And all the courses of my life do fhew
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipt in with the fea

That chides the banks of England, Wales, or Scotland,
Who calls me pupil, or hath read to me ?

And bring him out, that is but woman's fon,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,
Or hold me pace in deep experiments.

HOT. I think there is no man speaks better Welch. GLEN. I can speak English, Lord, as well as you, For I was train'd up in the English court:

Where, being young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty lovely well,

And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;
A virtue that was never feen in you.

Hor. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart;

I'd rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these fame metre-ballad mongers!

I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree,
And that would nothing fet my teeth on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry ;

'Tis like the forc'd gait of a fhuffling nag.—
GLEN. And I can call fpirits from the vasty deep.
HOT. Why, fo can I, or fo can any man :
But will they come when you do call for them?

GLEN. Why, 1 can teach thee to command the devil.
HOT. And I can teach thee, coz, to fhame the devil,
By telling truth; Tell truth and shame the devil.→
If thou haft power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be fworn I've pow'r to fhame him hence.
Oh, while you live, Tell truth and flame the devil.
SHAKESPEARE.

९०

CHAP. XV.

HOTSPUR READING A LETTER.

BUT

UT for my own part, my Lord, I could be well " contented to be there in respect of the love I bear your " houfe." He could be contented to be there; why is he not then? "In respect of the love he bears our house!" He fhews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our houfe. Let me fee fome more. "The purpofe you undertake is dangerous." Why, that is certain: it is dangerous to take a cold, to fleep, to drink: but I tell you, my Lord fool, out of this nettle danger we pluck this flower fafety. "The purpose you undertake is dan66 gerous, the friends you have named uncertain, the time "itself unforted, and your whole plot too light for the counterpoife of fo great an oppofition" Say you so! fay you fo! I fay unto you again, you are a fhallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and conftant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frofty-fpirited rogue this is? Why, my Lord of York commends the plot, and the general courfe of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his Lady's fan. Are there not my fa ther, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, befides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month? and are there not fome of them fet forward already? What a Pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you fhall fee now, in very fincerity 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 fuch a dish of skimmed milk

with fo honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will fet forward to-night. SHAKESPEARE,

CHAP. XVI.

HENRY IV'S SOLILOQUY ON SLEEP.

How many thousands of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O gentle Sleep,
Nature's foft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And fteep my fenfes in forgetfulness?

Why rather, Sleep, lay'ft thou in fmoky cribs,
Upon eafy pallets ftretching thee,

And hufh'd with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the Great,
Under the canopies of coftly flate,

And lull'd with founds of sweetest melody?

O thou dull God, why lay'ft thou with the vile
In loathfome beds, and leav'it the kingly couch,
A watch-cafe to a common larum-bell?

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy maft,
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains,
In cradle of the rude imperious furge;

And in the vifitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the flipp'ry fhrouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes:
Can't thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repofe
To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude;
And, in the calmeft and the ftilleft night,
With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a king? Then, happy lowly clown;
Uneafy lies the head that wears a crown...

SHAKESPEARE.

CHAP. XVII.

HENRY IV. AND PRINCE HENRY.

P. HEN. I NEVER thought to hear you speak again. K. HENRY. Thy with was father, Harry, to that thought.

I ftay too long by thee, I weary thee.

Doft thou fo hunger for my empty chair,

That thou wilt needs inveft thee with my honours,
Before thy hour be ripe! O foolish youth!
Thou feek'ft the greatnefs that will o'erwhelm thee.
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity

Is held from falling with fo weak a wind,!

That it will quickly drop; my day is dim..
Thou haft ftol'n that, which after fome few hours,
Were thine without offence; and at my death
Thou haft fealed up my expectation;

Thy life did manifeft, thou lov'dft me not;
And thou wilt have me die affur'd of it.

Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
Which thou haft whetted on thy ftony heart,
To ftab at half an hour of my frail life.

What! canft thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyfelf,
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 duft,
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;
Henry the Fifth is crown'd: up, Vanity!

Down, Royal state! All you fage counsellors, hence!

And

And to the English court affemble now,

From ev'ry region, apes of idleness:

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your fcum ; Have you a ruffian that will fwear? drink? dance? murder and commit

Revel the night ? rob

The oldeft fins the newest kind of ways?

Be happy, he will trouble you no more;
England fhall 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 moift impediments unto my speech)

I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,

Ere you with grief had fpoke, and I had heard

The course of it so far.

There is your crown ;
And he that wears the crown immortally,
Long guard it yours! If I affect it more,
Than as your honour, and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rife,
Which my most true and inward duteous fpirit
Teacheth this proftrate and exterior bending.
Heav'n witnefs with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your Majefty,
How cold it ftruck my heart! If 1 do feign,
O let me in my prefent wildnefs die,
And never live to fhew th' incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed. -
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
(And dead almoft, my Liege, to think you were)

I spake