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And the old folk (time's doting chronicles)
Say, it did so a little time before
That our great Grandsire Edward fick'd and dy'd.

War. Speak lower, Princes, for the King recovers.
Glou. This apoplex will, certain, be his end.
K. Henry. I pray you, take me up, and bear me

hence
Into some other chamber: softly, 'pray.
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends,
Unless some doleing, favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

War. Call for the music in the other room.
K. Henry. Set me the crown upon the pillow here:
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Less noise, less noise.

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P. Henry. W Hla

. I am here, brother, full of hea;

Enter Prince Henry.
HO saw the Duke of Clarence ?

Cla, ,
viness,

[abroad? P. Henry. How now! rain within doors, and none How doth the King ? Glou. Exceeding

ill. P. Henry. Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.

Glou. He alter'd much upon the hearing it.

P. Henry. If he be fick with joy, He'll recover without physic. War. Not so much noise, my lords ; sweet Prince,

speak low;
The King, your father, is dispos'd to sleep.

Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will't please your grace to go along with us?
P. Henry. No; I will fit, and watch here by the King.

[Exeunt all but P. Henry. I 5

Why

Why doth the Crown lie there upon the pillow,
Being so troublesome a bed-fellow ?
O polish'd perturbation ! golden care !
Thar keep'&t the ports of flumber open wide
To many a watchful night: sleep with it now!
Yet not fo found, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow, with homely biggen bound,
Snores out the watch of night. ' o Majesty!
When thou doft pinch thy bearer, thou dost fit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with fafety. 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 found, 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 fits,
Which heav'n shall guard: and put the world's whole

strength
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal Honour from me. This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. [Exit.

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Enter Warwick, Gloucester, and Clarence. K. Henry. WARWICK! Gloucester! Clarence!

Cla. Doth the King call? (Grace? War. What would your Majesty ? how fares your

* That from this golden Rigol ] Rigol or Circle ; meaning the Crown.

Mr. Pope.

K. Henry

N

K. Henry. Why did you leave me here alone, my

lords ? Cla. We left the Prince my brother here, my Liege, Who undertook to fit and watch by you.

K. Henry. The Prince of Wales! where is he? let me see him. War. This door is open, he is gone

this

way. Glou. He came not through the chamber where we

stay'd. K. Henry. Where is the Crown? who took it from

my pillow? War. When we withdrew, my Liege, we left it here. K. Henry: The Prince hath ta'en it hence? go seek

him out. Is he fo hasty, that he doth suppose My sleep my death? find him, my lord of Warwick, And chide him hither straight; this part of his Conjoins with may disease, and helps to end me. See, fons, what things you are ! how quickly nature Falls to revolt, when gold becomes her object ? For this, the foolil over-careful fathers Have broke their sleeps with thought, their brains with

care,
Their bones with industry: for this, engrossed
The canker'd heaps of strange-atchieved gold :
For this, they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts and martial exercises :
When, like the Bee, culling from ev'ry flow'r,
Our thighs are packt with wax, our mouths witla

honey,
We bring it to the hive ; and, like the Bees,
Are murder'd for our pains ! this bitter taste
Yield his engrossments to the dying father.

Enter Warwick.
Now, where is he, that will not stay so long,
'Till his friend, Sickness, hath determin'd me?
War. My lord, I found the Prince in the next room,
I 6

Washing

.

Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That Tyranny, which never quaft but blood,
Would'hy beholding him have walhd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Henry. But wherefore did he take away the

Crown?

Enter Prince Henry. Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry; Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. [Exe. Lords.

Þ. Heury. I never thought to hear you speak again. K. Henry. 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 inveft thee with my Honours, Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth ! 'Thou feek It the Greainefs, that will overwhelm thee. 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 haft stoln That, which, after some few hours, Were thine without offence ; and at my death Thou haft feal'd up my expectation ; Thy life did manifest, thou lov’dft me not ; And thou wilt have me die afsur'd of it. Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, Which thou hast whetted on thy ftony heart, To ftab at half an hour of my frail 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 thy ear That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the tears, that should bedew my herse, Be drops of balm to fan&tify thy head; Only compound me with forgotten dust, Give That, which gave thee life, unto the worms.

Pluck

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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 Councellors, hence;
And to the English Court afsemble now,
From ev'ry region, apes of Idlenefs :
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum ;
Have you a ruffian that will swear ? drink ? dance ?
Revel the night? rob? murder ? and commit
The oldest fins the newest kind of ways ?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
(England shall double gild'his treble Guilt;}
England shall 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 withhold thy riots;
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

[Kneeling.
(The moist impediments unto my speech,)
Ì had fore-stall'd this dear and deep rebuke,
Ere you with grief had spoke, 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 rise,
Which my most true and inward-duteous fpirit
Teacheth ihis proftrate and extērior bending.
Heav'o witness with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your Majesty,
How cold it ftruck my heart! If I do feign,
O let me in my present wildnefs die,
And never live to shew th' incredulous world

The

tears.

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