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Deny it to a king ? Then , happy lowly clown; Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

KESPLARE.

CHA P. X VII. Henry IV. and Prince Henry. P. Henry. I never thought to hear you speak

again. K. Henry. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that

thought. I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. . Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair , That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours, Before thy hour be ripe? U 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 assur'd of it. Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, Which thou hast wetted on thy stony heart, To stab at half an hour of my frail life. What ! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ? Then get thee gone , and dig my grave thy self, 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 ; Henry the Fifth is crown's : up, Vanity!

Down, Royal state ! All you sage counsellors ,

hence ! And to the English court assemble now, From ev'ry region , apes of idleness : : Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum; Have you a ruffian that will swear? drink? dance ? Revel the night? rob? murder ? and commit The oldest sins the newest king of ways ? Be happy, he will trouble you no more: England shall give him office, honour, might: For the Fifth Harry from curbd licence plucks The muzzle of restraint ! and the wild dog Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. O my poor kingdom , sick with civil blows ! When that my care could not with-hold thy riots 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 most impediments unto my speech) I had forestail'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. Heav'n witness with me, when I here came in , And found no course of breath within your Ma

I jesty, How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, O let me in my present wildness die, i And never live to shew th' incredulous world The noble change that I have purpos'd 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 carrat is more precious,
Preserving lise in med'cine portable :
But thou , most fine, most honour'd, most res

nown'd,
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, royal liege ,
Accusing it, I put it on my head,
To try with it (as with an enemy,
That had before my face murderd my father)
The quarrel of a true inheritor.
But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain 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 poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it.

K. Henry. O my son ! ;
Heav'n put it in thy mind to take it hence,
That thou might'st win the more thy father's love.
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe. Heav'n knows, my son,
By what bye-paths, and indirect crook'd ways
I met this crown; and I myself know well,
How troublesome it sat upon my head,
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation :
For all the soil of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'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 assistances ;
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace. All their bold feats,
Thou seest, with peril I have answer'd.
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 sort ;
For thou the garland wear'st successively.
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 ;
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 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 me;
Then plain and right must my possession be;
Which I with more than with a common pain,
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.

SHAKESPEARE.

CILA P. X V II I.
Henry V. to his Soldiers.

HAT's he that wishes for more men from

England ? 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 share of honour. . God's will! I pray thee wish not one man more.

By Jove, I am not covetous of gold;
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
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, methinks, 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 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 Crispian:
He that out-lives this day, and sees old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, Tomorrow 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 sball our names
Familiar in their mouth as household 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 rememberd'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers !
For he to-day who 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, now a-bed,

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