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; The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, But write her fair words still in foulest letters? She either gives a stomach and no food; I should rejoice now at this happy news; 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. 100 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 121 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, King. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; 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. 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? ΙΟ 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? 20 [Exeunt all except the Prince. Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow? 30 O polish'd perturbation! golden care! |