That may repeat and history his loss

In England the most valiant gentleman;
Who knows, on whom fortune would then have smil'd? To new remembrance: for full well he knows,

But if your father had been victor there,
He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry:
For all the country, in a general voice,
Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers, and love,
Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And bless'd, and grac'd indeed, more than the king.
But this is mere digression from my purpose.
Here come I from our princely general,

To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace,
That he will give you audience: and wherein
It shall appear, that your demands are just,
You shall enjoy them; every thing set off,
That might so much as think you enemies.
Mowb. But he hath forc'd us to compel this offer;
And it proceeds from policy, not love.

West. Mowbray, you overween, to take it so;
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear:
For, lo! within a ken our army lies;
Upon mine honour, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
Our battle is more full of names than yours,
Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best;
Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good:-
Say you not then, our offer is compell'd.

He cannot so precisely weed this land,
As his misdoubts present occasion:
His foes are so enrooted with his friends,
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend.
So that this land, like an offensive wife,
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm,
That was uprear'd to execution.

Mowb. Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley.
West. That argues but the shame of your offence:
A rotten case abides no handling.

Hast. Hath the prince John a full commission,
In very ample virtue of his father,

To hear, and absolutely to determine
Of what conditions we shall stand upon?

West. That is intended in the general's name :
I muse, you make so slight a question.

Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods
On late offenders, that he now doth lack
The very instruments of chastisement:
So that his power, like to a fangless lion,
May offer, but not hold.

Arch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this
schedule;

For this contains our general grievances:-
Each several article herein redress'd;

Arch. 'Tis very true;

And therefore be assur'd, my good lord marshal,
If we do now make our atonement well,
Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
Grow stronger for the breaking.

Mowb. Be it so.

Here is return'd my lord of Westmoreland.
Re-enter WESTMORELAND.

All members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are insinew'd to this action,
Acquitted by a true substantial form;
And present execution of our wills
To us, and to our purposes, consign'd;
We come within our awful banks again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
West. This will I show the general. Please you, lords,
In sight of both our battles we may meet:
And either end in peace, which heaven so frame!
Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.

West. The prince is here at hand: pleaseth your lordship,

To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies? Mowb. Your grace of York, in God's name then set forward.

Arch. Before, and greet his grace;

come.

my lord, we [Exeunt.

P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my cousin
Mowbray:
Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop;-
And so to you, lord Hastings, and to all. -
My lord of York, it better show'd with you,
When that your flock, assembled by the bell,
Encircled you, to hear with reverence
Your exposition on the holy text;
Than now to see you here an iron man,
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to sword, and life to death.
That man, that sits within a monarch's heart,
And ripens in the sunshine of his favour,
Would he abuse the countenance of the king,
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach,
In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop,
It is even so:- who hath not heard it spoken,
How deep you were within the books of God?
To us, the speaker in his parliament;
To us, the imagin'd voice of God himself;
The very opener, and intelligencer,
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven,
And our dull workings: O, who shall believe,
But you misuse the reverence of your place;
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,
As a false favourite doth his prince's name,
In deeds dishonourable? You have taken up,
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
The subjects of his substitute, my father:
And, both against the peace of heaven and him,
Have here up-swarm'd them.

Arch. My lord, we will do so.[ExitWestermoreland.
Mowb. There is a thing within my bosom, tells me,
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make our peace
Upon such large terms, and so absolute,
As our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm, as rocky mountains.
Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such,
That every slight and false-derived cause,
Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason,
Shall, to the king, taste of this action:
That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love,
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind,
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,
And good from bad find no partition.
Arch. No, no, my lord; note this,—the king is weary
Of dainty and such picking grievances:
For he hath found, to end one doubt by death,
- Revives two greater in the heirs of life.
And therefore will he wipe his tables clean;
And keep no tell-tale to his memory,

Arch. Good my lord of Lancaster,

I am not here against your father's peace,
But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland,
The time misorder'd doth, in common sense,

1

1

Π

Croud us, and crush us, to this monstrous form,
To hold our safety up. I sent your grace
The parcels and particulars of our grief;
The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the court,
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born:
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep,
With grant of our most just and right desires;
And true obedience, of this madness cur'd,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
To the last man.

Hast. And though we here fall down,
We have supplies to second our attempt;
If they miscarry, theirs shall second them;
And so success of mischief shall be born;
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up,
Whiles England shall have generation.

P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much too
shallow,

To sound the bottom of the after-times.

West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them directly,
How far-forth you do like their articles?

P. Iohn. I like them all, and do allow them well:
And swear here, by the honour of my blood,
My father's purposes have been mistook;
And some about him have too lavishly
Wrested his meaning and authority. —
My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
Upon my soul they shall. If this may please you,
Discharge your powers into their several counties,
As we will our and here, between the armies,
Let's drink together friendly, and embrace;
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home,
Of our restored love, and amity.

Arch. I take your princely word for these redresses.
P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my word:
And thereupon I drink unto your grace.

Hast. Go, captain, [To an Officer.] and deliver to

the army

This news of peace; let them have pay, and part:
I know, it will well please them; hie thee, captain!
[Exit Officer.
Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland!
West. I pledge your grace: and, if you knew what
pains

I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace,
You would drink freely: but my love to you
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
Arch. I do not doubt you.

West. I am glad of it.

Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray!
Mowb. You wish me health in very happy season;
For I am, ou the sudden, something ill.

Arch. Against ill chances, men are ever merry;
But heaviness foreruns the good event.
West. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow
Serves to say thus, Some good thing comes to-

Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already :
Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses
East, west, north, south: or, like a school broke up,
Each hurries toward his home, and sporting-place.
West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings; for the which
I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:
And you, lord archbishop,- and you, lord Mowbray,
Of capital treason I attach you both.
Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable?
West. Is your assembly so?

Arch. Will you thus break your faith?

P. John. pawn'd thee none:

I promis'd you redress of these same grievances,
Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,
I will perform with a most christian care.
But, for you, rebels, - look to taste the due
Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours.
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray;
Heaven, and not we, have safely fought to-day.-
Some guard these traitors to the block of death;
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. - Another part of the forest. Alarums. Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF, and COLEVILE, meeting.

Fal. What's your name, sir? of what condition are you; and of what place, I pray? Cole. I am a knight, sir; and my name is Colevile of the dale.

Fal. Well then, Colevile is your name; a knight is your degree; and your place, the dale: Colevile shall still be your name; a traitor your degree; and the dungcon your place, -a place deep enough; so shall you still be Colevile of the dale.

Cole. Are not you sir John Falstaff?

Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do ye yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death: therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.

Cole. I think, you are sir John Falstaff; and, in that thought, yield me.

Fal. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe: My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me. — - Here comes our general.

Enter Prince JOHN of LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND,
and Others.

P. John. The heat is past, follow no further now:
Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.
[Exit Westmoreland.
Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
When every thing is ended, then you come:
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
One time or other break some gallows' back."
Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus ;
I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was the reward
of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a

[ACT IV. oullet? Have I, in my poor and old motion, the expe-white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity dition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very and cowardice; but the sherris warms it, and makes it extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered nine course from the inwards to the parts extreme. It illuscore and odd posts: and here, travel-tainted as I am, mineth the face; which, as a beacon, gives warning to have,in my pure and immaculate valour, taken sir John all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm: and Colevile of the dale, a most furious knight, and valo- then the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits, rous enemy. But what of that? he saw me, and yield-muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great, ed; that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, I came, saw, and overcame.

P. John. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack; for that sets it a-work and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a Ful. I know not; here he is, and here I yield him: and devil; till sack commences it, and sets it in act and use. I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the rest of Hereof comes it, that prince Harry is valiant; for the this day's deeds; or, by the lord, I will have it in a par-cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he ticular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top of hath, like lean, steril, and bare land, manured, hus it, Colevile kissing my foot. To the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt two-pences to me; and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins' heads to her; believe not the word of the noble: therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.

P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount.
Fal. Let it shine then.

P. John, Thine's too thick to shine.

banded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour of drink-
ing good, and good store of fertile sherris; that he is
become very hot, and valiant. IfI had a thousand sons,
the first human principle I would teach them, should
be,- to forswear thin potations, and addict themsel-
ves to sack.
Enter BARDolph.

How now, Bardolph?

Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone.
Fal. Let them go. I'll through Glostershire; and

Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that may there will I visit master Robert Shallow, esquire: I

do me good, and call it what you will.

P. John. Is thy name Colevile?

Cole. It is, my lord.

P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.
Fal. And a famous true subject took him.
Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are,
That led me hither: had they been rul'd by me,
You should have won them dearer than you have.
Fal. I know not how they sold themselves; but thou,
like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away, and I thank
thee for thee.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND.

P. John. Now, have you left pursuit?
West. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd.
P. John. Send Colevile, with his confederates,
To York, to present execution:-
Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure.
[Exeunt some with Colevile.
And now despatch we toward the court, my lords;
I hear, the king my father is sore sick:
Our news shall go before us to his majesty,
Which, cousin, you shall bear, to comfort him;
And we with sober speed will follow you.

have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away!

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

Westminster. A room in the palace.
Enter King HENRY, CLARENCE, Prince HUMPHREY,
WARWICK, and Others.

K.Hen. Now,lords,if heaven doth give successful end
To this debate, that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
And every thing lies level to our wish:
Only, we want a little personal strength;
And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
Come underneath the yoke of government.
War. Both which, we doubt not but your majesty
Shall soon enjoy.

K. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster,
Where is the prince your brother?
P. Humph. I think, he's gone to hunt, my lord, at

Windsor.

K. Hen. And how accompanied?
P. Humph. I do not know, my lord.
K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence,
with him?

P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in presence here.
Cla. What would my lord and father?
K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Cla-

rence.

Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go
through Glostershire: and, when you come to court,
stand my good lord, 'pray, in your good report,
P. John. Fare you well, Falstaff! I, in my condition,
Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Exit.
Fal. I would, you had but the wit; 'twere better than
your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-
blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make
him laugh; but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. How chance, thou art not with the prince thy brother?
There's never any of these demure boys come to any He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
proof: for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, Thou hast a better place in his affection,
and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy;
of male green-sickness; and then, when they marry, And noble offices thou may'st_effect
they get wenches: they are generally fools and co- Of mediation, after I am dead,
wards; which some of us should be too, but for in-Between his greatness and thy other brethren:
flammation. A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold ope- Therefore, omit him not; blunt not his love:
ration in it. It ascends me into the brain; dries me Nor lose the good advantage of his grace,
there all the foolish, and dull, and crudy vapours, By seeming cold, or careless of his will.
which environ it: makes it apprehensive, quick, for-For he is gracious, if he be observ'd;
getive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
which deliver'd o'er to the voice, (the tongue,) which Open as day for melting charity:

is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second pro-Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint;
perty of your excellent sherris is, the warming of As humorous as winter, and as sudden
the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver As flaws congealed in the spring of day.

--

H

B

His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd:
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth :
But, being moody, give him line and scope;
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working. Learn this,

mas,

And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends;
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in;
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion,

(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,)
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum, or rash gunpowder.

375

Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food, —
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach, such are the rich,
Tho-That have abundance, and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy:
O me! come near me, now I am much ill. [Swoons.
P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty!

Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love.
K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him,
Thomas?

Cla. He is not there to-day: he dines in London.
K. Hen. And how accompanied? can'st thou tell that?
Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers.
K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;
And he, the noble image of my youth,
Is overspread with them. Therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death;
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape,
In forms imaginary, the unguided days,
And rotten times, that you shall look upon
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay!
War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite:
The prince but studies his companions,
Like a strange tongue: wherein, to gain the language,
"Tis needful, that the most immodest word

Be look'd upon, and learn'd: which once attain'd,
Your highness knows, comes to no further use,
But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms,
The prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers: and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,

By which his grace must mete the lives of others;
Turning past evils to advantages.

K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her
comb

In the dead carrion. - Who's here? Westmoreland?
Enter WESTMORELAND,

West. Health to my sovereign! and new happiness
Added to that, that I am to deliver!
Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand:
Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all,
Are brought to the correction of your law;
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd,
But peace puts forth her olive every where.
The manner how this action hath been borne,
Here at more leisure may your highness read,
With every course, in his particular.

K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day. Look! here's more news.
Enter HARCOURT.

Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty;
And, when they stand against you, may they fall
As those that I am come to tell you of!
The earl of Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph,
With a great power of English, and of Scots,
Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown:
The manner and true order of the fight,
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
K. Hen. And wherefore should these good news

make me sick?

Cla. O my royal father!

West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up!
War. Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits
Are with his highness very ordinary.

Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well.
Cla. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs;
The incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the mure, that should confine it in,
So thin, that life looks through, and will break out.
P. Humph. The people fear me; for they do observe
Unfather'd heirs, and loathly birds of nature:
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them over.
Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between:
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say, it did so, a little time before

That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died,
War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.
P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end.
K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber: softly, 'pray.

[They convey the King into an inner part of
the room, and place him on a bed.
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends:
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

War. Call for the music in the other room.
K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Less noise, less noise.

Enter Prince HENRY.

P. Hen. Who saw the duke of Clarence?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
P. Hen. How now! rain within doors, and none
abroad!
How doth the king?

P. Humph. Exceedingly ill.

P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet?
Tell it him.

P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it.
P. Hen. If he be sick

With joy, he will recover without physic.
War. Not so much noise, my lords: — sweet prince,
speak low;

The king your father is dispos'd to sleep.
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will't please your grace to go along with us?
P. Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the king.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
[Exeunt all but P. Henry.
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night! sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound,
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour, worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not:
Perforce must move.-My gracious lord! my father!-

This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep,
That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd
So many English kings. Thy due, from me,
Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood;
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
My due, from thee, is this imperial crown;
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,

Acc

I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair,
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours,
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.
Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and at my death,
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation:
Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts;
[Exit. Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
To stab at half an hour of my life.

[Putting it on his head. Which heaven shall guard. And put the world's whole strength

Into one giant arm, it shall not force

This lineal honour from me: this from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.
K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence:

Re-enter WARWICK, and the rest.
Cla. Doth the king call?
War. What would your majesty? How fares your
grace?

K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my liege,
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.

K. Hen. The prince of Wales? Where is he? let me see him:

He is not here.

War. This door is open; he is gone this way.
P. Humph. He came not through the chamber where
we stay'd.

K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from my
pillow?

War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence: -go, seek him out.

-

-

Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose
My sleep my death?
Find him, my lord of Warwick: chide him hither.
[Exit Warwick.
This part of his conjoins with my disease,
And helps to end me.-See, sons, what things you are!
How quickly nature falls into revolt,
When gold becomes her object!

For this, the foolish over-careful fathers

What! canst 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 hearse,
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,
Harry the fifth is crown'd:-
- up, vanity!
Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence!
And to the English court assemble now,
From every region, apes of idleness!
Now, neighbour confines, purge you
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night; rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England shall double gild his treble guilt:
England shall 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 in every innocent.

of

your scum:

O my poor kingdom, sick with eivil blows!
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care?

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,

with care,

Their bones with industry:

For this, they have engrossed and pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of strange achieved gold;
For this, they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises:
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets,

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
Yield his engrossments to the ending father..
Re-enter WARWICK,

Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?
War. My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle ege-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the crown?
Re-enter Prince HENRY.

Lo, where he comes. - Come hither to me, Harry:
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
[Exeunt Clarence, Prince Humphrey,
Lords, etc.

Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!
P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears,
[Kneeling.

P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again.
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:

The moist impediments unto my speech,
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,
Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard
The course of it so 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 most true and inward-duteous spirit
Teacheth,) this prostrate and exterior bending!
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your majesty,
How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,
O, let me in my present wildness die;
And never live to shew incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed!
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
(And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,)
I spake 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, best of gold, art worst of gold.

Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable:
But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal liege,