abroad! How doth the king?
P. Humph. Exceeding ill.
P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.
P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it.
P. Hen. If he be sick With joy, he will recover without physic. War. Not so much noise, my lords :--sweet prince,
The king, your father, is dispos’d to sleep.
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will’t please your grace to go along with us?
P. Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the king.
[Exeunt all but Prince Henry.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night!-sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not:
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move.—My gracious lord ! my father!--
This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep,
That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd
So many English kings. Thy due, from me,
Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood;
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously :
My due, from thee, is this imperial crown;
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,-
[Putting it on his head. Which heaven shall guard: And put the world's whole
strength Into one giant arm, it shall not force This lineal honour from me: This from thec
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.
K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence!
Re-enter WARWICK and the rest.. Cla. Doth the king call? War. What would your majesty? How fares your grace! K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords !
Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my liege, Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
K. Hen. The prince of Wales ? Where is he? let me
He is not here.
War. This door is open; he is gone this way.
P. Humph. He came not through the chamber where
K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from
my pillow? War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. K. Hen. The prince hath ta’en it hence :-go, seek
Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose
My sleep my death ?
Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.
[Exit WARWICK. This part of his conjoins with
my disease, And helps to end me.-See, sons, what things you are! How quickly nature falls into revolt, When gold becomes her object ! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with
care, Their bones with industry; For this they have engrossed and pild up
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises :
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets;
Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste
Yield his engrossments to the ending father.-
Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?
War. My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff’d but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the crown?
Re-enter Prince HENRY.
Lo, where he comes.--Come hither to me, Harry :-
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
[Exeunt CLARENCE, Prince HUMPHREY, Lords, &c. P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again.
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought: I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair, That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth ! Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee,
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.
Thou hast stoľn that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and, at my death,
Thou hast seald up my expectation :
Thy life did manifest, thou lov’dst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts ;
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
To stab at half an hour of my life.
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ?
Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyself ;
Anu bid the merry bells ring to thine ear,
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse,
Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head:
Only compound me with forgotten dust;
Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms.
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;
For now a time is come to mock at form,
Harry the fifth is crown'd:-Up, vanity!
Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence !
And to the English court assemble now,
From every region, apes of idleness !
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum:
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night; rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England shall double gild his treble guilt;
England shall give him office, honour, might: