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He is gracious, if he be observ'd;*
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint;
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well observd:
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth:
But, being moody, give him line and scope;
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working.


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.

O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the portst 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 bigging 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.

How quickly nature falls into revolt,
When gold becomes her object!
For this the foolish over-careful fathers

* Has an attention shown him.
* Gates.

# Cap.

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains

with care,
Their bones with industry;
For this they have engrossed and piled up
The cankerd 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 pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the bive; and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains.

Come hither to me, Harry:-
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

P. llen. I never thought to hear you speak again.
K. Hen. Thy wish was farther, 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 orcrwhelm thce. 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 din. Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours, Were thine without offence; and, at my death, Thou hast seald up my expectation.7 Thy life did manifest, thou lov’dst me not, And thou wilt have me die assured of it. Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts: Whic's 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,

*Taking toll. + Confirmed my opinion.

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 of scum
Have you a ruffian, that wili 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?
U, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!
P. Hen. 0, 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 honor, and as your renown,
Let me ju more from this obrdience rise,
(Winch 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,
0, 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,
Ulher, less fine in carat,* is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable:t
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;

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,

j That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!

K. Hen. O my son! Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence, That thou might'st 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. Heaven knows, my son, By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, I inet 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 soilt 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; * Weight.

+ To be taken. # Spot, dirto

Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears,
Thou see'st, 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:t for what in me was purchas'd,f
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;
So thou the garland 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 thy friends, which thou rust inake thy

Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;
By whose sell working I was first advanc’d.
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be agair displac'd; which to avoid,
I cut them off; and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Lanıl;
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course, to husy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former dạys.
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, gave it

me; Then plain, and right must my possession be: Which 1, with more than with a common pain, 'Gainst all the world will ight sully maintain.

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If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
* Frights.

# State of things. # Purchase, in Shakspeare, frequently means stolen goods.

§ Crown

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