For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in ev'ry innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
When that my care could not withhold thy
riots,

What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!

[Kneeling.

tears, 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 honor, 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 show the 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 honor'd, most re-
nown'd,
[liege,
Hast eat thy bearer up." Thus, my most royal
Accusing it, I put it on my head;
To try with it-as with an enemy
That had before my face murdered 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 God 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. Hen. O my son!

[love,

Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence,
That thou mightst win the more thy father's
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. Heaven knows,
my son,

By what by-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,

And all thy friends, which thou must make Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out,

By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whose pow'r 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
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my
Harry,

[look

Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,

May waste the memory of the former days. More would I, but my lungs are wasted so, That strength of speech is utterly denied me. How I came by the crown, O God, forgive! And grant it may with thee in true peace live! P. Hen. 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.

Reflections on a Crown.

O polish'd 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, As he, whose brow, with homely biggen bound,

Snores out the watch of night. O Majesty ! When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost Like a rich armor worn in heat of day, [sit That scalds with safety.

Gold.

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 pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of strange achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned
English,

Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger; and their gesture sad,
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon [coats,
So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will
The royal captain of this ruin'd band, [behold
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to
tent,

Let him cry-praise and glory on his head!
For forth he goes, and visits all his host;
Bids them good morrow, with a modest smile;
And calls them-brothers, friends, and coun-
Upon his royal face there is no note [trymen.
How dread an army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of color
Unto the weary and all-watched night :
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint,
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty;
That ev'ry wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks;
A largess universal, like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to ev'ry one,
Thawing cold fear.

The Miseries of Royalty.

O hard condition! twin-born with greatness, Subjected to the breath of every fool, Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing!

What infinite heart's-ease must kings neglect, That private men enjoy!

The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world-
No, not all these, thrice gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave;
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful
bread;

Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lacquey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phœbus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse:
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labor, to his grave;
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, [sleep,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with
Hath the fore-hand and 'vantage of a king.
A Description of the miserable State of the
English Army.

Yon island carrions, desp'rate of their bones,
Ill-favor'dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd
host,

And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, With torch-staves in their hands; and the poor jades [hips;

Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and The gum down-roping from their pale dead

eyes,

And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless :

King Henry's Speech before the Battle of

Agincourt.

[sin :

gar's knee,

honor,

[land:

more :

[host, Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my 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 shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,
And say, To-morrow is St. Crispian.
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his

scars,

And say, These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Old men forget; yet shall not all forget,
But they'll remember, with advantages,

names, Familiar in their mouths 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 remembered: We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me, Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition : And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, [here; Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Description of the Duke of York's Death.
He smil'd me in the face, gave me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says, "Dear my lord,
"Commend my service to my sovereign."
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck [lips;
He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me which I would have
stopp'd;

But I had not so much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

The Miseries of War.

A guilty Countenance.

Upon the eye-balls murd'rous tyranny.
Sits, in grim majesty, to fright the world.

Description of a murdered Person.

See how the blood is settled in his face! Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, [less, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodBeing all descended to the laboring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the ene[returneth

my; Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er To blush and beautify the cheek again. But, see, his face is black, and full of blood; His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man : His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling;

His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength sub-
dued.
[ing;
is stick-
Look on the sheets: his hair, you see,
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and
rugged,

Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be but he was murder'd here;
The least of all these signs were probable.

A good Conscience.

What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?

Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just : And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

Remorseless Hatred.

curse them?

words,

;

And so he walks insulting o'er his prey; And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.

Should I not curse them. Poison be their

My sons-God knows what hath bechanced them : [selves But this I know-they have demean'd themLike men born to renown, by life, or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me, And thrice cried, "Courage, father! fight it out !"

And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchion painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encounter'd him :
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried, "Charge! and give no foot of
ground!"

And cried, "A crown, or else a glorious tomb!
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre !"
With this we charg'd again; but out, alas!
We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan
With bootless labor swim against the tide,
And spend her strength with over-matching

waves.

"Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company.
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world!
And where thou art not, desolation.

ite Child.

O tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide' How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child,

To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible;
Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorse-
less.

Parting.

If I depart from thee, I cannot live: And in thy sight to die, what were it else, But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap! Here could I breathe my soul into the air, As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe, Dying with mother's dug between its lips. The Death-bed Horrors of a guilty Conscience. Bring me unto my trial when you will: Died he not in his bed? Where should he die Can I make men live, whether they will or no? O! torture me no more, I will confessAlive again? Then show me where he is; I'll give a thousand pounds to look upon himHe hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,

?

Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul! Give him some drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

§ 24. THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI. SHAKSPEARE.

A hungry Lion. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws;

Would not have touch'd, would not have

stain'd with blood;

But you are more inhuman, more inexorableO, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy,

And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, Upon my soul the hearers will shed tears; Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, And say, "Alas, it was a piteous deed!"

The Duke of York in Battle.

Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop,

As doth a lion in a herd of neat ;
Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs,

Who having pinch'd a few, and made them
The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. [cry,

The Morning.

See how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun' How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love'