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And to the English court assemble 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 shall give him office, honour, might;
For the Fifth Harry from curb'd license 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 wilt thou do when riot is thy care?

Oh, 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)

1 had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,

Ere you with grief had fpoke, 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 rife,
Which my moft true and inward duteous fpirit
Teacheth this proftrate and exterior bending.
Heav'n witnefs 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 prefent wildness die,

And never live to fhow th' incredulous world The noble change that I have purposed! 'Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,

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(And dead almoft, my Liege, to think you were,)

I fpake

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 beft of gold art worft of gold;
Other, lefs fine in carat, is more precious,

Preferving life in med'cine potable;

But thou, most fine, most 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 had before my face murder'd my father)
The quarrel of a true inheritor.

But if it did affect 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 terrour kneel to it!
K. HENRY. O my fon!

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

That thou might'ft win the more thy father's love,
Pleading fo 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 by-paths and indirect crooked 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 feem'd in me

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

And

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 anfwered.
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 much fairer fort:

For thou the garland wear'ft fucceffively.

Yet though thou ftand'ft more fure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, fince griefs are green;
And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends
Have but their ftings and teeth newly tak'n out;
By whofe fell working I was firft advanc'd,
And by whofe power 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 night make them look
Too near into my ftate.

Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy courfe to bufy giddy minds

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With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May wafte the memory of former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wafted fo,
'That ftrength of fpeech is utterly denied me.
How I came by 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.

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CHAP. XVIII.

HENRY V TO HIS SOLDIERS.

WHAT'S he that wishes for more men from England è
My coufin Westmoreland? No, my fair coufin,

If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

To do our country lofs; and if to live,

thee wish not one man more.

The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray
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
"But if it be a fin to covet honour,

I am the most offending foul alive.

defires:

No 'faith, my lord, with not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lofe fo great an honour,
As one man more, methinks, would fhare from me,
For the best hopes I have. Don't with one more:
Rather proclaim it (Weftmoreland) through my hoft,
That he which hath no ftomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his paffport fhall 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 feaft of Crifpian:
He that outlives this day, and comes fafe home,
Will stand a tiptoe when this day is nam'd,
And roufe him at the name of Crifpian :
He that outlives this day, and fees old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And fay, Tomorrow is Saint Crifpian :
Then will he ftrip his fleeve, and show his fears.
Old men forget; yet fhall not all forget,

But

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But they'll remember, with advantages,

The feats they did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household-words,
Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Sal'fbury and Glo'fter,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his fon:
And Crifpin Crifpian fhall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it fhall 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 fo vile,
This day fhall, gentle his condition.

And gentlemen in England, now abed,

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here:
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,
That fought with us upon St. Crifpin's Day.

CHAP. XIX.

SHAKSPEARE

HENRY VI, WARWICK, AND CARDINAL

BEAUFORT.

K. HEN. How fares my Lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy Sovereign.

CAR. If thou be'ft Death, I'll give thee England's treasure,

Enough to purchase such another Island,

So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.
K. HEN. Ah, what a fign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is feen fo terrible!

WAR. Beaufort, it is thy Sovereign fpeaks to thee.
CAR. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? Where fhould he die?

Can

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