I fpake unto the crown, as having fenfe,''

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, lefs fine in carrat, is more precious,
Preferving life in med'cine potable:

But thou, moft fine, moft honour'd, most renown'd,
Haft eat thy bearer up. Thus, Royal Liege,
Accufing 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 fwell my thoughts to any ftrain of pride,
If any rebel or vain fpirit of mine a
Did with the leaft affection of a welcome
Give entertainment to the might of it:
Let Heav'n for ever keep it from my head,
And make me as the pooreft vaffal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
fon!

K. HENRY. O my

Heav'n put into thy mind to take it hence,

That thou might'ft win the more thy father's love,
Pleading fo wifely in excuse of it.

Come hither, Harry, fit thou by my bed;

And hear, I think, the very lateft counsel

That ever I fhall breathe. Heav'n knows, my fon,
By what bye-paths, and indirect crook'd ways
I met this crown: and I myself know well,
How troublesome it fat upon my head.
To thee it shall defcend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation :
For all the foil of the atchievement goes
With me into the earth. It feem'd in me

But as an honour snatch'd with boist'rous hand,

And

My gain of it by their affiftances ;

And I had many living to upbraid

Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding fuppofed peace. All their bold feats,
Thou feeft, with peril I have answer'd.
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
A&ting that argument and now my death
Changes the mode; for what in me was purchas'd,
Falls upon thee in a much fairer fort;

For thou the garland wear'ft fucceffively.

Yet though thou ftand'ft more fure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, fince griefs are green;
And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends,
Have but their flings and teeth newly ta'en out ;
By whofe fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whofe power I well might lodge a fear,
To be again difplac'd; which to avoid

I cut them off, and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the holy land;

Left reft and lying still might make them look
Too near into my ftate. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy courfe to bufy giddy minds

With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May wafte the memory of former days.

More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That ftrength of speech is utterly deny'd me.
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive!
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
P. HENRY. My gracious Liege,

You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it;
Then plain and right muft my possession be;
Which I with more than with a common pain,
'Gainst all the world, will rightfully maintain.

SHAKESPEARE.

HENRY V. TO HIS SOLDIERS.

WHAT's he that wishes for more men from England?

My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair coufin,
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

To do our country lofs; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater fhare of honour.
God's will! I pray thee with not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous of gold;

Nor care I who doth feed upon my coft ;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my
defires:
But if it be a fin to covet honour,
I am the moft offending foul alive.

No, 'faith, my Lord, with not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lofe fo great an honour,
As one man more, methinks, would fhare from me,
For the best hopes I have. Don't wish one more :
Rather proclaim it (Weftmoreland) through my hoft,
That he which hath no ftomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his paffport fhall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purfe:
We would not die in that man's company,
That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day is call'd the feaft of Crifpian:
He that outlives this day and comes fafe home,
Will ftand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And roufe him at the name of Crifpian :
He that outlives this day, and fees old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feaft his neighbours,
And fay, To-morrow is Saint Crispian :
Then will he ftrip his fleeve and fhew his fears.
Old men forget; yet fhall not all forget,

But

But they'll remember, with advantages,

The feats they did that day. Then fhall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household-words,

Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glo'fter,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son:
And Crifpian Crifpian fhall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it fhall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he e'er fo vile,
This day fhall gentle his condition.
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,

:

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,
That fought with us upon St. Crifpian's Day.

CHAP. XIX.

SHAKESPEARE.

HENRY VI. WARWICK, AND CARDINAL
BEAUFORT.

K. HENRY. How fares my Lord? Speak, Beaufort,

to thy Sovereign.

CAR. If thou be'ft Death, I'll give thee England's treasure,

Enough to purchase fuch another island,

So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

K. HENRY. Ah, what a fign it is of evil life,

Where death's approach is feen fo terrible!

WAR. Beaufort, it is thy Sovereign (peaks to thee. CAR. Bring me unto my trial when you will.

Dy'd he not in his bed? Where should he die?

743

Can

Can I make men live whether they will or no?
Oh, torture me no more, I will confefs-
Alive again? Then fhew me where he is :
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him-
He hath no eyes, the duft hath blinded them :
Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright,
Like lime twigs fet to catch my winged foul.
Give me fome drink, and bid th' apothecary
Bring the strong poifon that I bought of him.

K. HENRY. O thou eternal Mover of the heav'ns,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch;
Oh, beat away the bufy meddling fiend,
That lays ftrong fiege unto this wretch's foul,
And from his bofom purge this black despair.
-Peace to his foul, if God's good pleasure be !
Lord Cardinal, if thou think'ft on heaven's blifs,
Hold up thy hand, make fignal of thy hope.
He dies, and makes no fign! O God, forgive him.
WAR. So bad a death argues a monftrous life.
K. HENRY. Forbear to judge, for we are finners all.
Clofe up his eyes, and draw the curtain close,

And let us all to meditation.

CHAP. XX.

SHAKESPEARE.

WOLSEY AND CROMWELL.

WOL. FAREWELL, a long farewell to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow bloffoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes a froft, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good eafy man, full furely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his shoot;
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys, 'that fwim on bladders,
These many fummers in a fea of glory;

But