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  • Title: Henry IV, Part 2 (Folio 1 1623)
  • Editor: Rosemary Gaby

  • Copyright Rosemary Gaby. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Rosemary Gaby
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Henry IV, Part 2 (Folio 1 1623)

    The second Part of King Henry the Fourth.
    2515War. Speake lower (Princes) for the King reco-
    Glo. This Apoplexie will (certaine) be his end.
    King. I pray you take me vp, and beare me hence
    Into some other Chamber: softly 'pray.
    2520Let there be no noyse made (my gentle friends)
    Vnlesse some dull and fauourable hand
    Will whisper Musicke to my wearie Spirit.
    War. Call for the Musicke in the other Roome.
    King. Set me the Crowne vpon my Pillow here.
    2525Clar. His eye is hollow, and hee changes much.
    War. Lesse noyse, lesse noyse.

    Enter Prince Henry.

    P. Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence?
    Clar. I am here (Brother) full of heauinesse.
    2530P. Hen. How now? Raine within doores, and none
    abroad? How doth the King?
    Glo. Exceeding ill.
    P. Hen. Heard hee the good newes yet?
    Tell it him.
    2535Glo. Hee alter'd much, vpon the hearing it.
    P. Hen. If hee be sicke with Ioy,
    Hee'le recouer without Physicke.
    War. Not so much noyse (my Lords)
    Sweet Prince speake lowe,
    2540The King, your Father, is dispos'd to sleepe.
    Clar. Let vs with-draw into the other Roome.
    War. Wil't please your Grace to goe along with vs?
    P. Hen. No: I will sit, and watch here, by the King.
    Why doth the Crowne lye there, vpon his Pillow,
    2545Being so troublesome a Bed-fellow?
    O pollish'd Perturbation! Golden Care!
    That keep'st the Ports of Slumber open wide,
    To many a watchfull Night: sleepe with it now,
    Yet not so sound, and halfe so deepely sweete,
    2550As hee whose Brow (with homely Biggen bound)
    Snores out the Watch of Night. O Maiestie!
    When thou do'st pinch thy Bearer, thou do'st sit
    Like a rich Armor, worne in heat of day,
    That scald'st with safetie: by his Gates of breath,
    2555There lyes a dowlney feather, which stirres not:
    Did hee suspire, that light and weightlesse dowlne
    Perforce must moue. My gracious Lord, my Father,
    This sleepe is sound indeede: this is a sleepe,
    That from this Golden Rigoll hath diuorc'd
    2560So many English Kings. Thy due, from me,
    Is Teares, and heauie Sorrowes of the Blood,
    Which Nature, Loue, and filiall tendernesse,
    Shall (O deare Father) pay thee plenteously.
    My due, from thee, is this Imperiall Crowne,
    2565Which (as immediate from thy Place, and Blood)
    Deriues it selfe to me. Loe, heere it sits,
    Which Heauen shall guard:
    And put the worlds whole strength into one gyant Arme,
    It shall not force this Lineall Honor from me.
    2570This, from thee, will I to mine leaue,
    As 'tis left to me.

    Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.

    King. Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.
    Clar. Doth the King call?
    2575War. What would your Maiestie? how fares your

    King. Why did you leaue me here alone (my Lords?)
    Cla. We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege)
    Who vndertooke to sit and watch by you.
    2580King. The Prince of Wales? where is hee? let mee
    see him.
    War. This doore is open, hee is gone this way.
    Glo. Hee came not through the Chamber where wee
    2585King. Where is the Crowne? who tooke it from my
    War. When wee with-drew (my Liege) wee left it
    King. The Prince hath ta'ne it hence:
    2590Goe seeke him out.
    Is hee so hastie, that hee doth suppose
    My sleepe, my death? Finde him (my Lord of Warwick)
    Chide him hither: this part of his conioynes
    With my disease, and helpes to end me.
    2595See Sonnes, what things you are:
    How quickly Nature falls into reuolt,
    When Gold becomes her Obiect?
    For this, the foolish ouer-carefull Fathers
    Haue broke their sleepes with thoughts,
    2600Their braines with care, their bones with industry.
    For this, they haue ingrossed and pyl'd vp
    The canker'd heapes of strange-atchieued Gold:
    For this, they haue beene thoughtfull, to inuest
    Their Sonnes with Arts, and Martiall Exercises:
    2605When, like the Bee, culling from euery flower
    The vertuous Sweetes, our Thighes packt with Wax,
    Our Mouthes with Honey, wee bring it to the Hiue;
    And like the Bees, are murthered for our paines.
    This bitter taste yeelds his engrossements,
    2610To the ending Father.
    Enter Warwicke.
    Now, where is hee, that will not stay so long,
    Till his Friend Sicknesse hath determin'd me?
    War. My Lord, I found the Prince in the next Roome,
    2615Washing with kindly Teares his gentle Cheekes,
    With such a deepe demeanure, in great sorrow,
    That Tyranny, which neuer quafft but blood,
    Would (by beholding him) haue wash'd his Knife
    With gentle eye-drops. Hee is comming hither.
    2620King. But wherefore did hee take away the Crowne?
    Enter Prince Henry.
    Loe, where hee comes. Come hither to me (Harry.)
    Depart the Chamber, leaue vs heere alone.
    P. Hen. I neuer thought to heare you speake againe.
    2625King. Thy wish was Father (Harry) to that thought:
    I stay too long by thee, I wearie thee.
    Do'st thou so hunger for my emptie Chayre,
    That thou wilt needes inuest thee with mine Honors,
    Before thy howre be ripe? O foolish Youth!
    2630Thou seek'st the Greatnesse, that will ouer-whelme thee.
    Stay but a little: for my Cloud of Dignitie
    Is held from falling, with so weake a winde,
    That it will quickly drop: my Day is dimme.
    Thou hast stolne that, which after some few howres
    2635Were thine, without offence: and at my death
    Thou hast seal'd vp my expectation.
    Thy Life did manifest, thou lou'dst me not,
    And thou wilt haue me dye assur'd of it.
    Thou hid'st a thousand Daggers in thy thoughts,
    2640Which thou hast whetted on thy stonie heart,
    To stab at halfe an howre of my Life.
    What? canst thou not forbeare me halfe an howre?