It is too late. The life of all his blood

5.7.22606Is touched corruptibly, and his pure brain,

5.7.32607Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling house,

5.7.42608Doth by the idle comments that it makes

5.7.52609Foretell the ending of mortality.

His highness yet doth speak and holds belief

5.7.72612That, being brought into the open air,

5.7.82613It would allay the burning quality

5.7.92614Of that fell poison which assaileth him.

Let him be brought into the orchard here.

5.7.112616Doth he still rage?

Doth he still rage? He is more patient

5.7.122618Than when you left him. Even now he sung.

O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremes

5.7.142620In their continuance will not feel themselves.

5.7.152621Death, having preyed upon the outward parts,

5.7.162622Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now

5.7.172623Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds

5.7.182624With many legions of strange fantasies,

5.7.192625Which in their throng and press to that last hold

5.7.202626Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should sing.

5.7.212627I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,

5.7.222628Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,

5.7.232629And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings

5.7.242630His soul and body to their lasting rest.

Be of good comfort, Prince, for you are born

5.7.262632To set a form upon that indigest

5.7.272633Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.

Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room;

5.7.292636It would not out at windows, nor at doors.

5.7.302637There is so hot a summer in my bosom

5.7.312638That all my bowels crumble up to dust.

5.7.322639I am a scribbled form drawn with a pen

5.7.332640Upon a parchment, and against this fire

5.7.342641Do I shrink up.

Do I shrink up. How fares your majesty?

Poisoned -- ill fare! Dead, forsook, cast off.

5.7.362644And none of you will bid the winter come

5.7.372645To thrust his icy fingers in my maw,

5.7.382646Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course

5.7.392647Through my burned bosom, nor entreat the North

5.7.402648To make his bleak winds kiss my parchèd lips

5.7.412649And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much.

5.7.422650I beg cold comfort: and you are so strait

5.7.432651And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

O, that there were some virtue in my tears

5.7.452653That might relieve you.

That might relieve you. The salt in them is hot.

5.7.462655Within me is a hell, and there the poison

5.7.472656Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize

5.7.482657On unreprievable condemnèd blood.

O, I am scalded with my violent motion

5.7.502660And spleen of speed to see your majesty.

O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye.

5.7.522662The tackle of my heart is cracked and burnt,

5.7.532663And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail

5.7.542664Are turned to one thread, one little hair.

5.7.552665My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,

5.7.562666Which holds but till thy news be utterèd,

5.7.572667And then all this thou seest is but a clod

5.7.582668And module of confounded royalty.

The Dauphin is preparing hitherward,

5.7.602670Where God he knows how we shall answer him.

5.7.612671For in a night the best part of my power,

5.7.622672As I upon advantage did remove,

5.7.632673Were in the Washes all unwarily

5.7.642674Devourèd by the unexpected flood.

You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. --

5.7.662676My liege! my lord! -- But now a king, now thus.

Even so must I run on, and even so stop.

5.7.682678What surety of the world, what hope, what stay,

5.7.692679When this was now a king, and now is clay?

Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind

5.7.712681To do the office for thee of revenge,

5.7.722682And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,

5.7.732683As it on earth hath been thy servant still.

5.7.742684Now, now you stars that move in your right spheres,

5.7.752685Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths

5.7.762686And instantly return with me again

5.7.772687To push destruction and perpetual shame

5.7.782688Out of the weak door of our fainting land.

5.7.792689Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought.

5.7.802690The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

It seems you know not then so much as we.

5.7.822692The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,

5.7.832693Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin,

5.7.842694And brings from him such offers of our peace

5.7.852695As we with honor and respect may take,

5.7.862696With purpose presently to leave this war.

He will the rather do it when he sees

5.7.882698Our selves well sinewèd to our defense.

Nay, 'tis in a manner done already,

5.7.902700For many carriages he hath dispatched

5.7.912701To the seaside, and put his cause and quarrel

5.7.922702To the disposing of the Cardinal,

5.7.932703With whom yourself, myself, and other lords,

5.7.942704If you think meet, this afternoon will post

5.7.952705To consummate this business happily.

Let it be so. -- And you my noble Prince,

5.7.972707With other princes that may best be spared,

5.7.982708Shall wait upon your father's funeral.

At Worcester must his body be interred,

5.7.1002710For so he willed it.

For so he willed it. Thither shall it then,

5.7.1012712And happily may your sweet self put on

5.7.1022713The lineal state and glory of the land, [He kneels.]

5.7.1032714To whom with all submission on my knee,

5.7.1042715I do bequeath my faithful services

5.7.1052716And true subjection everlastingly.

[All kneel to Prince Henry.] And the like tender of our love we make

5.7.1072718To rest without a spot for evermore.

I have a kind soul that would give thanks,

5.7.1092720And knows not how to do it but with tears.

[They rise.] Oh let us pay the time but needful woe,

5.7.1112722Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.

5.7.1122723This England never did, nor never shall

5.7.1132724Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror

5.7.1142725But when it first did help to wound itself.

5.7.1152726Now these her princes are come home again,

5.7.1162727Come the three corners of the world in arms

5.7.1172728And we shall shock them: naught shall make us rue,

5.7.1182729If England to itself, do rest but true.