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England shall double gild his treble gilt:
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!

P. HEN. 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! If I affect it more,
Than 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,
O, 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 carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable:

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;
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine

Did, with the least affection of a welcome,
Give entertainment to the might of it,
Let God for ever keep it from my head!
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it.
K. HEN. O my son!

Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence, That thou might'st win the more thy father's love,

Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.

Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son,
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways,
I met this crown; and I myself know well,
How troublesome it sat upon my head:
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation;
For all the soil of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me,
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand;
And I had many living, to upbraid

My gain of it by their assistances;

Which daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed,

Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears,
Thou see'st, with peril I have answered :
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument; and now my death
Changes the mode: for what in me was purchas'd,
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;

So thou the garland wear'st successively.

Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,

Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green; And all thy friends, which thou must make thy friends,

Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be again displac'd: which to avoid,

I cut them off: and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land;
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne
out,

May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive!
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, s. 4.

THE FAIRY'S RELEASE FROM HER

EARTHLY PASSION.

WELCOME, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight?

Her dotage now I do begin to pity.
For meeting her of late, behind the wood,
Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her:
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flourets' eyes,
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,
And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes.
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain ;
That he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair;
And think no more of this night's accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the fairy queen.
Be, as thou was wont to be;

[Touching her eyes with an herb.

See, as thou was wont to see:

Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower

Hath such force and blessed power.

Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 4, s. 1.

THE FATALISM OF SIN.

You are three men of sin, whom destiny
(That hath to instrument this lower world,

And what is in't,) the never-surfeited sea Hath caused to belch up, and on this island Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; [Seeing ALON. SEB. &c. draw their swords. And even with such like valour, men hang and drown

Their proper selves. You fools! I and my fellows Are ministers of fate; the elements,

Of whom your

swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish

One dowle that's in my plume; my fellowministers

Are like invulnerable: if you could hurt, Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,

three

And will not be uplifted: But, remember,
(For that's my business to you,) that you
From Milan did supplant good Prospero;
Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him, and his innocent child: for which foul deed
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the
creatures,

Against your peace: Thee, of thy son, Alonso,
They have bereft; and do pronounce by me,
Ling'ring perdition (worse than any death
Can be at once,) shall step by step attend
You, and your ways; whose wraths to guard
you from

(Which here, in this most desolate isle ; else falls Upon your heads,) is nothing, but heart's sorrow, And a clear life ensuing.

TEMPEST, A. 3, s. 3.

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