By which his Grace muft mete the lives of others,
Turning paft Evils to advantages.

K. Henry. 'Tis fuldom, when the Bee doth leave her Comb In the dead Carrion,

Enter Weftmorland.

Who's here? Westmorland?

Weft. Health to my Soveraign, and new happiness
Added to that, that I am to deliver.

Prince John, your Son, doth kifs your Grace's hand:
Mowbray, the Bishop, Scroop, Haftings, and all,
Are brought to the Correction of your Law;
There is not now a Rebel's Sword unfheath'd,
But Peace puts forth her Olive every where:
The manner how this Action hath been born,
Here, at more leifure, may your Highness read,
With every courfe, in his particular.

K. Henry. O Westmorland, thou art a Summer Bird,
Which ever, in the haunch of Winter, fings
The lifting up of day.

Enter Harecourt.

Look, here's more News.

Hare. From Enemies Heav'n keep your Majefty:
And when they ftand against you, may they fall,
As thofe that I am come to tell you of.

The Earl of Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolf,
With a great Power of English, and of Scots,
Are by the Sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown:
The manner, and true order of the fight,
This Packet, please it you, contains at large.

K. Henry. And wherefore fhould thefe good News
Make me fick?

Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words ftill in fouleft Letters?
She either gives a Stomach, and no Food,
Such are the Poor, in health; or elfe a Feaft,
And takes away the Stomach; fuch are the Rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

I should rejoice now at this happy News,
And now my Sight fails, and my Brain is giddy.
O me, come near me, now I am much ill.
Glo. Comfort your Majesty.

Cla.

Cla. Oh, my Royal Father.

Weft. My Soveraign Lord, chear up your felf, look up. War. Be patient, Princes; you do know, these Fits Are with his Highnefs very ordinary.

Stand from him, give him Air:

He'll ftraight be well.

Cla. No no, he cannot long hold out; thefe Pangs,
Th'inceffant care, and labour of his Mind,

Hath wrought the Mure, that should confine it in,
So thin, that Life looks through, and will break out.
Glo. The People fear me; for they do obferve
Unfather'd Heirs, and loathly Births of Nature:
The Seafons change their manners, as the Year
Had found fome Months afleep, and leap'd them over
Cla. The River hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between;
And the old folk, Time's doating Chronicles,
Say it did fo, a little time before

That our Grand-fire Edward fick'd, and dy'd.
War. Speak lower, Princes, for the King recovers.
Glo. This Apoplexy will, certain, be his end.
K. Henry. I pray you take me up, and bear me hence
Into fome other Chamber: foftly, 'pray.

Let there be no noife made, my gentle Friends,
Unless fome dull and favourable hand

Will whisper Mufick to my weary Spiri'.

War. Call for the Mufick in the other Room.
K. Henry. Set me the Crown upon my Pillow here.
Cla. His Eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Lefs noife, lefs noife.

Enter Prince Henry.

P. Henry. Who faw the Duke of Clarence?
Cla. I am here, Brother, full of heaviness.

P. Henry. How now; Rain within doors, and none abroad? How doth the King?

Glo. Exceeding ill.

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

Glo. He alter'd much, upon the hearing it.
P. Henry. If he be fick with Joy,

He'll recover without Phyfick.

U 3

War.

War. Not fo much noife, my Lords,

Sweet Prince, fpeak low.

The King, your Father, is difpos'd to fleep.

Cla. Let us withdraw into the other Room.
War. Wil't please your Grace to go along with us?

P. Henry. No; I will fit, and watch here by the King.
Why doth the Crown lye there, upon his Pillow, [Exeunt all
Being fo troublesome a Bed-fellow?
but P. Henry.

O polifh'd Perturbation ! Golden Care!
That keep'ft the Ports of flumber open wide
To many a watchful Night: Sleep with it now,
Yet not fo found, and half fo deeply fweet,
As he whofe Brow, with homely Biggen bound,
Snores out the Watch of Night. O Majefty!
When thou doft pinch thy Bearer, thou do'ft fit
Like a rich Armor, worn in heat of day,

That fcald'ft with fafety; by his Gates of breath,
There lyes a downy Feather, which ftirs not:
Did he fufpire, that light and weightless Down
Perforce muft move. My gracious Lord! my Father!
This fleep is found indeed; this is a fleep,
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 it felf to me. Lo, here it fits,
Which Heav'n fhall guard:

And put the World's whole ftrength
Into one Gyant Arm, it shall not force

This Lineal Honour from me. This, from thee,

Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.

Enter Warwick, Gloucefter, and Clarence.

K. Henry. Warwick! Gloucefter! Clarence!

Cla. Doth the King call?

[Exit.

Weft. What would your Majefty? how fares your Grace? 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.

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

Glo. He came not through the Chamber where we ftaid.
K. Henry. Where is the Crown? who took it from my
Pillow?

War. When we with-drew, my Lige, we left it here.
K. Henry. The Prince hath ta'en it hence:

Go feek him out.

Is he fo hafty, that he doth suppose

My fleep, my death? Find him, my Lord of Warwick,
Chide him hither; 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 Obje&?
For this, the foolish over-careful Fathers
Have broke their fleeps with thought,

Their brains with care, their bones with induftry.
For this, they have engroffed and pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of ftrange-atchiev'd Gold:
For this, they have been thoughtful to invest
Their Sons with Art, and Martial Exercises:
When, like the Bee, culling from every Flower
The virtuous Sweets, our Thighs packt with Wax,
Our Mouths with Honey, we bring it to the Hive;
And like the Bees, are murthered for our pains.
This bittter tafte yield his Engrofsments

To the ending Father.

Enter Warwick.

Now where is he, that will not stay fo long,
Till his friend's fickness hath determin'd me?

War. My Lord, I found the Prince in the next Rcom,
Washing with kindly Tears his gentle Checks,
With fuch a deep demeanour, in great Sorrow,
That Tyranny, which never quaffe but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd 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.

U 4

[Exit. P. Henry.

P. Henry. I never thought to hear you speak again. K. Heary. Thy wifh was Father, Harry, to that thought I ftay too long by thee, I weary thee.

Do'st 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 seek'ft the Greatnefs, that will over-whelm 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 ftoln that, which after fome few hours
Were thine, without offence; and at my death.
Thou haft feal'd up my Expectation,

Thy life did manifeft, thou lov'dft me nor,
And thou wilt have me die affur'd of it.
Thou hid'ft a thoufand Daggers in thy thoughts,
Which thou haft whetted on thy ftony heart,
To ftab at half an hour of my frail life.
What! can't thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then get thee gone, and dig my Grave thy felf,
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 Herfe,
Be drops of Balm, to fanctifie 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 to the English Court, affemble now
From ev'ry Region, Apes of idlenef.

Now Neighbour Confines, purge you of

your

Scum:

Have you a Ruffian that will fwear? dink? dance?
Revel the night? rob? murder? and commit
The oldeft fins, the neweft kinds of ways?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England fhall double gild his trebble gilt.
England fhall give him Office, Honour, Might:
For the Fifth Harry, from curb'd Licence plucks
The muzzle of Reftraint, and the wild. Dog

Shall