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Sleep, gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber: Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch, A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafʼning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly * death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude ;
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king?
THE CHARACTER OF KING HENRY V. BY HIS FATHER.
He is gracious, if he be observ'd * ;
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint;
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well observ’d:
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin’d to mirth :
But, being moody, give him line and scope;
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working.
REFLECTIONS ON GOLD.
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
Their bones with industry;
[with care, 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 bive; and, like the bees, Are murder'd for our pains.
* Has an attention shown him. + Taking toll.
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 biggint 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.
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 are the rich, That have abundance, and enjoy it not. SCENE BETWEEN PRINCE HENRY AND HIS FATHER.
Come hither to me, Harry:Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
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 assurd 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 forgoiten 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 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 carb'd licence plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.
* Confirmed my opinion,
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?
0, 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 forestali'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,
Tban 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,
0, 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 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 caret *, is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine portablet:
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 murder'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 ;
† To be taken.