O ceremony, fhew me but thy worth,
What is thy foul, O adoration?

Art thou aught elfe but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art lefs happy, being fear'd,
Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, inftead of homage fweet,
But poifon'd flatt'ry? O be fick, great Greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure.

Think'ft thou, the fiery fever will go out

With titles blown from adulation?

mediate preceding line, he degrades it there, but puts as good a word indeed in its ftead, that is to fay, tell. WARBURTON.

Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Can't thou, when thou command'ft the beggar's knee, Command the health of it? no, thou proud dream, That play'ft fo fubtly with a King's repofe; I am a King, that find thee; and I know, 'Tis not the balm, the fcepter and the ball, The fword, the mace, the crown imperial, The enter-tiffued robe of gold and pearl, The 'farfed title running 'fore the King, The throne he fits on, nor the tide of pomp is thy TOLL, O adoration! Let us examine how the context ftands with my emendation. What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in? What is thy worth? What is thy toll?- (i.e. the dut es, and imposts, thou receivet:) All here is confonant, and agreeable to a fenfible exclamation. So King John:- No Italian priest hall tyth or TOLL in our dominions. But the Oxford Editor, now he finds the way open for alteration, reads, What is thy fhew of adoration. By which happy emendation, what is about to be enquired into, is first taken for granted: namely, that ceremony is but a fhew. And to make room for this word here, which is found in the im

This emendation is not ill conceived, yet I believe it is erroneous. The first copy reads, What? is the foul of Odoration. This is incorrect, but I think we may discover the true reading eafily enough to be, What is thy foul, O adoration? That is, reverence paid to Kings, what art thou within? What are thy real qualities? What is thy intrinfick value?

6 Farfed title running, &c] Farted is fuffed. The tumid pufty titles with which a king's name is always introduced. This I think is the fenfe.

That

That beats upon the high fhore of this world
No, not all these thrice-gorgeous ceremonies,
Not all these, laid in bed majeftical,

"Can fleep fo foundly as the wretched flave:
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to reft, cramm'd with distressful bread,
Never fees horrid night, the child of hell,
But, like a lacquey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phabus; and all night
Sleeps in Elyfium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rife, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follows fo the ever-running year
With profitable labour to his grave:
And, but for ceremony, fuch a wretch,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with fleep,
Hath the fore-hand and vantage of a King.
The flave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in grofs brain little wots,
What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace;
Whofe hours the peafant beft advantages.

Erp. My Lord, your Nobles, jealous of your

fence,

Seek through your camp to find you.

K. Henry. Good old Knight,

Collect them all together at my tent:

I'll be before thee.

Erp. I fhall do't, my Lord.

ab

[Exit.

K. Henry. O God of batties! fteel my foldiers

hearts;

7 Can fleep fofoundly, &c.] Thefe lines are exquifitely pleafing. To fweat in the eye of Plice

bus, and to fleep in Elyfium, are expreffions very poetical.

Pof

Poffefs them not with fear; take from them now
The fenfe of reck'ning; left th' opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them.-Not to day, O Lord,
O not to day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compaffing the crown.
1 Richard's body have interred new,
And on it have beftow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it iffu'd forced drops of blood.
Five hundred Poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up
Tow'rd heaven to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chauntries, where the fad and folemn priests
Sing ftill for Richard's foul. More will I do;
Tho' all that I can do, is nothing worth,
9 Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.

8 In former editions:

take from them now The Senfe of reck'ning of th opprfed Numbers:

Pluck their hearts from them.] Thus the first folio. The Poet might intend, Take from them "the Senfe of reckoning those "opposed Numbers; whb might pluck their Courage "from them." But the relative not being exprefs'd, the Senfe is very obfcure. THEOB. The change is admitted by Dr. Warburton, and rightly. Sir T. Hanmer reads,

—th opposed numbers
Which fani before them.
This reading he borrowed from
the old quarto, which gives the
paffage thus,

Take from them now the fenfe
of reckoning,
That the oppojed multitudes that
fand before them
May not appall their courage.

Enter

9 Since that my penitence comes after ALL,

Imploring pardon.] We muft obferve, that Henry IV. had committed an injuftice, of which he, and his fon, reap'd the fruits. But reafon tells us, juftice demands that they who share the profits of iniquity, shall share alfo in the punishment. Scripture again tells us, that when men have finned, the Grace of God gives frequent invitations to repentance; which, in the language of Divines, are stiled Calls. Thefe, if neglected, or careley dallied with, are, at length, irrecoverably withdrawn, and then repentance comes too late. All this fhews that the unintelligible reading of the text fhould be corrected thus,

comes after CALL. WARBURTON.

I wish the commentator had explained his meaning a little

better;

Enter Gloucester.

Glou. My Liege.

K. Henry. My brother Glofter's voice? I know thy errand, I will go with thee,

The day, my friends, and all things stay for me...

S CE NE VII.

Changes to the French Camp.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and Beaumont,

Orl.

ha!

HE Sun doth gild our armour; up, my
Lords.

THE

Dau. Montez Cheval: my horfe, valet, lacquay:

Orl. O brave fpirit!

Dau. Via!les eaux & la terre.

Orl. Rien puis! le air & feu.

Dau. Ciel! Coufin Orleans.

Enter Conftable.

Now, my Lord Constable!

Con. Hark, how our Steeds for prefent fervice neigh.

Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And daunt them with fuperfluous courage ha!

Ram. What, will you have them weep our Horfes' blood?

How fhall, we then behold their natural tears?

Enter a Meffenger.

Me. The English are embattel d, you French Peers. Con. To horfe! you gallant Princes, ftrait to horfe! Do but behold yon poor and starved band,

And your fair fhew fhall fuck away their fouls;
Leaving them but the fhales and hufks of men.
There is not work enough for all, our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their fickly veins
To give each naked curtle-ax a stain ;-
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheath for lack of fport. Let's but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them..
'Tis pofitive 'gainst all exception, Lords,
That our fuperfluous lacqueys and our peasants,
Who in unneceffary action swarm

About our squares of battle, were enow
To purge this field of fuch a hilding foe;
Tho' we, upon this mountain's bafis by,
Took ftand for idle speculation;

But that our honours muft not. What's to say?
A very little, little, let us do;

And all is done. Then let the trumpets found
The tucket fonance, and the note to mount,
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England fhall couch down in fear, and yield.

▾ The tucket-fonance, &c.] He ufes terms of the field as if they were going out only to the chafe for fport. To dare the field is a phrafe in falconry. Birds are dared when, by the falcon in the

air, they are terrified from rising, fo that they will be sometimes taken by the hand.

Such an eafy capture the lords expected to make of the Englif

Enter