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dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation 170 was gained and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He let him outlive that day to see His greatness, and to teach others how they should prepare.

WILL. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his 175 own head: the king is not to answer it.

BATES. I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.

K. HEN. I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed.

WILL. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully: but when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, and we ne'er the wiser.

K. HEN. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word

after.

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WILL. You pay him then. That's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and private displeasure can do against a monarch! you may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never trust his word after! come, 'tis a foolish saying. 190 K. HEN. Your reproof is something too round: I should angry with you, if the time were convenient.

be

WILL. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.

K. HEN. I embrace it.

WILL. How shall I know thee again?

K. HEN. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.

WILL. Here's my glove: give me another of thine.
K. HEN. There.

WILL. This will I also wear in my cap: if ever thou come to me and say, after to-morrow, "This is my glove," by this hand, I will take thee a box on the ear.

K. HEN. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.

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WILL. Thou darest as well be hanged.

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K. HEN. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the

king's company.

WILL. Keep thy word: fare thee well.

BATES. Be friends, you English fools, be friends: we have French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

K. HEN. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French.
crowns to one, they will beat us; for they bear them on
their shoulders: but it is no English treason to cut French
crowns, and to-morrow the king himself will be a clipper.
[Exeunt Soldiers.

Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives,

Our children and our sins lay on the king!
We must bear all. O hard condition,

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Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
But his own wringing! What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy !

220

And what have kings, that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?

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What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more

Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!

What is thy soul of adoration?

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Art thou ought else but place, degree and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd

Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,

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But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,

And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!

Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out

With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?

240

Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,

That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;

I am a king that find thee, and I know
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The intertissu'd robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,

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Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,

Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind

Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;

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Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;

But, like a lackey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phœbus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,
And follows so the ever-running year,

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With profitable labour, to his grave:

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,

Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,

Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

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The slave, a member of the country's peace,

Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots

What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

Enter ERPINGHAM.

ERP. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,

270

Seek through your camp to find you.

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K. HEN. O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if th' opposed numbers

Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, O Lord,
O, not to-day, think not upon the fault

My father made in compassing the crown!

I Richard's body have interrèd new ;
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears
Than from it issued forced drops of blood :
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do ;
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.

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Re-enter GLOUCESTER.

GLOU. My liege!

K. HEN.

My brother Gloucester's voice? Aye;

I know thy errand, I will go with thee:

The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The French Camp.

Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES and others.

ORL. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!
DAU. Montez à cheval! My horse! varlet! laquais! ha!
ORL. O brave spirit!

DAU. Via! les eaux et la terre!

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