Lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if 1 were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his La dy's fan. Are there not my father, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, befides the Douglas? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month? and are there not fome of them fet forward already. What a pagan rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you fhall fee now, in very fincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving fuch a dish of skimmed milk with fo honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will fet forward to-night.

SHAKSPEARE.

CHAP. XVI.

HENRY IV.'s SOLILOQUY ON SLEEP.

H

O W many thousands of my pooreft fubjects
Are at this hour afleep! O gentle sleep,
Nature's foft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness !

Why rather, Sleep, lay'ft thou in fmoaky cribs,
Upon uneafy pallets ftretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber S
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,

Under the canopies of coftly state,

And lull'd with founds of fweetest melody?

O thou dull god, why lay'ft thou with the vile
In loathfome beds, and leav'ft the kingly couch
S

A watch

A watch-cafe to a common larum-bell?

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,

Seal up the ship-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 shrouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canft thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repose
To the wet fea-boy in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest and the stillest 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.

F

SHAKSPEARE.

CHAP. XVII.

HENRY IV. AND PRINCE HENRY.

P. HENRY. NEVER thought to hear you fpeak again.

IK. HENRY. Thy with was farher, Harry,

to that thought.

I ftay too long by thee, I weary thee.

Doft 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 feek'ft the greatnefs that will overwhelm 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,

W.ere

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 affur'd of it.
Thou hid't a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
Which thou haft whetted on thy ftony heart,
To ftab at half an hour of my frail life.

What! canft 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 hearfe,
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;
Henry the Fifth is crown'd: up, Vanity!
Down, Royal state! All you sage counsellors, hence!
And to the English court affemble now,

From ev'ry region, apes of idleness :

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your feum;
Have you a ruffian that will fwear? drink? dance?
Revel the night? rob ? murder? and commit
The oldeft fins the newest 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 with-hold thy riot,
S 2

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 your's! If I affect it more,
Than as your honour, and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rife,
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 courfe of breath within your Majefty,
How cold it ftruck my heart! If I do feign,
O let me in my present wildnefs die,
And never live to fhow th' incredulous world
The noble change that I have purpofed.
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,

(And dead almost, my Liege, to think you were)
I fpake unto the crown, as having fenfe,

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

Therefore thou best of gold art worft of gold;

Other lefs fine in carat, is more precious,

Preferying life in med'cine potable :

But thou, moft fine, moft honour'd, most 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 least 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 vaffal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!!
K. HENRY. O my fon!

Heav'n put into thy mind to take it hence,
That thou might'ft win the more thy father's love,
Pleading so wifely in excuse of it.

Come hither, Harry, fit thou by my bed;

And hear, I think, the very latest counfel

That ever I shall 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 atchievement goes
With me into the earth. It feem'd in me
But as an honour snatch'd with boist'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.