Sivut kuvina

K. Hen. The prince hath ta’en it hence :--go,

seek him out. Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose My sleep my death ? Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.

[Exit Warwick. This part of his conjoins with my disease, And helps to end me. See, sons, 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 care,
Their bones with industry ;
For this they have engrossed and piled up
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts and martial exercises :
When, like the bee, tolling 1 from every flower
The virtuous sweets ;
Our thighs pack’d with wax, our mouths with

We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
Yield his engrossments 2 to the ending father.

1 Taking toll.

2 Accumulacions.

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Re-enter WARWICK.

Now, where is he, that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determined 1 me?
War. My lord, I found the prince in the next

Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,
With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff’d but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the



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 honors Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm


1 Ended.

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 hast stolen that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and, at my death,
Thou hast seald up my expectation.'
Thy life did manifest, thou lovedst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts ;
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
To stab at half an hour of


life. 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 sanctify thy head : Only compound me with forgotten dust ; 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; Harry the Fifth is crown'd. Up, vanity! Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence ! And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness ! Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum. Have

you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance, Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit

Thou has confirmed my opinion.

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