Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will 't please your grace to go along with us?
P. Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the king.

[Exeunt all but P. Henry.

Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ?
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 biggin 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 rigold hath divorc'd
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,-

[Putting it 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 't is left to me.

K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence!

Cla.

Re-enter Warwick, and the rest.

Doth the king call?

War. What would your majesty? How fares your grace?
K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my liege,

Who undertook to sit and watch by you.

K. Hen. The prince of Wales?

He is not here.

[Exit.

Where is he? let me see him.

War. This door is open; he is gone this way.

P. Humph. He came not through the chamber where we stay'd.

K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow?

War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.

K. Hen. 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.
This part of his conjoins with my disease,

And helps to end me.-See, sons, what things you are!

[Exit Warwick.

How quickly nature falls into revolt,

When gold becomes her object!

For this the foolish over-careful fathers

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care,
Their bones with industry;

For this they have engrossed and pil'd up

The canker'd 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 pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Are murther'd for our pains. This bitter taste
Yields his engrossments to the ending father.

Re-enter Warwick.

Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?

War. 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 quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.

K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the crown?

Re-enter Prince Henry.

:

Lo, where he comes;-Come hither to me, Harry :-
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

[Exeunt Clarence, Prince Humphrey, Lords, &c.

P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again.

K. Hen. 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 overwhelm 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 is dim.

Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and, at my death,

Thou hast seal'd up my expectation :

Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assur'd 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 thine 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.

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 scum :
Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night; rob, murder, and cɔmmit
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?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,

Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!

P. Hen. O, 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 honour, and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rise,—
(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 medicine potable;

Freeling.

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 murther'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;

If any vebei or vain spirit of mine

Did, with the least affection of a welcome,
Give entertainment to the might of it,
Let Heaven for ever keep it from my head,
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
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 mightst 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 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 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;

Which daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears,
Thou seest, 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 purchas'd,
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 ta'en out;

By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,

And by whose power I well might lodge a fear

To be again displac'd: 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!
P. Hen. 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 Prince John of Lancaster, Warwick, Lords, and others.
K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.
P. John. Health, peace and happiness, to my royal father!
K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John ;

But health, aiack, with youthful wings is flown

From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight,
My worldly business makes a period.

Where is my lord of Warwick ?

P. Hen.
My lord of Warwick!
K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?

War. "T is call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.

K. Hen. 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 suppos'd the Holy Land :—

But, bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie;
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.

[Exeunt.

126.-KING HENRY V. AND THE LORD CHIEF JUSTICE.

SHAKSPERE.

[The story is told by Sir Tomas Elyot, in his book of The Governor,' of the committal of Prince Henry to the Fleet by the Lord Chief Justice. This tradition was believed (perhaps upon the authority of Elyot) by Sir Edward Coke and Sir John Hawkins: and was referred to by them in legal arguments. The anecdote, as detailed by Elyot, is very amusing :—

"A good Judge, a good Prince, a good King.

"The most renowned prince, King Henry V., late king of England, during the life of his father, was noted to be fierce and of wanton courage. It happened that one of his servants whom he favoured well, was for felony by him committed arraigned at the King's Bench; wherefore the prince being advertised, and incensed by light persons about him, in furious rage came hastily to the bar, where his servant stood as a prisoner, and commanded him to be ungyved and set at liberty. Whereat all men were abashed, reserved the chief justice, who humbly exhorted the prince to be contented that his servant might be ordered according to the antient laws of this realm; or if he would have him saved from the rigour of the laws, that he should obtain, if he might, of the king his father his gracious pardon, whereby no law or justice should be derogate.

"With which answer the prince nothing appeased, bnt rather more inflamed, endeavoured himself to take away his servant. The judge considering the perilous example and inconvenience that might thereby ensue, with a valiant spirit and courage commanded the prince upon his allegiance to leave the prisoner and depart his way; at which commandment the prince being set all in a fury, all chafed, and in a terrible manner, came up to the place of

HH