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  • Title: Henry IV, Part 2 (Quarto 1, 1600)
  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 (Quarto 1, 1600)

    Henry the fourth.
    2555There lies a dowlny feather which stirs not,
    Did he 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 diuorst
    2560So many English Kings, thy deaw from me,
    Is teares and heauy sorowes 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 where it sits,
    Which God shal guard, and put the worlds whole strength
    Into one giant arme, it shal not force,
    This lineal honor from me, this from thee
    2570Will I to mine leaue, as tis left to me. exit.
    Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.
    King Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.
    Clar. Doth the King cal?
    2575War. What would your Maiestie?
    King Why did you leaue me here alone, my lords?
    Cla. We left the prince my brother here my liege, who vn-
    dertooke to sit and watch by you.
    2580King The prince of Wales, where is he? let me see him: he
    2580.1is not here.
    War. This doore is open, he is gone this way.
    Hum. He came not through the chamber where we staide.
    2585King Where is the Crowne? who took it from my pillow?
    War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.
    King The Prince hath tane it hence, go seeke him out:
    Is he so hastie, that he doth suppose my sleepe my death?
    Finde him, my lord of Warwicke, chide him hither.
    This part of his conioynes with my disease,
    And helps to end me: see, sonnes, what things you are,
    How quickly nature falls into reuolt,
    When gold becomes her obiect?