dren rawly* left. I am afeard there are few die well, that die in battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it; whom to disobey, were against all proportion of subjection. K. Hen. So, if a son, that is by his father sent about merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him: or if a servant under his master's command, transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers, and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation.-But this is not so: the king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law, and outran native punishment,† though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God: war is his beadle, war is his vengeance; so that here men are punished, for before-breach of the king's laws, in now the king's quarrel where they feared the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they perish: then if they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of their damnation, than he was before guilty of those *Suddenly. tie. Punishment'in their native country. own. impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of his conscience: and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was gained: and, in him that escapes, it were not sin to think, that making God so free an offer, he let him outlive that day to see his greatness, and to teach others how they should prepare. Will. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill is upon his own head, the king is not to answer for it. THE MISERIES OF ROYALTY. O hard condition! twin-born with greatness, Subjected to the breath of every fool, Whose sense no more can, feel but his own wringing! What infinit heart's ease must kings neglect, That private men enjoy? And what have kings, that privates have not too, And what art thou, thou idol ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more What is the soul of adoration?* Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd Than they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, *"What is the real worth and intrinsic value of adoration!" Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out With titles blown from adulation? Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave; Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep, DESCRIPTION OF THE MISERABLE STATE OF THE Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, * Farced is stuffed. The tumid puffy titles with which a king's name is introduced. †The sun. Colours. And our air shakes them passing scornfully. Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor jades Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour. KING HENRY'S SPEECH BEFORE THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Then will he strip his sleeve and shew his scars, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day: then shall our names, DESCRIPTION OF THE DUKE OF YORK'S DEATH, He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, And, with a feeble gripe, says,-Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign. So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips; The pretty and sweet manner of it forced But all my mother came into mine eyes, ACT V. THE MISERIES OF WAR. Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, King Henry VI.-Part I. ACT I. GLORY. GLORY is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. * Ploughshare. †To deracinate is to force up the roots. |