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Did with fhe least affection of a welcome
Let Heav'n for ever keep it from my head,
K. Henry. O my son!
I cut them off, and had a purpose now
To leed out many to the holy land;
Lest rest 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 born 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,
WHAT'S he that wishes for more men from England?
No, 'faith, my Lord, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour,
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 host,
That he which hath no stomach to this sight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse :.
We would not die in that mail'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 Crispian: 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 sleeve, 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 mouths as houshold-words, Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glo'ster, Be iu their flowing cups freshly remember'd. This slory shall the good Man teach his son; And Crispian 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 rae, Shall be my brother; be he e'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here' And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, That fought will) us upon St. Crispian's Day.
HENRY VI. WARWICK AND CARDINAL
K. Henry. HOW fares my Lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy Sovereign.
Car. If thou be'st Death, I'll give thee England's treasure.
Enough to purchase such another island,
K. Henry. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
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:
K- Henry. O thou eternal Mover of the heav'ns,
War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
K. Henry. Forbear to judge, fonwe are siunere all.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close.
WOLSEY AND CROMWELL.
Wol, FAREWEL, a long farewel to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to day. he puts forth The tender leaves of hope ; tomorrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his shoot; And then he fails, as I do. I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders, These many summers 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! J feel my heart new open'd. Oh, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours I There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire toy 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 spirit wonder