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Let me no more from this obedience rise,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
K. Hen. O my son! Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence, That thou might'st win the more thy father's love, Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed; And hear, I think, the very latest counsel That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son, By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, I met this crown; and I myself know well, How troublesome it sat upon my head: To thee it shall descend with better quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation ; For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth. It seem'd in me, But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand; And I had many living, to upbraid My gain of it by their assistances; Which daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed, Wounding supposed peace 89: all these bold fears, Thou see'st, with peril I have answered: For all my reign hath been but as a scene Acting that
argument; and now my death Changes the mode: for what in me was purchas’d, Falls upon
thee in a more fairer sort; So thou the garland wear'st successively. Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green; And all thy friends 90, which thou must make thy
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;
live! P. Hen. My gracious liege, You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me: Then plain, and right, must my possession be: Which I, with more than with a common pain, 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. Enter Prince John of LANCASTER, WARWICK,
Lords, and others.
father! K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness, and peace,
son John; But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare, wither'd trunk: upon thy sight,
My lord of Warwick!
War. 'Tis call’d Jerusalem, my noble lord.
ACT V. SCENE I.
Glocestershire. A Hall in Shallow's House.
Enter SHallow, Falstaff, BARDOLPH, and Page.
Shal. 93 By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away to-night.-What, Davy, I say!
Fal. You must excuse me, master Robert Shallow.
Shal. I will not excuse you 94; you shall not be excused; excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused. Why Davy!
Davy. Here, sir.
Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy,- let me see, Davy; let me see :-yea, marry, William cook, bid him come bither.—Sir John, you shall not be excused.
Davy. Marry, sir, thus ;—those precepts cannot be served: and, again, sir,-Shall we sow the headland with wheat? Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for William
-Are there no young pigeons? Davy. Yes, sir.—Here is now the smith's note, for shoeing, and plough-irons.
Shal. Let it be cast, and paid:-sir John, you shall not be excused.
Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must