The prince will in the perfectness of time
Cast off his followers; and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,

By which his grace must mete the lives of others,
Turning past evils to advantages.

KING. 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her

comb

In the dead carrion.

Enter WESTMORELAND.

Who's here? Westmoreland?

WEST. Health to my sovereign, and new happiAdded to that that I am to deliver!

[ness

Prince John your son doth kiss your grace's hand :
Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all
Are brought to the correction of your law;
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd,
But Peace puts forth her olive every where.
The manner how this action hath been borne
Here at more leisure may your highness read,
With every course in his particular.

KING. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings

The lifting up of day.

Enter HARCOURT.

Look, here's more news.

HAR. From enemies heaven keep your majesty ; And, when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of!

The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, With a great power of English and of Scots,

Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown:
The manner and true order of the fight

This packet, please it you, contains at large.
KING. And wherefore should these good news
make me sick?

Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach and no food;
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast
And takes away the stomach; such are the rich,
That have abundance and enjoy it not.

I should rejoice now at this happy news;

And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy : O me! come near me; now I am much ill.

GLOU. Comfort, your majesty!

CLAR.

O my royal father! WEST. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself,

look up.

WAR. Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits Are with his highness very ordinary.

Stand from him, give him air; he 'll straight be well.
CLAR. No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs:
The incessant care and labour of his mind

Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in
So thin that life looks through and will break out.
GLOU. The people fear me; for they do observe
Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature:
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep and leap'd them over.

CLAR. The river haththrice flow'd, no ebb between;

And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,

Say it did so a little time before

That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. WAR. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. GLOU. This apoplexy will certain be his end. KING. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence Into some other chamber: softly, pray.

SCENE V.

Another chamber.

The KING lying on a bed: CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others in attendance.

KING. Let there be no noise made, my gentle

friends;

Unless some dull and favourable hand

Will whisper music to my weary spirit.

WOR. Call for the music in the other room. KING. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. CLAR. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. WAR. Less noise, less noise!

PRINCE.

Enter PRINCE HENRY.

Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

CLAR. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.

PRINCE. HOW now! rain within doors, and none

GLOU. He alter'd much upon the hearing it. PRINCE. If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic.

WAR. Not so much noise,

prince, speak low;

my

lords: sweet

The king your father is disposed to sleep.

CLAR. Let us withdraw into the other room. WAR. Will't please your grace to go along with us? PRINCE. NO; I will sit and watch here by the king. [Exeunt all but the PRINCE. Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow?

O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night! sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet
As he whose brow with homely biggen bound
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,

That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather which stirs not:
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my

father!

This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep
That from this golden rigol hath divorced
So many English kings. Thy due from me
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
My due from thee is this imperial crown,
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,

Which God shall guard: and put the world's whole strength

Into one giant arm, it shall not force

This lineal honour from me: this from thee

Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.

[Exit.

KING. Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!
Re-enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE,
and the rest.

CLAR. Doth the king call?

WAR. What would your majesty? How fares your grace?

KING. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords? CLAR. We left the prince my brother here, my liege, Who undertook to sit and watch by you.

KING. The Prince of Wales!

me see him :

He is not here.

WAR. This door is

Where is he? let

open; he is gone this way.

GLOU. He came not through the chamber where

we stay'd.

KING. Where is the crown? who took it from

my pillow?

WAR. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. KING. The prince hath ta'en it hence: go, seek

him out.

Is he so hasty that he doth suppose

My sleep my death?

Find him, my Lord of Warwick; chide him hither.

[Exit WARWICK.

This part of his conjoins with my disease,

And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are!