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When means and lavish manners meet together, 0, with what wings shall his affections fly Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay!

War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite. The prince but studies his companions, Like a strange tongue : wherein, to gain the language, 'Tis needful, that the most immodest word Be look'd upon, and learn'd; which once attain'd, Your highness knows, comes to no farther use, But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms, The prince will, in the perfectness of time, Cast off his followers, and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure live, By which his grace must mete the lives of others, Turning past evils to advantages. K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her

comb In the dead carrion?. [Enter WESTMORELAND.] Who's

here? Westmoreland ? West. Health to my sovereign, and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver! Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand : Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, Are brought to the correction of your law. There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd, But peace puts forth her olive every where. The manner how this action hath been borne, Here at more leisure may your highness read, With every course in his particular.

K. Hen. 0 Westmoreland! thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day. [Enter HARCOURT.] Look! here's Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty; And, when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell

more news.

2 In the dead carrion.] “As the bee,” says Johnson, “having once placed her comb in a carcase, stays by her honey, so he that has once taken pleasure in bad company, will continue to associate with those that have the art of pleasing him.” This explanation is, perhaps, a little more than was meant by the poet.


of. The earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph, 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. Hen. And wherefore should these good news

make me sick ?
Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters 3?
She either gives a stomach, and no food, -
Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach,—such 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. [Swoons.

P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty!

O my royal father! West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself: look


War. Be patient, princes : you do know, these fits Are with his highness very ordinary. Stand from him, give him air ; he'll straight be well.

Cla. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs. Th' incessant 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*.

3 But write her fair words still in foulest LETTERS ?] So the folio : the quarto gives the line as follows:

“ But wet her fair words still in foulest terms." * So thin, that life looks through, and will break out.] Malone and others have pointed out the following parallel passage in Daniel's “ Civil Wars," 1595, book iïi. st. 116, where that poet is speaking of the illness of Henry IV.

Wearing the wall so thin, that now the mind

Might well look thorough, and his frailty find.” Steevens, referring to this couplet, quotes from some later edition, in which the

P. Humph. The people fear me! for they do

observe Unfather'd heirs, and loathly births of nature: The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them over.

Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between; And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, Say, it did so, a little time before That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.

War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. P. Humph. This apoplexy will, certain, be his end.

K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence Into some other chamber: softly, praye.

[They place the King on a Bed in an inner Su

part of the room.
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

. .
K. I all for the music in the other room.
K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Less noise, less noise!

Enter Prince HENRY.

P. Hen.

Who saw the duke of Clarence? Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness. P. Hen. How now! rain within doors, and none

How doth the king?

P. Humph. Exceeding ill.
P. Hen.

Heard he the good news yet?
Tell it him.

lines were considerably altered. Daniel never reprinted a work out making changes in it. The words in the text, “and will break out," are from the folio.

5 The people fear me ;] 1. e. alarm me, or make me fear. By “unfather'd heirs," in the next line, Johnson understands “ animals that had no animal progenitors."

- softly, pray.) These words were added in the folio.


P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it”.

P. Hen. If he be sick with joy, he will 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. Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the king:

[Exeunt all but Prince HENRY.
Why doth the crown lie there, upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care !
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night, sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow with homely biggin bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. 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 sound 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:


? He alter'd much upon the hearing it.] The quarto erroneously has utter'd for “ alter'd.”

this golden RIGOL-] Rigol ” (perhaps for ringol) means a circle. I know not (observes Steevens) that it is used by any author but Shakespeare, who introduces it likewise in his “ Rape of Lucrece :"

“ About the mourning and congealed face

Of that black blood a watery rigol goes." Here, however, it would seem to be the same as the Welsh rhigol, a trench or furrow. See Owen's Dictionary.

My due from thee is this imperial crown,
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo! here it sits,

[Putting it on his head. Which heaven shall guard; and put the world's whole

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.

[Erit. K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence!

Re-enter WARWICK, and the rest. Cla.

Doth the king call? War. What would your majesty ? How fares your


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

lords? Cla. We left the prince, my brother, here, my liege, Who undertook to sit and watch by you. K. Hen. The prince of Wales? Where is he? let

me see him: He is not here.

War. This door is open ; he is gone this way.
P. Humph. He came not through the chamber where

we stay'd. K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from my

pillow? War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. 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.


9 Lo ! uere it sits,] The quarto has where for “here.” The reading of the folio seems preferable.

| How fares your grace ?] These words are added in the folio : four lines lower it omits “ He is not here,” found in the quarto.

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