Another Chamber. |
| |
KING HENRY lying on a bed: CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and Others in attendance. |
| K. Hen. 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 the PRINCE. |
| Prince. Who saw the Duke of Clarence? |
| Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness. |
| Prince. How now! rain within doors, and none abroad! |
| How doth the king? |
| Glo. Exceeding ill. |
| Prince. Heard he the good news yet? |
| Tell it him. |
| Glo. He alter'd much upon the hearing it. |
| Prince. 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? |
| Prince. No; I will sit and watch here by the king. [Exeunt all but the PRINCE. |
| Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, |
| 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 |
| 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 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 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 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, [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. [Exit. |
| K. Hen. [Walking.] Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence! |
| |
Re-enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, 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. |
| Glo. 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 |
| Have broke their sleeps 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 |
| Their sons with arts and martial exercises: |
| When, like the bee, culling 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 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 eye-drops. He is coming hither. |
| K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the crown? |
| |
Re-enter the PRINCE. |
| Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry. |
| Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. [Exeunt WARWICK, and the rest. |
| Prince. I never thought to hear you speak again. |
| K. Hen. 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 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 assur'd of it. |
| Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, |
| Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, |
| To stab at half an hour of my life. |
| 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 of your scum: |
| 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. |
| 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. |
| Prince. O! pardon me, my liege; but for my 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 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. |
| God 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 medicine potable: |
| But thou most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd, |
| Hast eat thy bearer up.' Thus, my most royal liege, |
| Accusing it, I put it on my head, |
| To try with it, as with an enemy |
| That had before my face murder'd 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! |
| God put it in thy mind to take it hence, |
| That thou mightst 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. God 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, |
| 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 boisterous 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 these bold fears |
| Thou seest with peril I have answered; |
| 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 more fairer sort; |
| So thou the garment 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 unto 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 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. |
| Prince. 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. |
| |
Enter JOHN OF LANCASTER. |
| K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster. |
| Lanc. Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father! |
| K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John; |
| But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown |
| From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight |
| My worldly business makes a period. |
| Where is my Lord of Warwick? |
| Prince. My Lord of Warwick! |
| |
Re-enter WARWICK and Others. |
| K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong |
| Unto the lodging where I first did swound? |
| War. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord. |
| K. Hen. Laud be to God! even there my life must end. |
| It hath been prophesied to me many years |
| I should not die but in Jerusalem, |
| Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land. |
| But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie: |
| In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [Exeunt. |
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