That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody? Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Enter PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOSTER, PRINCE. THOMAS OF CLARENCE, the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE, and the PAGES. P. Humph. What would your grace ? K. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster. Where is the prince your brother? P. Humph. I think, he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor. K. Hen. And how accompanied? P. Humph. I do not know, my lord. K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him? P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in presence here. P. Thom. What would my lord and father? K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. How chance, thou art not with the prince thy brother? He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; Between his greatness and thy other brethren. Yet, notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint; And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends; it in,) P. Thom. I shall observe him with all care and love. K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, P. Thom. He is not there to day; he dines in Lon- K. Hen. And how accompanied ? P. Thom. With Poins, and other his continual followers. K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; And he, the noble image of my youth, Is overspread with them: Therefore my grief The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape, you When I am sleeping with my ancestors. Ch. Just. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite : The prince but studies his companions, Like a strange tongue: wherein, to gain the language, 'Tis needful, that the most immodest word Be look'd upon and learn'd; which once attain'd, But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms, Shall as a pattern or a measure live, By which his grace must mete the lives of others; K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her comb In the dead carrion. Enter EARL OF WESTMORELAND, with Letters. Who's here?Westmoreland? West. Health to my sovereign! and new happiness Added to that which I am to deliver! Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand: Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, law; Are brought to the correction of your K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day. And wherefore should these good news make me sick? Will fortune never come with both hands full? And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy:- P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty! [Sinks down. Ch. Just. 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. P. Thom. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs. Ch. Just. Speak lower, princes, for the king reco vers. K. Hen. I pray you, bear me to my couch, my sons.- [They support the King to his Couch. Softly, pray. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; Will whisper music to my weary spirit. West. Call for the music in the other room. [Exeunt Pages. K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. [WESTMORELAND puts the Crown on the Pillow. P. Thom. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. Ch. Just. Less noise, less noise. [Music without. Enter HENRY PRINCE OF WALES. P. Hen. Who saw my brother Clarence? P. Hen. How doth the king? P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet? P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it. West. Not so much noise, my lords :-sweet prince, speak low; The king your father is dispos'd to sleep. P. Thom. Let us withdraw into the other room. West. 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 the Prince. Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow? O polish'd perturbation; golden care! This sleep is sound, indeed; this is a sleep, |