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A watch-cafe to a common larum-bell?

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,

Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains,
In cradle of the rude imperious furge;

And in the vifitation of the winds,'

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them.
With deaf'ning clamours in the flipp'ry throuds,
That, with the hurly, Death itself awakes ;
Can't thou, O partial Sleep! give thy repofe.
To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude;
And, in the calmeft and the ftilleft night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then happy lowly clown;
Uneafy lies the head that wears a crown.

SHAKSPEAREIT

CHAP. XVII.

HENRY IV. AND PRINCE HENRY.

P. HEN. I NEVER thought to hear you speak again.

K. HEN. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.. I ftay too long by thee-I weary thee.

honours

Doft thou fo hunger for my empty chair,
That thou wilt needs inveft thee with my
Before thy hour be ripe ? O foolish youth!
Thou feek't the greatnefs that will o'erwhelm 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 ftol'n that, which, after fome few hours,

Were

Were thine without offence; and at my death

Thou haft feal'd up my expectation :

Thy life did manifeft thou lov'dft me not;

And thou wilt have me die affured of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
"Which thou haft whetted on thy ftony heart,
To slab at half an hour of my frail life.
What! canft thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then get you gone, and dig my grave thyself,
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear,
That thou art crown'd, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearfe,
Be drops of balm to fanctify 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 counfellors, hence!
And to the English court affemble now,
From ev'ry region apes of idleness!

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your fcum;
Have you a ruffian that will fwear? drink? dance?
Revel the night? rob? murder? and commit
The oldeft fins the neweft kind of ways?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England fhall 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 riot,

What

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 tears (The moift.impediments unto my speech)

I had foreftall'd this dear and deep rebuke,

Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard
The course of it fo 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 moft true and inward-duteous fpirit
Teacheth this proftrate and exterior bending.
Heav'n 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 wildness die,

And never live to fhew the incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed.
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
(And dead almoft, my Liege, to think you were)
I fpake unto the crown, as having sense,

And thus upbraided it: "The care on thee depending
Hath fed
upon the body of my father,

Therefore thou beft of gold art worst of gold;

Other lefs fine in carrat is more precious,

Preferving life in med'cine potable!

But thou, moft fine, most honour'd, moft renown'd,
Haft eat thy bearer up." Thus, Royal Liege,

Accufing it, I put it on my head,

To try with it (as with an enemy)

That

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 fwell my thoughts to any ftrain of pride,
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine

Did with the leaft affection of a welcome
Give entertainment to the might of it;
Let Heav'n for ever keep it from my head,
And make me as the pooreft vafsal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
K. HENRY. O my fon!

Heav'n put in thy mind to take it hence,

That thou might'ft win the more thy father's love,
Pleading fo wifely in excufe of it.

Come hither, Harry, fit thou by my bed;

And hear, I think, the very latest counsel

That ever I fhall breathe. Heav'n knows, my fon,
By what bye-paths, and indirect crook'd ways
I met this crown; and I myself know well
How troublesome it fat upon my head.
To thee it shall defcend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation :
For all the foil of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me

But as an honour fnatch'd with boift'rous hand,

And I had many living to upbraid

My gain of it by their affiftances;

Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding fuppofed peace. All their bold feats,
Thou feeft, with peril I have answer'd;
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument; and now my death

Changes

Changes the mode; for what in me was purchas'd,
Falls upon thee in a much fairer fort,

For thou the garland wears fucceffively.

Yet though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, fince griefs are green;
And all my friends, which thou muft make thy friends,
Have but their ftings and teeth newly ta'n out;
By whofe fell working I was firft advanc'd,
And by whofe pow'r I well might lodge a fear,
To be again difplac'd: which to avoid

I cut them off; and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land;

Left reft and lying ftill might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy courfe to busy giddy minds

With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May wafte the memory of former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That ftrength of speech is utterly deny'd me.
How I came to the crown, O God, forgive!
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
P. HENRY. My gracious Liege,

You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;
Then plain and right muft my poffeffion be;
Which I, with more than with a common pain,
'Gainft all the world, will rightfully maintain.

SHAKSPEARE,

CHAP.

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