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.
GLOUCESTER Comfort, your majesty!
CLARENCE O my royal father!
WESTMORLAND My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.
WARWICK Be patient, princes. You do know these fits
Are with his highness very ordinary.
Stand from him. Give him air. He'll straight be well.
CLARENCE No, no, he cannot long hold out: these pangs,
Th'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.
GLOUCESTER The people fear me, for they do observe
Unfathered heirs and loathly births of nature:
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep and leaped them over.
CLARENCE The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between,
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say it did so a little time before
That our great-grandsire, Edward, sicked and died.
WARWICK Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.
GLOUCESTER This apoplexy will certain be his end.
KING HENRY IV I pray you take me up and bear me hence
Into some other chamber. Softly, pray.
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends,
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
WARWICK Call for the music in the other room.
To Servant
KING HENRY IV Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
Crown is set on the pillow
CLARENCE His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
WARWICK Less noise, less noise!
Enter Prince Henry
PRINCE HENRY Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
CLARENCE I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
Weeps
PRINCE HENRY How now? Rain within doors, and none abroad?
How doth the king?
GLOUCESTER Exceeding ill.
PRINCE HENRY Heard he the good news yet?
Tell it him.
GLOUCESTER He altered much upon the hearing it.
PRINCE HENRY If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic
WARWICK Not so much noise, my lords.-- Sweet prince, speak
low,
The king your father is disposed to sleep.
CLARENCE Let us withdraw into the other room.
WARWICK Will't please your grace to go along with us?
PRINCE HENRY No, I will sit and watch here by the king.
[Exeunt all but Prince Henry]
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polished 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 scald'st 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,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously.
My due from thee is this imperial crown,
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,
Puts crown on his head
Which heaven shall guard. And put the world's whole
strength
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me. This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.
Exit
KING HENRY IV Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!
Waking
Enter Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence
CLARENCE Doth the king call?
WARWICK What would your majesty? How fares your grace?
KING HENRY IV Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
CLARENCE We left the prince my brother here, my liege,
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
KING HENRY IV The Prince of Wales? Where is he? Let me see him.
WARWICK This door is open. He is gone this way.
GLOUCESTER He came not through the chamber where we
stayed.
KING HENRY IV Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow?
WARWICK When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.
KING HENRY IV The prince hath ta'en it hence. Go, seek him out.
Is he so hasty that he doth suppose
My sleep my death?
Find him, my lord of Warwick. Chide him hither.
[Exit Warwick]
This part of his conjoins with my disease
And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are,
How quickly nature falls into revolt
When gold becomes her object!
For this the foolish over-careful fathers
Have broke their sleeps with thoughts, their brains with
care,
Their bones with industry,
For this they have engrossed and piled up
The cankered heaps of strange-achieved gold.
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts and martial exercises.
When, like the bee, culling from every flower
The virtuous sweets,
Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees,
Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste
Yields his engrossments to the ending father.
Enter Warwick
Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determined me?
WARWICK My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow
That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have washed his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
KING HENRY IV But wherefore did he take away the crown?
Enter Prince Henry [with the crown]
Lo, where he comes.-- Come hither to me, Harry.--
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
Exeunt [Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence]
PRINCE HENRY I never thought to hear you speak again.
KING HENRY IV Thy wish was father, 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 o'erwhelm 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 i
s dim.
Thou hast stolen that which after some few hours
Were thine without offence, and at my death
Thou hast sealed up my expectation.
Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
Which 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 thy ear
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
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.
Henry the Fifth is crowned. Up, vanity,
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 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 curbed 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?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!
PRINCE HENRY O, pardon me, my liege! But for my tears,
The moist impediments unto my speech,
I had forestalled 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,
Puts it back on the pillow
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,
Kneels
Which 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,
O, let me in my present wildness die
And never live to show th'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.
Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable,
But thou, most fine, most honoured, most renowned,
Hast eat the bearer up.'--Thus, my royal liege,
Accusing it, I put it on my head,
To try with it, as with an enemy
That had before my face murdered 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 heaven forever keep it from my head
And make me as the poorest vassal is
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
KING HENRY IV O my son,
Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence,
That thou mightst join the more thy father's love,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it!
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed
Prince Henry rises
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son,
By what by-paths and indirect crooked 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 seemed in me
But as an honour snatched 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 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 mood, for what in me was purchased,
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 must make thy friends,
Have but their stings and teeth newly taken out,
By whose fell working I was first advanced
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be again displaced, which to avoid,
I cut them off and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land,
Lest rest and lying still might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course to busy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O heaven forgive,
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
PRINCE HENRY My gracious liege,
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me.
Then plain and right must my possession be;
Which I with more than with a common pain
Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
Enter Lord John of Lancaster [Prince John]and Warwick [behind]
KING HENRY IV Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.
PRINCE JOHN Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father!
KING HENRY IV Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John,
But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare withered trunk. Upon thy sight
My worldly business makes a period.
Where is my lord of Warwick?
PRINCE HENRY My lord of Warwick!
KING HENRY IV Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?
WARWICK 'Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord.
KING HENRY IV Laud be to heaven! Even there my life must end.
It hath been prophesied to me many years,
I should not die but in Jerusalem,
Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land.
But bear me to that chamber. There I'll lie.
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene 1
r
unning scene 12
Location: at Justice Shallow's, Gloucestershire
Enter Shallow, Silence, Falstaff, Bardolph, Page and Davy
SHALLOW By cock and pie, you shall not away tonight. What,
Davy, I say!
FALSTAFF You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.
SHALLOW I will not excuse you. You shall not be excused.
Excuses shall not be admitted. There is no excuse shall serve.
You shall not be excused.-- Why, Davy!
DAVY Here, sir.
Steps forward
SHALLOW Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy, let me see.
William Cook, bid him come hither. Sir John, you shall not be
excused.
DAVY Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served.
And again, sir, shall we sow the headland with wheat?
SHALLOW With red wheat, Davy. But for William Cook: are
there no young pigeons?
DAVY Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for
Gives a paper
shoeing and plough-irons.
SHALLOW Let it be cast and paid.-- Sir John, you shall not be
excused.
DAVY Sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had.
And, sir, do you mean to stop any of William's wages, about
the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley Fair
SHALLOW He shall answer? it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of
short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little
tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook.
They talk aside
DAVY Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?
SHALLOW Yes, Davy. I will use him well. A friend i'th'court is
better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy, for they
are arrant knaves, and will backbite.
DAVY No worse than they are bitten, sir, for they have
marvellous foul linen.
SHALLOW Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy.
DAVY I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of
Woncot against Clement Perkes of the Hill.
SHALLOW There are many complaints, Davy, against that
Visor. That Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.
DAVY I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir, but
yet, heaven forbid, sir, but a knave should have some
countenance at his friend's request. An honest man, sir, is
able to speak for himself, when a knave is not. I have served
your worship truly, sir, these eight years, and if I cannot once
or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest
man, I have but a very little credit with your worship. The
knave is mine honest friend, sir: therefore, I beseech your
worship let him be countenanced.
SHALLOW Go to, I say he shall have no wrong. Look about,
Davy.
[Exit Davy]
Where are you, Sir John? Come, off with your boots.-- Give
me your hand, Master Bardolph.
BARDOLPH I am glad to see your worship.
SHALLOW I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master
The Oxford Shakespeare: Henry IV, Part 2 (Oxford World's Classics) Page 11