And (Heav'n configning to my good intents)
No prince, nor peer, fhall have juft caufe to fay,
Heav'n fhorten Harry's happy life one day.

The VANITY of POWER, and the MISERY of
KINGS: a Dialogue between SCROOP and RICHARD II.

SCROOP.

[SHAKESPEARE.]

Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver TORE health and happiness betide my Liege,

him!

K. RICH. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar'd; The worst is worldly lofs thou canft unfold..

Say, is my kingdom loft? Why, 'twas my care;
And what lofs is it, to be rid of care?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?
Geater he fhall not be; if he ferve God,
We'll ferve him too, and be his fellow fo.
Revolt our fubjects? That we cannot mend;
They break their faith to God, as well as us.
Cry, woe, deftruction, ruin, lofs, decay;
The worst is death, and death will have his day.
SCROOP. Glad am I that your Highness is so arm'd
To bear the tidings of calamity.

Like an unfeafonable ftormy day,

Which makes the filver rivers drown their fhores,

As if the world were all diffolv'd to tears;

So high above his limits fwells the rage

Of Bolingbroke, cov'ring your fearful land

With hard bright fteel, and hearts more hard than steel.

White beards have arm'd their thin and hairlefs fcalps
Against thy Majefty; boys with women's voices

Strive to fpeak big, and clafp their female joints
In ftiff unwieldy arms, against thy crown.
Thy very beadfmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew, against thy ftate:
Yea, diftaff-women manage rufty bills.
Against thy feat both young and old rebel,
And all goes worse than I have pow'r to tell.

K. RICH. Too well, too well thou tell'ft a tale fo ill,
Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is he
got!
What is become of Bufhy? Where is Green?
-No matter where; of comfort no man fpeak.
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,

Make

Make duft our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write forrow on the bofom of the earth!
Let's chufe executors, and talk of wills;
And yet not fo for what can we bequeath,
Save our depofed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own but death;
And that fmall model of the barren earth,
Which ferves as pafte and cover to our bones.
For heav'n's fake, let us fit upon the ground,
And tell fad ftories of the death of Kings;
How fome have been depos'd, fome flain in war;
Some haunted by the ghofts they difpoffefs'd;
Some poifon'd by their wives, fome fleeping kill'd;
All murder'd.- -For within the hollow crown,
That rounds the mortal temples of a King,
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic fits,
Scoffing his ftate, and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little fcene

To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infufing him with felf and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brafs impregnable; and, humour'd thus,
Comes at the laft, and with a little pin

Bores through his castle walls, and farewel King!
Cover your heads, and mock not flefh and blood
With folemn rev'rence: throw away refpect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but miftook me all this while.
I live on bread like you, feel want like you;
Tafte grief, need friends, like you fubjected thus,
How can you fay to me I am a king?

The UPBRAIDINGS of a FATHER, and the PIETY of a SON: a Dialogue between King HENRY IV. and Prince HENRY.

T

P. HENRY. Never thought to hear you speak again. K. HENRY. Thy with was father, Harry, to that thought.

I ftay too long by thee, I weary thee.

Doft thou fo hunger for my empty chair,

That thou wilt needs inveft thee with my honours,

Before thy hour be ripe! O foolish youth!

Thou

Thou feek'ft the greatnefs that will overwhelm thee.
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with fo weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop; my day is dim.
Thou haft ftol'n that, which, after fome few hours,
Were thine without offence; and at my death
Thou haft fealed up my expectation;

Thy life did manifeft, thou lov'dft me not;
And thou wilt have me die affur'd of it.
Thou hid'ft a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,.
Which thou haft whetted on thy ftony heart,
To ftab at half an hour of my frail life.
What canft thou not forbear me half an hour?
Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyfelf,
And bid the merry bells ring to thy ear,
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that fhould bedew my hearfe,
Be drops of balm to fanctify thy head;
Only compound me with forgotten duft,
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 ftate! All you fage counfellors, hence!
And to the English court affemble now,
From ev'ry region, apes of idleness:

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your fcum;
Have you a ruffian that will fwear? drink? dance?:
Revel the night? rob? murder? and commit
The oldeft fins the neweft kind of ways ?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
England fhall give him office, honour, might:
For the Fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
The muzzle, of reftraint! and, the wild dog.
Shall Beth his tooth on ev'ry innocent.

O my poor kingdom, fick with civil blows 02
When that my care could not with-hold thy riots,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?

O, thou wilt be a wildernefs again,

Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.

P. HENRY. O pardon me, my Liege! but for my tears, (The moift impediments unto my fpeech) I had foreftall'd this dear and deep rebuke, Ere you with grief had fpoke, and I had heard

The

The course of it fo far. There is your crown;
And he that wears the crown immortally,
Long guard it yours! If I affect it more,
Than as your honour, and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rife,'.
Which my moft true and inward-duteous fpirit
Teacheth this proftrate and exterior bending.
Heav'n witnefs with me, when I here came in,
And found no courfe of breath within your Majefty,
How cold it ftruck my heart! If I do feiga,
O let me in my prefent wildness die,

And never live to fhew th' incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed.
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
(And dead almoft, my Liege, to think you were)
I fpake unto the crown, as having fenfe,

And thus upbraided it. The care on thee depending
Hath fed upon the body of my father,

Therefore thou beft of gold art worft of gold;
Other, lefs fine in carrat, is more precious,

Preferving life in med'cine potable:

But thou, moft fine, moft honour'd, most renown'd,
Haft eat thy bearer up. Thus, Royal Liege,

Accufing it, I put it on my head,

To try with it (as with an enemy,

That had before my face murder'd my father) or f

The quarrel of a true inheritor.

But if it did infect my blood with joy,.

Or fwell my thoughts to any ftrain of pride,

If any rebel or vain fpirit of mine.

Did with the least affection of a welcome brow

Give entertainment to the might of it,

Let Heav'n for ever keep it from my head,322
And make me as the pooreft vaffal is,

That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!.

K. HENRY. O my fon!

Heav'n put it in thy mind to take it hence,

That thou might'it win the more thy father's love,

Pleading fo wifely in excufe of it.

Come hither, Harry, fit thou by my bed;

And hear, I think, the very latest counfel

That ever I fhall breathe. Heav'n knows, my fon,
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways.
I met this crown; and I myfelf know well,

How

How troublefome it fat upon my head.
To thee it fhall defcend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation:

For all the foil of the atchievement goes
With me into the earth. It feem'd in me
But as an honour fnatch'd with boift'rous hand,,
And I had many living to upbraid

My gain of it by their adftances;
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding fuppofed peace. All their bold feats,
Thou feeft, with peril I have answered.
For all my reign hath been but as a fcene
Acting that argument: and now my death
Changes the mode; for what in me was purchas'd,
Falls upon thee in a much fairer fort:
For thou the garland wear'ft fucceffively.

Yet though thou ftand'ft more fure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, fince griefs are green;
And all thy friends, which thou must make thy friends
Have but their ftings and teeth newly ta'en out;
By whofe fell working I was firft advanc'd,
And by whofe pow'r I well might lodge a fear,.
To be again difplac'd; which to avoid
I cut them off, and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the holy land;

Left reft and lying ftill might make them look
Too near into my ftate. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy courfe to bufy giddy minds

With foreign quarrels; that action, hence, borne out,
May wafte the memory of former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted fo,
That ftrength of fpeech is utterly deny'd me,
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive!"
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!

P. HENRY. My gracious Liege,

You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;
Then plain and right muft my poffeffion be;
Which I with more than with a common pain,

'Gainft all the world, will rightfully maintain.

Undaunted COURAGE in the Midft of DANGER.
HENRY V. to his SOLDIERS.

HAT's he that wishes for more men from England?
My coufin Weftmoreland? No, my fair coufin,

WH