O ceremony, fhew me but thy worth: What is thy toll, O adoration? Art thou aught elfe but place, degree, and form, Wherein thou art lefs happy, being fear'd, What drink'st thou oft, inftead of homage fweet, Will it give place to flexure and low bending ? Emendation. What are thy Rents? What are thy Comings-in?' What is thy Worth? What is thy Toll?- (i. e. the Duties, and Impofts, thou receiveft;) All here is confonant, and agreeable to a fenfible Exclamation, Mr. Warburton. Winding Winding up days with toil, and nights with fleep, What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace; Enter Erpingham. Erp. My lord, your Nobles, jealous of your abfence,. Seek through your camp to find you. K. Henry. Good old Knight, Collect them all together at my tent: Erp. I fhall do't, my lord. [Exit. K. Henry. O God of battles! fteel my foldiers hearts; Poffefs them not with fear; take from them now (21) Not to day, O Lord, And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears, (12) take from them now The Senfe of reck'ning of th' oppofed Numbers: Pluck their hearts from them.] Thus the firft folio reads and points this Paffage. The Poet might intend, "Take from "them the Senfe of reckoning thofe oppofed Numbers; which might pluck their Courage from them." But the relative not-bring exprefs'd, the Sense is very obscure; and the following Verb feems a Petition, in the Imperative Mood. The Aight Correction I have given, makes it clear and cafie. Since that my penitence comes after call, (22) Glou. My Liege. Enter Gloucefter. K. Henry. My brother Glo' fter's voice? [Exeunt SCENE changes to the French Camp. Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and Beaumont. Orl. THE Sun doth gild our armour ; up, my lords. Dau. Montez Cheval: my horfe, valet, lacquay: ha! Dau. Via! - les eaux & la terre. Orl. Rien puis! le air & feu. Enter Conftable. Now, my lord Conftable! Con. Hark, how our Steeds for present service neigh Dau. Mount them, and make incifion in their hides, That their hot blood may fpin in English eyes, (22) Since that my Penitence comes after all, Imploring pardon.]. We muft obferve, that Henry IV. had com mitted an Injustice, of which he and his Son reap'd the Fruits. But Juftice and right Reafon tell us, that they, who share the Profits of Iniquity, fhall fhare likewife in the Punishment. Scripture again tells us, that, when Men have finn'd, the Grace of God gives frequent Invitations to Repentance; which, in Scripture-language, are ftyled Calls. Thefe, if they - have been carelessly dallied with, and neglected, are at length irrecoverably withdrawn; and then Repentance comes too late. This, I hope, will fufficiently vouch for my Emendation, and explain what the Poet would make the King fay. Mr. Warburton. And And daunt them with fuperfluous courage: ha ! Ram. What, will you have them weep our Horfes blood? How fhall we then behold their natural tears? Enter a Messenger. Me The English are embattel'd, you French Peers. Con. To horfe! you gallant Princes, ftrait to horfe! Do but behold yon poor aud ftarved band, And your fair fhew fhall fuck away their fouls; About our fquares of battle, were enow But that our honours must not. What's to fay And all is done. Then let the trumpets found Grand. Why do you ftay fo long, my lords of France? With torch-ftaves in their hand; and their poor jades Con. They've faid their prayers, and they ftay for Dau. Shall we go fend them dinners and fresh futes, And give their fafting Horfes provender, And, after, fight with them? Con. I ftay but for my guard: on, to the field; And use it for my hafte. Come, come, away! SCENE, the English CAM P. Enter Gloucefter, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham, with all the Hoft; Salisbury and Weftmorland. Glou. HERE is the King? WHI Bed. The King himself is rode to view their battle. Weft. Of fighting men they have full threefcore thou-fand. Exc. There's five to one; befides, they all are fresh. Sal. God's arm ftrike with us, 'tis a fearful odds!. God be wi' you, Princes all; I'll to my charge. If we no more meet till we meet in heav'n, Then joyfully, my noble lord of Bedford, My dear lord Glofter, and my good lord Exeter, And my kind kinfman, warriors all,. adieu! Bed: |