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Lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his La dy's fań. Are there not my father, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower ? Is there not, besides the Douglas ? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month ? and are there not some of them set forward already. What a pagan rascal is this ! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with fo honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will set forward to-night.
HENRY IV.'s SOLILOQUY on SLEEP.
Are at this hour asleep! O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness !
Why rather, Sleep, lay'st thou in smoaky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy Numbers
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody?
Othou dull god, why lay'st thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'it the kingly couch
A watch-case to a common larum-bell?
Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy malt,
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains,
In cradle of the rude imperious furge ;
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf ’ning clamours in the flipp'ry shrouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canft thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour fo rude ;
And, in the calmest and the stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king ? Then, happy lowly clown;
"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
HENRY IV. AND PRINCE HENRY.
P. HENRY. NEVER thought to hear you speak again.
K, Henry. Thy wish was farher, Harry,
to that thought.
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Doft thou so hunger for my empty chair,
That thou wilt needs invest thee with my 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 haft stol'n that, which after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and at my death
Thou haft seal'd up my expectation ;
Thy life did manifeft thou lov’dst me not ;
And thou wilt have me die afsur'd of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
Which thou hast whetted on thy ftony heart,
To ftab at half an hour of
What ! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ?
Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself,
And 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 fanctify thy head; Only compound me with forgotten dust, Give that which gave thee life unto the worms, Pluck down my officers, break
decrees ; For now a time is come to mock at form
Henry the Fifth is crown'd: up, Vanity!
Down, Royal state! All you fage counsellors, hence !
And to the English court assemble now,
From ev'ry region, apes of idleness :
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your fcum ;
Have you a ruffian that will swear ? drink? dance ?
Revel the night ? rob ? murder ? and commit
The oldest fins the newest kind of ways ?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more :
England shall give him office, honour, might :
For the Fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
The muzzle of restraint ! and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent.
O my poor kingdom, fick with civil blows !
When that my care could not with-hold thy riot,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care ?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.
P. Henry. O pardon me, my Liege ! but for my tears
(The most impediments unto my speech)
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,
Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard
The course of it so far. There is
And he that wears the crown immortally,
Long guard it your's! If I affect it more,
Than as your honour, and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rise,
Which my most true and inward duteous spirit
Teacheth this proftrate and exterior bending.
Heav'n witness with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your Majesty,
How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,
O let me in my present wildness die,
And never live to show th’incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed.
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
(And dead almost, my Liege, to think you were)
I spake unto the crown, as having sense,
And thus upbraided it. The care on thee depending
Hath fed upon the body of my father,
Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold ;
Other less fine in carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable :
But thou, moft fine, most honour'd, most renown'd,
Haft eat thy bearer up. Thus, Royal Liege,
Accusing it, I put it on my head,
To try with it (as with an enemy,
That had before my face murder'd my father)
The quarrel of a true inheritor.
But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride,
If any rebel or vain fpirit of mine
Did with the least affection of a welcome
Give entertainment to the might of it :
Let Heav'n for ever keep it from
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
K. HENRY, O
Heav'n put into 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, fit thou by my bed;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe. Heav'n knows, my son,
By what bye-paths, and indirect crook'd ways
I met this crown; and I myself know well,
How troublesome it fat
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation :
For all the soil of the atchievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me
But as an honour snatch'd with boist'rous 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. All their bold feats,
Thou seest, with peril I have answer'd.
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument : and now my death