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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 ?


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 unsheathed, 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.



Har. From enemies Heaven keep your majesty ; And, when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell The earl 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.

you of!

i The detail contained in prince John's letter.

K. Hen. And wherefore should these good news

make me sick ?
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,
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.

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 labor 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 ob


Unfathered heirs,' and loathly birds of nature.
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leaped them over.

Cla. The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between:
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say, it did so, a little time before
That our great grandsire, Edward, sicked 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.

1 Mure for wall is another of Shakspeare's Latinisms. It was not in frequent use by his contemporaries.

2 That is, equivocal births, monsters.

Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends ;
Unless some dull and favorable 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.


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. Exceeding ill.
P. Hen.

Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.

P. Humph. He altered 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 disposed 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.?

[Exeunt all but P. HENRY.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ?
O polished perturbation ! golden care !
That keeps the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night !--sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,

1 Dull and slow were synonymous. Dullness, slowness; tarditas, tardivete. Somewhat dull or slowe; tardiusculus, tardelet;" says Baret. But Shakspeare uses dulness for drowsiness in the Tempest. And Baret has also this sense :- Slow, dull, asleepe, drousie, astonied, heavie; torpidus.It has always been thought that slow music induces sleep.

2 The hint only of this beautiful scene is taken from Holinshed, p. 541. let me see him. He is not here.

As he, whose brow, with homely biggin' bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armor worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not;
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. My gracious lord !--my father ! -
This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep,
That from this golden rigol ? hath divorced
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, 5

[Putting it on his head. Which Heaven shall guard ; and put the world's whole

Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honor from me. This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.

[Exit. 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?

1 A biggin was a head-band of coarse cloth; so called because such a forehead-cloth was worn by the Beguines, an order of nuns.

2 i. e. circle; probably from the old Italian rigolo, a small wheel.



him out;

War. This door is open; he is gone this way.
P. Humph. He came not through the chamber

where we staid. 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 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 Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with

care, Their bones with industry ; For this they have engrossed and piled up The cankered 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 packed with wax, our mouths with honey, We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees, Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste Yields his engrossments to the ending father.

Re-enter WARWICK.

Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determined me?

War. My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ;
With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow,

1 Accumulations.

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