Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

§ 20. THE SECOND PART OF HENRY IV. į

I,

Prologue.-Rumour.

SHAKSPEARE.

FROM the orient to the drooping weft,
Making the wind my pofthorfe, ftill unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth:
Upon my tongues continual flanders ride;
The which in ev'ry language I pronounce;
Stuffing the ears of men with falfe reports.
I fpeak of peace, while covert enmity,
Under the smile of fafety, wounds the world:
And who but Rumour, who but only 1,
Make fearful mufters, and prepar'd defence,
Whilft the big year, fwoln with fome other grief,
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no fuch matter? Rumour is a pipe
Blown by furmifes, jealoufies, conjectures;
And of fo eafy and fo plain a ftop,

That the blunt monfter with uncounted heads,
The ftill difcordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it.

Contention.

Contention, like a horfe

Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him.

Poft-Meffenger.

After him, came, fpurring hard, A gentleman almost forefpent with speed, That ftopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horfe: He afk'd the way to Chefter; and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. He told me, that rebellion had ill luck, And that young Harry Percy's fpur was cold : With that, he gave his able horie the head, And, bending forward, ftruck his armed heels Against the panting fides of his poor jade Up to the rowel head; and, ftarting fo, He feem'd in running to devour the way, Staying no longer question.

Melenger with ill News.

Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, Foretels the nature of a tragic volume: So looks the ftrond whereon th' imperious flood Hath left a witnefs'd ufurpation.

Thou trembleft; and the whitencfs in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even fuch a man, fo faint, fo fpiritlefs, So dull, fo dead in look, fo woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,

Greater Griefs deftroy the less.

As the wretch, whole fever-weaken'd joints, Like ftrengthlefs hinges, buckle under life, Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire

Out of his keeper's arms; even fo my limbs,
Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief,
Are thrice themfelves: Hence, therefore, thou nice
crutch;

A fcaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel,
Muft glove his hand : and hence, thou fickly quoif;
Thon art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which princes, flefh'd with conqueft, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The rugged it hour that time and fpite dare bring
To frown upon th' enrag'd Northumberland!
Let heaven kifs earth! now let not Nature's hand
Keep the wild flood confin'd! Let order die !
And let this world no longer be a stage
To feed contention in a ling'ring a&t;
But let one fpirit of the firft-born Cain
Reign in all bofoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courfes, the rude fcene may end,
And darkncfs be the burier of the dead!
The Fickleness of the Vulgar.
An habitation giddy and unfure
Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many! with what loud applause
Didft thou beat heaven with bleffing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be!
And, being now trimm'd in thine own defires,
Thou, beaftly feeder, art fo full of him,
That thou provok 'ft thyself to caft him up.
On Sleep.

-O gentle fleep,
Nature's foft nurfe, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And fteep my fenfes in forgetfulnets!

Why rather, fleep, lieft thou in fmoky cribs,
Upon uneafy pallets ftretching thee,

And hufh'dwith buzzing night-flies to thy flumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopics of coftly ftate,

And lull'd with founds of fweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why lieft thou with the vile,
In loathfome beds; and leav'ft the kingly couch,

A watch-cafe, or a common larum-bell?
Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,
Seal up the fhip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious furge;
And in the vifitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

And would have told him, half his Troy was Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them

burn'd:

I fee a strange confeffion in thine eye:
Thou fhak'i thy head; and hold'ft it fear, or fin,
To speak a truth. If he be flain, say fo:
The tongue offends not that reports his death:
And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead;
Not he, which fays the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a lofing office; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a fullen bell,
Remember'd knolling a departed friend.

With deaf 'ning-clamours in the flipp'ry clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Cantt thou, O partial fleep! give thy repofe
To the wet fea-boy in an hour fo rude;
And, in the calmeft and moft ftilleft night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king ?

The Character of King Henry V. by bis Father.
He is gracious, if he be obferv'd;
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:

Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he 's flint;
As humourous as winter, and as fudden
As flaws congealed in the fpring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well obferv'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 paffions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working.

On Fortune.

tears,

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
[Kneeling.
The moift impediments unto my speech,
I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,
Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard
The courfe of it fo far. There is your crown;
And he that wears the crown immortally
Long guard it yours! If I affect it more,

Will fortune never come with both hands full, Than as your honour, and as your renown,

But write her fair words ftill in fouleft letters?

She either gives a ftomach, and no food-
Such are the poor in health; or elfe a feaft,
And takes away the ftomach;-fuch the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.
Dialogue between Prince Henry and his Father.
Come hither to me, Harry:
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

[Ex. Lords.
P. H. I never thought to hear you fpeak again.
K. Hen. Thy wifh was father, Harry, to that
I ftay too long by thee, I weary thee. [thought
Doft thou fo hunger for my empty chair,
That thou wilt needs inveft thee with minehonours,
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolith youth!

:

Let me no more from this obedience rife
(Which my most true and inward duteous spirit
Teacheth), this proftrate and exterior bending!
Heaven witnefs with me, when I here came in,
And found no courfe of breath within your Majesty,
How cold it ftruck my heart! If I do feign,
O, let me in my prefent wildnefs die ;
And never live to fhew the 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),
fpake unto the crown, as having fenfe,
And thus upbraided it. "The care on thee de]
pending,

I

"Hath fed upon the body of my father; Thou feek 'ft the greatnefs that will overwhelm" Therefore, thou, beft of gold, art worst of gold. Stay but a little for my cloud of dignity [thee." Other, lefs fine in carat, is more precious,

Is held from falling with fo weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop; my day is dim.

"Preferving life in med'cine potable: [nown'd, "But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most re

Thou haft ftolen that, which after fome few hours" Halt eat thy bearer up." Thus, my most royal

Were thine without offence, and, at my death,
Thou haft feal'd 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 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 thine car
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 counfeliors, hence!
And to the English court aflemble now,
From ev'ry region, apes of idleness!
Now, neighbour-confines, purge you of your feum:
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 double gild his treble guilt;
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 flesh his tooth in ev'ry innocent.
O my poor kingdom, fick with civil blows!
When that my care ceuld not with-hold thy ricts,

my

[liege,

Accufing it, I put it on my head;
To try with it-as with an enemy
That had before my face murder'd father-
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 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 pooreft vaffal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
K. Hen. O my fon!

Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence,
That thou might ft 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 lateft counsel
That ever I fhall breathe. Heaven knows, my fon,
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways,
I met this crown; and I myfelf know well,
How troublesome it fat upon my head:
Fo thee it thall defcend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation;
For all the foil of the achievement goes
With me into the carth. It feem'd, in me,
But as an honour fnatch'd with boisterous nand;
And I had many living, to upbraid
My gain of it by their affiftances;
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding fuppofed peace: All thefe bold fears,
Thou feeft, with peril I have answered:
For all my reign hath been but as a fcene

Acting

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:
So thou the garland wear'ft fucceffively.
Yet, tho' 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,

Be now the father, and propofe a fon :
Hear your own dignity fo much profan'd,
See your moft dreadful laws fo loosely flighted,
Behold yourself fo by a fon difdain'd;
And then imagine me taking your part,
And, in your power, foft filencing your fon.

§ 21 THE LIFE OF HENRY V.

Prologue.

SHAKSPEARE.

And by whole pow'r I well might lodge a fear,FOR a mufe of fire, that would afcend
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 unto my ftate. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy courfe, to bufy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne
May wafte the memory of the former days. [out,
More would I, but my lungs are wafted fo,
That ftrength of fpeech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive!
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
P. Hen. My gracious liege,

The brightest heaven of invention !
A kingdom for a ftage, princes to act,
And monarchs to behold the fwelling fcene!
Then fhould the warlike Harry, like himself,
Affume the port of Mars; and, at his heels,
Leafht in like hounds, fhould famine, fword, and
Crouch for employment.
[fire,

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,
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
Reflections on a Crown.

O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keeps the ports of flumber open wide
To many a watchful night!-fleep with it now!
Yet not fo found, and half fo deeply fweet,
As he, whofe brow, with homely biggen bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O Majefty!
When thou doft pinch thy bearer, thou doft fit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That fcalds with fafety.

Gold.

How quickly nature falls into revolt,
When gold becomes her object!

For this, the foolish, over-careful fathers
Have broke their fleep with thoughts, their brains
Their bones with industry;
[with care,

For this they have engroffed and pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of ftrange achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their fons with arts and martial exercifes:
When, like the bee, tolling from ev'ry flow'r
The virtuous fweets,

[honey,
Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with
We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains.

Confideration.

Confideration, like an angel, came,
And whipp'd th' offending Adam out of him:
Leaving his body as a paradife,
To envelop and contain celeftial fpirits.
King Henry V. bis Perfections.
Hear him but reafon in divinity,
And, all-admiring, with an inward with
You would defire the king were made a prelate:
Hear him debate of common-wealth affairs,
You would fay, it hath been all-in-all his study:
Lift his difcourfe of war, and you
fhall hear
A fearful battle render'd you in mufic.
Turn him to any cause of policy,
The gordian knot of it he will unloofe,
The air, a charter'd libertine, is still,
Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks,

And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears,
To fteal his fweet and honey'd fentences.
The Common-wealth of Bees.

So work the honey-bees:
Creatures that, by a rule in nature, teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king, and officers of forts :
Where fome, like magiftrates, correct at home;
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;
Others, like foldiers, armed in their ftings,
Make boot upon the fummer's velvet buds;
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent-royal of their emperor:
Who, bufied in his majefty, furveys
The finging mafons building roofs of gold;
The civil citizens kneading up the honey;
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burthens at his narrow gate;
The fad-eyed juftice, with his furly hum,

The Chief Juflice to King Henry V. whom be Delivering o'er to executors pale

bad imprisoned.

-If the deed were ill,

Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
To have a fon fet your decrees at nought;
To pluck down juftice from your awful bench;
To trip the course of law, and blunt the fword
That guards the peace and fafety of your perfon:
Nay, more, to fpurn at your most royal image,
And mock your workings in a fecond body.
Quettion your royal thoughts, make the cafe yours,

The lazy yawning drone.

Warlike Spirit.

Now all the youth of England are on fire,
And filken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns folely in the breaft of ev'y man:
They fell the pafture now to buy the horse;
Following the mirior of all Chriftian kings,
With winged hecis, as English Mercuries.
For now fits expectation in the air;

[blocks in formation]

Falfe Appearances.

O how thou haft with jealoufy infected
The sweetnefs of affiance! fhew men dutiful?
Why, fo didst thou: feem they grave and
learned?

Why, fo didft thou: come they of noble family?
Why, fo didst thou: feem they religious?
Why, fo didit thou or are they fpare in diet;
Free from grofs paffion, or of mirth, or anger;
Conftant in fpirit, not fwerving with the blood;
Garnish'd and deck'd in modeft compliment;
Not working with the eye, without the ear,
And, but in purged judgment, trufting neither?
Such, and fo finely boulted, didst thou seem :
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
To mark the full-fraught man, and best endued,
With fome fufpicion.

King Henry's Character, by the Conftable of France.
You are too much mistaken in this king:
Queftion your grace the late ambaffadors
With what great ftate he heard their embassy :
How well fupplied with noble counfellors-
How modeft in exception, and, withal,
How terrible in conftant refolution-
And you fhall find, his vanities fore-fpent
Were but the outfide of the Roman Brutus,
Covering difcretion with a coat of folly;

As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
That fall firft fpring, and be most delicate.

Defcription of a Fleet fetting Sail.
Suppofe, that you have seen
The well-appointed king at Hampton-pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave flect
With filken ftreamers the young Phoebus
ning.

The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With bufy hammers clofing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll;
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and fecure in foul,
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
The confident and over-lufty French
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tedioufly away. The poor condemned English,
Like facrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger; and their gefture fad,
Invefting lank lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Prefenteth them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghofts. 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-praife and glory on his head!
For forth he goes, and vifits all his hoft;
Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile;
And calls them-brothers, friends, and country-
Upon his royal face there is no note, [meu.
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 over-bears attaint,
With cheerful femblance, and fweet majefty;
That ev'ry wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largefs univerfal, like the fun,
His liberal eye doth give to ev'ry one,
Thawing cold fear.

The Miseries of Royalty.

O hard condition! twin-born with greatnefs, Subject to the breath of every fool, [ing! Whofe fenfe no more can feel but his own wringWhat infinite heart's-eafe muft kings neglect, That private men enjoy

?

And what have kings, that privates have not too, Save ceremony, fave general ceremony? And what art thou, thou idol ceremony What kind of god art thou, that fuffer it more Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers? fan-What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in? O ceremony, fhew me but thy worth! What is the foul of adoration?

Play with your fancies; and in them behold, Upon the hempen tackle, fhip-boys climbing: Hear the fhrill whistle, which doth order give To founds confus'd: behold the threaden fails, Borne with the invifible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms thro' the furrow'd sea, Breafting the lofty furge.

Defcription of Night in a Camp. From camp to camp, thro' the foul womb of night, The hum of either army ftilly founds, That the fix'd fentinels almost receive The fecret whispers of each other's watch: Fire anfwers fire; and through their paly flames Each battle fees the other's umber'd face: Steed threatens fteed, in high and boastful neighs, Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,

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'ft thou oft, inftead of homage fweet,
But poifon'd flatt'ry? O, be fick, great greatneis,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure.
Think'ft thou, the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?
Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Canft 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 fceptre, and the ball,

Rr

The

The fword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The enter-tiffed robe of gold and pearl,
The farfed title running 'fore the king,
The throne he fits on, nor the tide of pomp,
That beats upon the high fhore of this world-
No, not all thefe, thrice gorgeous ceremony,
Not all thefe, laid in bed majestical,
Can fleep fo foundly as the wretched flave;
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to reft, cramm'd with diftrefsful bread;
Never fees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lacquey, from the rife to fet,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elyfium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rife, and help Hyperion to his horfe;
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.

A Defcription of the miferable State of the English
Army.

Yon ifland earrions, defp'rate of their bones, Ill-favour'dly become the morning field: Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, And our air fhakes them paffing fcornfully. Big Mars feems bankrupt in their beggar'd hoft, And faintly thro' a rufty beaver peeps. Their horfemen fit like fixed candlesticks, With torch-ftaves in their hand: and the poor jades

Lob down their heads, dropping the hide and hips;

The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes,
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit
Lies foul with chew'd grafs, ftill and motionlefs;
And their executors, the knavifh crows,
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour.

King Henry's Speech before the Battle of Agincourt. He that out-lives this day, and comes fafe home,

Will ftand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And roufe him at the name of Crifpian.
He that shall live this day, and fee old-age,
Will yearly on the vigil feaft his neighbour,
And fay, To-morrow is St Crifpian!
Then will be ftip his fieeve, and thew his fears:
Old men forget; yet fhall not all forget,
But they'll remember, with advantages,
What feats they did that day: then fhall our

names,

Familiar in their mouths, as houfehold words, Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glofter, Be in their flowing cups frethly remember d.

Defeription of the Earl of York's Death. He fmil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, And, with a feeble gripe, toys, "Dear my lord, Commend my fervice to my fovereign." So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck He threw his wounded arm, and kifs'd his lips; And fo, efpous'd to death, with blood he feal'd

A teftament of noble-ending love.
The
pretty and fweet manner of it forc'd
Thofe waters from me which I would have stopp'd;
But I had not fo much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

The Mileries of War.

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Uupruned dies: her hedges even pleach'd, Like prifoners wildly over-grown with hair, Put forth diforder'd twigs: her fallow leas The darnel, hemloc, and rank fumitory, Doth root upon; while that the coulter rufts, That fhould deracinate fuch favagery: The even mead, that crft brought fweetly forth The freckled cowflip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the feythe, withal uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idlenefs; and nothing teems, But hateful docks, rough thistles, keckfies, burs, Lofing both beauty and utility.

[blocks in formation]

23. THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI. SHAKSPEARE.

A refolved ambitious Woman. FOLLOW i muft, I cannot go before,

While Glofter bears this bafe and humble
mind.

Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove thefe tedious fumbling-blocks,
And, being a woman, I will not be flack,
And fmooth my way upon their headless necks.
To play my part in fortune's pageant.

The Lord ever to be remembered.
Let never day or night unhallow'd pafs,
But fill remember what the Lord hath done.

Eleanor to the Duke of Glofter, when doing

Penance.

For, whil I think I am thy married wife, And thou a prince, protector of this land, Methinks, I fhould not thus be led along, Mail'd up in fhame, with papers on my back; And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice To fe my tears, and hear my deep-fet groans. The ruthlefs flint doth cut my tender feet; And, when I ftart, the envious people laugh, And bid me be advised how I tread.

« AnteriorContinua »