On Fortune.

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 the rich, That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

P. H. O pardon me, my liege! but for my



The moist impedients 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,

Dialogue between Prince Henry and his Fa- Than as your honor, and as your renown,


-Come hither to me, Harry :Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. [Exeunt Lords. P.H. 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

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 stolen that, which after some few

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,
Henry the Fifth is crown'd:-up, vanity!
Down, royal state! All you sage counsellors,

And to the English court assemble now,
From ev'ry region apes of idleness;
Now, neighbour-confines, purge you of your


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, honor, might:
For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in ev'ry innocent.
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!
When that my care could not withhold thy

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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

How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,
O, let me in my present wildness die!
And never live to show the 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

I spake unto the crown, as having sense, And thus upbraided it: "The care on thee depending,

my father

Hath fed upon the body of my father;
Therefore, thou best of gold, art worst of gold:
Other, less fine in cara, is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable:
But thou most fine, most honor'd, most re-
Hast eat thy bearer up." Thus, my most royal
Accusing it, I put it on my head;
To try with it--as with an enemy
That had before my face murdered
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 God 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
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. [love,

Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel [son,
That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my
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 honor snatch'd with boisterous

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

Behold youself so by a son disdain'd;
And then imagine me taking your part,
And, in your power, soft silencing your son.

Changes the mode: for what in me was pur-See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort: [chas'd,
So thou the garland wear'st successively.
Yet tho' 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

Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out,
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whose pow'r 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 [out,
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne
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 God, 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.
Reflections on a Crown.

O polish'd perturbation! golden care! That keeps the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night-sleep with it now! Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, Ashe, 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 armor worn in heat of day, That scalds with safety.

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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 ev'ry flow'r
Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with
We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains.

The virtuous sweets,

The Chief Justice to King Henry V. whom he
had imprisoned.

-If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
To have a son set your decrees at nought;
To pluck down justice from your awful bench;
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword
That guards the peace and safety of your person;
Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image,
And mock your workings in a second body.
Question your royal thoughts, make the case
Be now the father, and propose a son: [yours,
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd,




O, FOR a muse of fire, that would ascend, The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars; and, at his heels, Leasht in like hounds, should famine, sword, Crouch for employment. [and fire,


Consideration like an angel, came,
And whipp'd th' offending Adam out of him,
Leaving his body as a paradise,

To envelope and contain celestial spirits.

King Henry V. his Perfections. Hear him but reason in divinity, And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the king were made a prelate: Hear him debate of cominon-wealth affairs, You would say, it hath been all-in-all his study: List his discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle rendered you in music. Turn him to any course of policy, The gordian knot of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, The air, a chartered libertine, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences.

The Commonwealth of Bees.

So work the honey-bees:

Creatures that, by a rule in nature, teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king, and officers of sorts:

Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds;
Which pillage they with merry march_bring
To the tent-royal of their emperor: [home
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold;
The civil citizens kneading up the honey;
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burthens at his narrow gate;
The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone.

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O England!-model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heartWhat mightst thou do, that honor would thee do,

Were all thy children kind and natural !

With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp

But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out So tediously away. The poor condemned Eng-
A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills
With treach'rous crowns.

False Appearances.

O! how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance! show men dutiful? Why, so didst thou: seem they grave and learned ? [mily? Why, so didst thou: come they of noble faWhy, so didst thou: seem they religious? Why, so didst thou: or are they spare in diet; Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger; Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood; Garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment: Not working with the eye, without the ear, And, but in purged judgement, trusting neither? Such, and so finely bolted, didst thou seem: And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, To mark the full-fraught man, and best endued, With some suspicion.

King Henry's Character, by the Constable of France.

You are too much mistaken in this king:
Question your grace the late ambassadors
With what great state he neard their embassy:
How well supplied with noble counsellors
How modest in exception, and, withal,
How terrible in constant resolution—
And you shall find, his vanities fore-spent
Were but the out-side of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly;
As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
That shall first spring, and be most delicate.
Description of a Fleet setting Sail.
Suppose, that you have seen
The well-appointed king at Hampton-pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fan-

Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing:
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd
Breasting the lofty surge.

Description of Night in a Camp.
From camp to camp, through the foul womb
of night,
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fix'd sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch :
Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face:
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the
The armorers, accomplishing the knights,

Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires [lish,
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger; and their gesture sad,
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon
So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will be-
The royal captain of this ruin'd band, [hold
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
Let him cry-praise and glory on his head!
For forth he goes, and visits all his host;
Bids them good morrow, with a modest smile;
And calls them-brothers, friends, and coun-
Upon his royal face there is no note [trymen.
How dread an army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of color
Unto the weary and all-watched night:
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint,
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ;
That ev'ry wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks ;
A largess universal, like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to ev'ry one,
Thawing cold fear.

The Miseries of Royalty.

O hard condition! twin-born with greatness, Subjected to the breath of every fool, [ing! Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringWhat infinite heart's-ease must kings neglect, That private men enjoy!

And what have kings, that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
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 the soul of adoration?
Art thou aught 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
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great great-
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure. [ness,
Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?
Will it give place to flexure and low-bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beg

gar's knee, [dream, Command the health of it? No, thou proud 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 inter-tissued 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,
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;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lacquey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, 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,
With profitable labor, to his grave;

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, [sleep,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with
Hath the fore-hand and 'vantage of a king.
A Description of the miserable State of the
English Army.

Yon island carrions, desp'rate of their bones,
Ill-favor'dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hands; and the poor

Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and
The gum down-roping from their pale dead
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit
Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and mo-

And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour.
King Henry's Speech before the Battle of

He that outlives this day, and comes safe

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,
And say, To-morrow is St. Crispian. [scars:
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his
Old men forget; yet shall not all forget,
But they'll remember, with advantages,
What feats they did that day: then shall our


Familiar in their mouths as household words,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glo'ster,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.

Description of the Duke of York's Death.
He smil'd me in the face, gave me his haud,
And, with a feeble gripe, says, "Dear my lord,
"Commend my service to my sovereign."
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet inanner of it forc'd
Those waters from me which I would

But I had not so much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

The Miseries of War.

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleach'd,
Like prisoners, widely over-grown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon; while that the coulter rusts,
That should deracinate such savagery:
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the sithe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems,
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.

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A resolved ambitious Woman.
FOLLOW I must, I cannot go before,
While Glo'ster bears this base and humble

Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks,
And smooth my way upon their headless necks,
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in fortune's pageant.

The Lord ever to be remembered.
Let never day or night unhallow'd pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.
Eleanor to the Duke of Glo'ster, while doing

For, whilst I think I am thy married wife,
And thou a prince, protector of this land,
Methinks I should not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back;
And followed with a rabble, that rejoice
To see my tears, and hear my deep-felt groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And, when I start, the envious people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.

Silent Resentment deepest.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is

And in his simple show he harbours treason.
A guilty Countenance.
haveUpon the eye-balls murd'rous tyranny
Sits, in grim majesty, to fright the world.
Description of a murdered Person.
See how the blood is settled in his face!
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,


Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, | Once by the king, and three times thrice by
Being all descended to the laboring heart;
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er

To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But, see, his face is black, and full of blood;
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man :
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with

His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength sub-
Look on the sheets: his hair, you see, is stick-
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and

Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be but he was murder'd here;
The least of all these signs were probable.

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Remorseless Hatred.

A plague upon 'em! wherefore should I curse them? [groan, Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's I would invent as bitter searching terms, As curs'd, as harsh, as horrible to hear, Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-fac'd envy in her loathsome cave: My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words,

Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
Mine hair be fix'd on end like one distract;
Ay, ev'ry joint should seem to curse and ban:
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!

Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they


Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees! Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks! Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings; Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss; And boding screech-owls make the concert full! All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell

Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow. Parting Lovers.

And banished I am, if but from thee. Go, speak not to me, even now be goneO, go not yet!-Even thus two friends condemn'd [leaves, Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand Loather a hundred times to part than die.Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee! Suff. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,

'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company.
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world!
And where thou art not, desolation.
Dying with the Person beloved, preferable to

If I depart from thee, I cannot live:
And in thy sight to die, what were it else,
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap!
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe,
Dying with mother's dug between its lips.
The Death-bed Horrors of a guilty Conscience.

Bring me unto my trial when you will: Died he not in his bed? Where should he die? Can I make men live, whether they will or no? O! torture me no more, I will confessAlive again? Then show me where he is; I'll give a thousand pounds to look upon himHe hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,

Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul! Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. Night.

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
Is crept into the bosom of the sea;
And now loud howling wolves arouse the jades
That drag the tragic melancholy night;
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.

Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle:
Sweet is the country, because full of riches;
The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy.

Kent, in the commentaries Cæsar writ,

Lord Say's Apology for himself. Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could Justice, with favor, have I always done;


When have I aught exacted at your hands,
Large gifts have I bestowed on learned clerks,
Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you?
Because my book preferr'd me to the king:
And-seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to

you be possess'd with devilish spirit,
You cannot but forbear to murder me.


The Transports of a Crown.
-Do but think

How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ;
Within whose circuit is Elysium,
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
A hungry Lion.
So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch

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