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Hotspur reading a letter.
Bur for mine own part, my Lord, I
66 could be well contented to be there in res.

pect of the love I bear your house.” He could be contended to be there ; why is he not then? “ I respect of the love he bears our house!” He shows in this, he loves his owu barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. " The purpose you undertake is dangerous. Why , that is certain : it is dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink : but I tell you , my Lord fool, out of this nettle danger we pluck this flower safely. "The purpose you ** undertake is dangerous, the friends you have “ named imcertain, the time itself unsorted, " and your whole plot too light for the counter“ poise of so great an opposition.” Say you so ! say you so ! I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this ! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid, our friends true and constant : a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation : an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited: rogue this is ? Why, my Lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal , I could brain him with his Lady's fan. Are there not my father, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, nry Lord of York, and Owen Glendower ? Is there not, besides the Lord Douglas ? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month? and are there not some of them set forward already ?

What a Pagan rascal is this ! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets , for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will set forward to-night...



Henry IV's Soliloquy on Sleep. How many thousands of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down, And steep ny senses in forgetfulness ! Why rather, Sleep, lay'st thou in smoaky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumberg Than in the perfum'd chambers of the Great, Under the canopies of costly state , And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody ? O thou dull God, why lay'st thou with the vile In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch A watch-case to a common laurum-bell? Wilt thou , upon the high and giddy mast, Seal up the spip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains, In cradle of the rude imperious snrge ; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging theme With deaľning clamours in the slipp'ry shrouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes : Canst thou , O partial Sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And, in the calmest and stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot,

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


C Η Α Ρ. Χ ν Ι Ι.

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 huvger 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


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 That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the tears that should bedew 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 oficers, break my decrees , For now a time is come to mock at form

; Henry the Fifth is crown'd : up, Vanity!


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my hearse

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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 niore: 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 on every innocent. O my poor kingdom , sick with civil blows ! When that my care could not with-hold thy riot, 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 forestalı'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


Mas jesty, How cold it struck my heart ! If I do feign, O let me in my present wildness die , 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 we

were) I spake unto the crown, as having sense, And thus upbraided jt. The care on thee depending

me as the

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 life in med'cine portable :
But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most rea

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 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 Hear'n for ever keep it from my head ,
And make


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 loves Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ; And lear, I think, the very latest counsel That ever I shall breathe. Heav'n knows, my son, By what bye-paths, and indirect erook'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

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