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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 sleeps with thoughts,
Their brains with care, their bones with industry:
For this they have engrossed and pild 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 from every flower
The virtuous sweets?,
Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with 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 ending father.-
Now, where is he that will not stay so long,
Till his friend sickness' hands determin'd me??
War. My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
With such a deep demeanour 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 crown?
Lo, where he comes.—Come hither to me, Harry.
TOLLING from every flower The virtuous sweets ;] The folio has culling for “tolling,” by which the image of the bee taking toll from each flower is lost. The words “ The vir
are from the folio. 3 Till his friend sickness' HANDS determined me?] i. e. “ Until the hands of his friend, sickness, ended me.” The folio poorly substitutes hath for “hands," and injures the personification. All the modern editors follow the misreading of the folio, and take no notice of the variation in the text. VOL. IV.
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
[Ercunt CLARENCE, Prince IIUMPHREY, Lords, &c. P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again.
ki Hen. Thy wish was father, Ilarry, to that thought: I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair, That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth ! Thou seek'st the greatness 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 hast stol'n 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 lov’dst me not, And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it. Thou bid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, To stab at half an hour of my 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. Ilarry 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, 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 sins 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 in every innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick 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. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears,
The moist impediments unto my speech,
I had forestall'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 spirit
Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending.
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your majesty,
How cold it struck my heart! if I do feign,
O! let me in my present wildness die,
And never live to show th' incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed.
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,
I spake unto the crown, as having sense,
And thus upbraided it: “The care on thee depending,
Ilath fed upon the body of my father;
Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of gold.
Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in medicine potable :
But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd,
Hlast eat thy bearer up.” Thus, my most royal liege,
Accusing it, I put it on my head;
To try with it, as with an enemy
That had before my face murder'd my father,
The quarrel of a true inheritor :
But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride;
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine
Did, with the least affection of a welcome,
Give entertainment to the might of it,
Let God for ever keep it from my head,
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
K. Hen. O my son!
God put it in thy mind' to take it hence,
That thou might’st win the more thy father's love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.
Come hither, Harry; sit thou by my bed,
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways,
I met this crown; and I myself know well
How troublesome it sat upon my head :
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation;
For all the soil of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me,
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand,
And I had many living to upbraid
My gain of it by their assistances ;
Which daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears,
Thou seest, with peril I have answered ;
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument, and now my death
Changes the mode : for what in me was purchas'd',
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;
So, thou the garland wear’st successively.
Yet, though thou stand’st more sure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough ; since griefs are green,
And all thy friends, which thou must make thy friends,
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;
By whose fell working I was first advanc’d,
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be again displac'd. Which to avoid,
I cut them off; and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land,
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course to busy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive,
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
P. Hen. My gracious liege',
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;