Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!

Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out

With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's
knee,

Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
I am a king, that find thee; and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The enter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave;3
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follows so the ever-running year
With profitable labour, to his grave:

2

farced title running, &c.] Farced is stuffed. The tumid puffy titles with which a king's name is always introduced. This, I think, is the sense.

JOHNSON.

3 Can sleep so soundly, &c.] These lines are exquisitely pleasing. To sweat in the eye of Phabus, and to sleep in Elysium, are expressions very poetical. JOHNSON.

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots,

What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.*

Enter ERPINGHAM.

Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your ab

sence,

Seek through your camp to find you.

Good old knight,

K. Hen.
Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.

Erp.

I shall do't, my lord. [Exit. K. Hen. O God of battles! steel my soldiers'

hearts!

Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them!-Not to-day, O Lord,
O not to-day, think not upon the fault

My father made in compassing the crown!
I Richard's body have interred new ;

And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it issued forced drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built

but- -little wots,

What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,

up

Whose hours the peasant best advantages.] The sense of this passage, which is expressed with some slight obscurity, seems to be-He little knows at the expence of how much royal vigilance, that peace, which brings most advantage to the peasant, is maintained. To advantage is a verb elsewhere used by Shakspeare.

Two chantries,' where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do :
Though all that I can do, is nothing worth;
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.

Glo. My liege!

K. Hen.

Enter GLOSTer.

My brother Gloster's voice?—Ay;

I know thy errand, I will go with thee:

The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The French Camp.

Enter Dauphin, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and Others.

Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my

lords.

Dau. Montez a cheval:-My horse! valet! lacquay! ha!

Orl. O brave spirit!

Dau. Via!-les eaux et la terre

Orl. Rien puis? l'air et le feu

Dau. Ciel! cousin Orleans.

Enter Constable.

Now, my lord Constable!

Two chantries,] One of these monasteries was for Carthusian monks, and was called Bethlehem; the other was for religious men and women of the order of Saint Bridget, and was named Sion. They were on opposite sides of the Thames, and adjoined the royal manor of Sheen, now called Richmond.

* Via!-les eaux et la terre-] Via is an old hortatory exclamation, as allons!

Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service

neigh.

Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their hides;

That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And dout them with superfluous courage: Ha!
Ram. What, will you have them weep our horses'
blood?

How shall we then behold their natural tears?

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. The English are embattled, you French peers.

Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!

Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair show shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands;
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins,
To give each naked curtle-ax a stain,

That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on

them,

The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants,-
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm

About our squares of battle,-were enough

Το

purge this field of such a hilding foe; Though we, upon this mountain's basis by Took stand for idle speculation:

But that our honours must not. What's to say?

7 And dout them-] Dout, is a word still used in Warwickshire,

and signifies to do out, or extinguish.

8

a hilding foe;] Hilding, or hinderling, is a low wretch.

A very little little let us do,

And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound The tucket-sonuance, and the note to mount: For our approach shall so much dare the field, That England shall couch down in fear, and yield.

Enter GRANDPRÉ.

Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of
France?

Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,'
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,

With torch-staves in their hand:2 and their poor

jades

Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips;
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes;
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit3
Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless;
And their executors, the knavish crows,

9 The tucket-sonuance, &c.] The tucket-sonuance was, perhaps, the name of an introductory flourish on the trumpet, as toccata in Italian is the prelude of a sonata on the harpsichord, and toccar la tromba is to blow the trumpet.

'Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,] By their ragged curtains, are meant their colours. The idea seems to have been taken from what every man must have observed, i. e. ragged curtains put in motion by the air, when the windows of mean houses are left open.

Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,

With torch-staves in their hand:] Grandpré alludes to the form of ancient candlesticks, which frequently represented human figures holding the sockets for the lights in their extended hands. gimmal bit-] Gimmal is, in the western counties, a ring; a gimmal bit is therefore a bit of which the parts played one within another.