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Which ever in the haunch of winter sings

The lifting up of day.

Enter Harcourt.

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 you of!

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.
King. 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.
Glou. Comfort, your majesty!

Clar.

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.

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Stand from him, give him air; he 'll straight be well. Clar. No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs: The incessant care and labour of his mind Hath wrought the mure, that should confine it in,

So thin that life looks through and will break out. Glou. The people fear me; for they do observe

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Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature: The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep and leap'd them over. Clar. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between; And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,

Say it did so a little time before

That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. Glou. This apoplexy will certain be his end. King. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence Into some other chamber: softly, pray.

Scene V.

Another chamber.

130

[Exeunt.

The King lying on a bed: Clarence, Gloucester,
Warwick, and others in attendance.

King. 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.

King. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.

Clar. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Less noise, less noise!

Prince.

Enter Prince Henry.

Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

Clar. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.

Prince. How now! rain within doors, and none abroad!

How doth the king?

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Glou. Exceeding ill.

Prince.

Tell it him.

Heard he the good news yet?

Glou. He alter'd much upon the hearing it.

Prince. If he be sick with joy, he 'll recover without physic.

War. Not so much noise, my lords: sweet prince, speak

low;

The king your father is disposed to sleep.

Clar. 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.

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[Exeunt all except the Prince. Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow?

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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 biggen 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 divorced
So many English kings. Thy due from me
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,

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