Page images
PDF
EPUB

Changes the mode ; for what in me was purchas'd,
Falls
upon

thee in a much fairer fort;
For thou the garland wear'ft fucceflively.
Yet though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green ;
And all my 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 ;
Leit reft and lying still might make them look
Too near into 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 former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength 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
Then plain and right muft my poffeffion be;
Which I with more than with a common pain,
'Gainst all the world, will rightfully maintain.

SHAKSPEARL.

me ;

[ocr errors]

СНАР,

C H A P.

XVIII.

HENRY V. TO HIS SOLDIERS.

WHAT's he that wilhes for more men from England ?

[ocr errors]

THAT'S

My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin,
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater ihåre of honour.-
, God's will! I pray thee with not one man more

By Jove, I am not covetous of gold;:
Nor care I who doth feed upon my coft ;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my

defires :
But if it be a fin to covet honour,
I am the most offending foul alive.
No, 'faith, my Lord, with not a man from England:
God's peace ! I would not lose fo great an honourg,
As one man more, would share from me,
For the best hopes. I have. Don't wish one more ::
Rather proclaim it (Westmoreland) through my hoft,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart ; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse :
We would not die in that man's company, -
That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day is call’d the feast of Crispian :
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will'stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crifpian :
He that outlives this day, and sees old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

And say, 'to-morrow is Saint Crispian :
Then will he strip his Neeve, and show his scars.
Old men forget; yet shall not all forget,
But they'll remember, with advantages,
The feats they did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouth as houshold-words,
Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glo'ster,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son :
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered ;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers :
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother ; be he e'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition.
And gentlemen in England in, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here ;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,
That fought with us upon St Crifpian's Day.

SHAKSPEARE.

[blocks in formation]

HENRY VI. WARWICK, AND CARDINAL

BEAUFORT, K, HENRY. LOW fares my Lord ? Speak, Beaufort, to

thy Sovereign. Car. If thou be'st Death, I'll give thee England's trea

fure, Enough to purchase such another island,

So

How

So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

K Henry. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is seen so terrible !

War. Beaufort, it is thy Sovereign speaks to thee.
CAR. Bring me unto my

trial when

you

will..
Dy'd he not in his bed? Where should he die?
Can I make men live whether they will or no ?
Oh, torture me no more, I will confess
Alive again ? Then show me where he is :
l'll give a thousand pound to look upon him
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them:
Comb down his hair ; look! look! it stands upright,
Like lime twigs set to catch my winged soul.
Give me some drink, and bid th'apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

K. Henry. O thou eternal Mover of the heav'ns,
Look with a gentle eye upon

this wretch ;
Oh, bcat away the busy meddling fiend,
That lays strong fiege unto this wretch's foul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair.

-Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be !
Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thine hand, make signal of thy hope.
He dies, and makes no fign! O God, forgive him.

War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

K. HENRY. Forbear to juige, .for we are finners all.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain clofe, .
And let us all to meditation,

SHAXSIEARE.

[blocks in formation]

CHAP. XX.

WOLSEY

AND

CROMWELL.

FAREW

Wol. T'AREWEL, a long farewel to all my greateess.

This is the state of man :'to day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blufhing honours thick upon

him

;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good eafy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his shoot ;
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders,
These many fummers in a sea of glory ;
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride
At length broke under me ; and now has left me,
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye !
I feel my heart new open'd. Oh, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes, favours !
There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin,
More
pangs

and fears than war or women have ;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
Why, how now, Cromwell ?

Crom. I have no power to speak, Sir.

Wol. What, amaz'd
At my misfortunes? Can thy fpirit wonder
A great man should decline ? Nay, if you weep,
I'm fall'n indeed.

CR Ом.

« PreviousContinue »