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 P. 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 Into one giant arm, it shall not force This lineal honour from me: This from thee Re-enter WARWICK, and the rest. [strength [Exit Cla. 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. [see him: War. This door is open; he is gone this way. P. Humph. He came not through the chamber where we stay'd. [pillow? K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from my 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 [him out. Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither. My sleep my death? [Exit Warwick. This part of his conjoins with my disease, And helps to end me.-See, sous, 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 Their bones with industry; For this they have engrossed and pil'd up, The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold; [care, Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey, Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste Re-enter WARWICK. Now, where is he that will not stay so long War. My lord, I found the prince in the next room, 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 What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum: Be happy, he will trouble you no more: P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears, The moist impediments unto my speech, I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke, And never live to show the incredulous world And thus upbraided it: The care on thee depending, Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of gold. Preserving life in med'cine potable: But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd, Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most 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,- But if it did infect my blood with joy, Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride; Did, with the least affection of a welcome, Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence, 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, 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, So thou the garland wear'st successively. Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, |