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When rage and hot blood are his counsellors
When means and lavish manners meet together,
Oh, with what wings shall his affection fly
Tow'rd 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 farther use,
But to be known and hated. So, like grofs 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. Henry. 'Tis seldom, when the Bee doth leave

her comb In the dead carrion.--Who's here? Westmorland !

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Enter Westmorland. Ivet. EALTH to my Sovereign, and new hap

piness Added to That, which I am to deliver ! Prince John, your fon, 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 ev'ry where. The manner how this action hath been borne, Here at more leisure may your Highness read, With every course, in his particular.

K. Henry. 0 Westmorland, thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day.



Enter Harcourt. Look, here's niore news.

Har. From enemies heav'n keep your Majesty
And, when they stand against you, may they fall
As those that I am come to tell you of!
The Earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph,
With a great Pow'r of English and of Scots,
Are by the Sh'riff of Yorkshire overthrown:
The manner and irue order of the fight,
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
K. Henry. And wherefore should thefe good news

make me fick?
Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in fouleft letters ?
She either gives a stomach, and no food;
(Such are the poor, in health) or else a fealt,
And takes away the stomach ; (such the rich,
That have abundance and enjoy it not.)
I should rejoice now at this happy news,
And now my fight fails, and my brain is giddy.
O me, come near me, now I am much ill!

Glou. Comfort your Majesty!
Cla. Oh, my royal father!
Weft. My fovereign lord, chear up yourself, lookup.

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; Th’inceffant 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.

Glou. The people fear me; for they do observe Unfather'd heirs and loathy births 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; * Hath wrought the mure,

.] in 6. the Wall.

Mr. Pope.


And the old folk (time's doting chronicles)
Say, it did so a little time before
That our great Grandfire Edward fick'd and dy'd.

War. Speak lower, Princes, for the King recovers.
Glou. This apoplex will, certain, be his end.
K. Henry. I pray you, take me up, and bear me

Into some other chamber: softly, 'pray.
Let there be no noise made, my genıle friends,
Unless some doleing, favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

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


Enter Prince Henry.

P. Henry. W Hofaw the Duke of Clarence ?

am of hea. viness.

[abroad? P. Henry. How now! rain within doors, and none How doth the King ?

Glou. Exceeding ill.

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

Glou. He alter'd much upon the hearing it.

P. Henry. If he be fick with joy,
He'll recover without phyfic.
War. Not so much noise, my lords ; sweet Prince,

fpeak 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. Henry. No; I will sit, and watch here by the King.

[Exeunt all but P. Henry. I 5


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Why doth the Crown lie there upon the pillow,
Being so troublesome a bed-fellow ?
O polish'd perturbation ! golden care !
That keep'Ät the ports of lumber open wide
To many a watchful night: sleep with it now!
Yet not so found, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow, with homely biggen bound,
Snores out the watch of night." o Majesty!
When thou doft pinch thy bearer, thou doft fic
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not:
Did he fofpite, that light and weightless Down
Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father!
This sleep is found, 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 fits,
Which heav'n shall guard: and put the world's whole

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, [Exit.

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Enter Warwick, Gloucester, and Clarence. K. Henry. WARWICK! Gloucester ! Clarence!

Cla. Doth the King call? Grace? War. What would your Majesty ? how fares your * l'hat from this golden Rigol ] Rigol or Circle ; meaning the

Mr. Pope.

K. Henry.


K. Henry. Why did you leave me here alone, my

lords? Cla. We left the Prince my brother here, my Liege, Who undertook to fit and watch by you.

K. Henry., The Prince of Wales! where is he? let me fee him. War. This door is open, he is

he is gone this way. Glou. He came not through the chamber where we

stay'd. K. Henty. Where is the Crown? who took it from

my pillow? War. When we; withdrew, my Liege, we left it here. K. Henry. The Prince hath ta'en it hence? go seek

him out. Is he so hafty, that he doth suppofe My sleep my death? find him, my lord of Warwick, And chide him hither straight; this part of his Conjoins with my disease, and helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are ! how quickly nature Falls to revolt, when gold becomes her objeæ ? For this, the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleeps with thought, their brains with

Their bones with industry: for this, engrossed
The canker'd heaps of strange-atchieved gold:
For this, they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts and martial exercises :
When, like the Bee, culling from ev'ry flow'r,
Our thighs are packt with wax, our mouths with

We bring it to the hive ; and, like the Bees,
Are murder'd for our pains ! this bitter taste
Yield his engrossments to the dying father.

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,
I 6


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