Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession :
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:
That men would tell their children,
"This is he;"

Others would say, "Where?—which is

Bolingbroke?"

Such as is bent on sun-like majesty, When it shines seldom in admiring eyes · But rather drows'd, and hung their eyelids down,

Slept in his face and render'd such aspect As cloudy men use to their adversaries : Being with his presence glutted, gorged and full.

That I did pluck allegiance from men's

HIMSELF.

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 perfumed chambers of the great,

Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest me. lody?

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 hang.
ing them

With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,

That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ?

Canst thou, O partial Sleep, give thy

serv'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.

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 are the rich,

That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

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, 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 de

crees:

HIS FATHER.

King Henry. COME hither to me, Harry :

Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. Prince Henry. I never thought to hear you speak again.

King Henry. 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 stolen that, which, after some

few hours,

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 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! Prince Henry. O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears, [Kneeling. 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!

KING HENRY'S ADDRESS TO
HIS SOLDIERS.
King Henry V.

ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends, -once more,

Or close the wall up with our English dead!

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility;

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd
rage;

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'er-
whelm it,

As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril
wide;

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit

To his full height! On, on, you noble English,

Whose blood is fet from fathers of war. proof!

Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought,

And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument.

So tediously away.

English,

The poor condemned

Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
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 behold

The royal captain of this ruin'd band, 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 countrymen.

Upon his royal face there is no note, How dread an army hath enrounded him;

Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour Unto the weary and all-watched night: But freshly looks, and overbears attaint.

D*

jesty ;

That every wretch, pining and pale before, eholding him, plucks comfort from his

looks:

ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF KING
HENRY V.

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 commonwealth affairs, You would say,-it hath been all-in-all his study;

List his discourse of war, and you shall hear

A fearful battle render'd you in music:
Turn him to any cause of policy,
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,
Familiar as his garter; that, when he
speaks,

The air, a charter'd libertine, is still,
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's
ears,

To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences.

THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT.

HE that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

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 saint Crispian : Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars,

And say, These wounds I had on Crispin's day.

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day; then shall

our names,

Familiar in their mouths as household words,

Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remem. ber'd.

This story shall the good man teach his

son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered,-
We few, we happy few, we band of bro-
thers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with

me,

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition :
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were
not here;

And hold their manhoods cheap, whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

A GOOD CONSCIENCE.

King Henry VI. WHAT stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?

Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just;