Unfather'd heirs, and loathly births of nature: The seasons change their manners

as the

year

Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them

over.

Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb

between:

And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,

Say, it did so, a little time before

That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and

died.

War. Speak lower, Princes, for the King re

covers,

P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end.

K. Ken, I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence Into some other chamber: softly, pray.

[They convey the King to an inner part off the room, and place him on a bed Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper musick to my weary spirit.

War, Call for the musick in the other room.
K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow
here.

Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much,
War. Less noise, less noise,

Enter Prince HHNRY,

P. Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence ?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
P. Hen. How now! rain within doors, and
none abroad!

How doth the King?

P. Humph. Exceeding ill.

P. IIen. Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him.

P. Humpb. He alter'd much ppon the hearing it.

P. Hen. If he be sick With joy, he will recover without physick. War. Not so much noise, my Lords: — sweet Prince, speak low;.

The King your father is dispos'd to sleep.
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 Prince 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 rigol 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 worlds 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. K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence!

Re-enter WARWICK, and the rest.

Cla. 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

1

Who undertook to sit and watch by you. K. Hen. The Prince of Wales? Where is he? let me see him:

He is not here.

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

X

it here.

My sleep my death?

-

Find him, my Lord of Warwick; chidé him hi

ther.

[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

Haye 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, tolling 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 murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
Yield 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, Har

ry:

Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. [Exeunt CLARENCE, Prince HUMPHREY, Lords, &c. P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again.

C

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 hq

nours

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
hours,

Were thine without offence; and, at any death,
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation :

Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst 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 thine ear,
That thou art crowned, nor that I am dead.