University of Virginia Library

ACT. IV.

SCENE I.

Enter King follow'd by Gower.
King.
If my Son Gloucester be not gone to
Rest, let him attend us.

Gow.
My Lord I shall

[Exit.
King
Solus.
How many Thousands of my meanest Subjects
Are at this Hour in Sleep—O! gentle Sleep;
Natures soft Nurse, How have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my Eyelids down,
And steep my Senses in Forgetfulness?
Why rather dost thou dwell in smoaky Cottages,
Upon uneasie Pallads stretching Thee;
And hush'd with buzzing Night Flies to thy Rest.
Than in the Perfum'd Chambers of the Great?
Under the Canopies of Tyrian Purple,
And lull'd with Sounds of melting Melody.
Wilt thou upon the high and shaking Mast,
Seal up the Sea-Boys Eyes and rock his Brain,
In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge?
Can'st thou, O! partial Sleep, give thy Repose
To the drench'd Sailor, in an Hour so rude
And in the calmest, and the stillest Night;
Deny it to a King that Courts thy Charm.
O! the sharp Thorns that interline a Crown,
Banish the Nurse of Nature from my Breast.

Enter Clarence, Gloucester, Gower, and Gentlemen.
Glo.
Health and many Days attend your Majesty.

King.
Gloucester my Son; Where is the Prince of Wales?

Glou.
I think he's gone to Hunt at Windsor Sir.

King.
And how Accompanyed?

Glou.
I know not Sir.

King.
Is not his Brother Clarence with him?

Glou.
No Sir, he's in the Presence here.

Cla.
What would my Lord and Father?

King.
Why art thou absent from the Prince thy Brother?
He Loves thee, and thou dost neglect him Clarence:
Thou hast a better Place in his Affection
Than all thy Brothers have: Blunt not his Love,
Nor lose the good Advantage of his Grace,
By seeming Cold, and careless of his Favour.
For he is Gracious if he be Observ'd;
He has 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 suddain
As nipping Frosts are in the Spring of Day.
His Temper therefore must be well Observ'd:
Tell him his Faults, but do it Prudently,
When you perceive his Blood inclin'd to Mirth.
But when he's Angry, give him Line and Scope,
Till his wild Passions (like a Whale on Ground)
Tire themselves with working. Learn this Clarence
And thou wilt prove a shelter to thy Friends,
A Hoop of Gold to bind thy Brothers in,
That the united Vessel of their Blood
(Mingled with Venome of Suggestion)
Shall never Leak, tho' it do Work as strong,
As Aconite, or as fir'd Gun-Powder.

Cla.
I shall observe him with all Care and Love.

King.
Why are you not at Windsor with him?

Cla.
He is not there, he Dines in London.

King.
Who Dines he with?

Cla.
With Pointz and Others, his continual followers.

King.
Most subject is the fattest Soyl to Weeds,
And he in the Luxuriant wantonness of Youth
Is overspread with 'em: Therefore my Grief
Stretches it self beyond the Hour of Death,
The Blood Weeps from my Heart when I do Shape
(In Forms imaginary) th' unguarded Days,
And rotten Times that you shall look upon,
When I am Sleeping with my Ancestors.
For when his Head-strong Ryot has no Curb;
When Rage and hot Blood are his Counsellors,
When means and lavish Manners meet together,
O! with what Wings shall his Affections fly
To all the Perils of Licentiousness.

Glost.
My gracious Lord you look beyond him quite,
The Prince has study'd his Companions
Like a strange Tongue, wherein to gain the Language
'Tis needful that the most immodest Word
Be plainly understood; which once attain'd
Your Highness knows, serves to no farther Use
But to be known and Hated.
So will the Prince in perfectness of Time
Cast off his Followers; and his past Deeds
Shall in his Memory, like a ballance Live;
With which his Grace will weigh the Lives of others,
Turning past Evils to Advantages.

King.
Heaven grant it proves so.
Enter Westmorland.
Who's here? My Lord of Westmorland?

West.
Health to my Sovereign, and new Happiness
Added to that which I am to deliver.
Prince John your Son kisses your Royal Hand.
Mowbray, the Bishop, Scroop, Hastings and all,
Are brought to the Correction of the Law;
There is not now a Rebels Sword unsheath'd,
But Peace put's forth her Olive ev'ry where;
The manner how this Action has been manag'd:
Here at more leisure may your Highness read
In each particular.

King.
O! Westmorland? Thou art a Summer Bird,
Which ever in approaching Winter Sings
The lifting up of Day—But here's more News?

Enter Cambridge.
Cam.
From Enemies Heaven keep your Majesty,
And when they rise against you, may they fall
As those that I am come to tell you off.
The Earl Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolfe,
With a great Pow'r of English and of Scots,
Are by the Sheriff of Yorkshire Over-thrown,
The Manner how, this Letter will Inform you.

King.
And wherefore should this good News make me Sick?
Will Fortune never come with both Hands full?
She either gives an Appetite, and no Food,
(Such are the Poor in Health) or else a Feast
And takes away the Appetite (such are the Rich
Who have abundance and enjoy it not)
I should rejoice now at this happy News,
But my Sight fails me, and my Brain is giddy
Come near; I am very Ill.

[The King faints]
Glo.
How does your Majesty?

Cla.
My Royal Father!

West.
Be patient Princes you all know these Fits
Are with his Majesty familiar:
Stand from him, give him Air, he'll strait be well.

Cla.
No, no, he cannot long hold out.
Th' incessant Care, and labour of his Mind
Has wrought the Frame that should Confine it in
So thin, that Life looks thro' and will break out.

Glo.
The River has Thrice flow'd, no Ebb between
And Aged Men (Time's doting Chronicles)
Say it did so a little time before,
That our Great Grandsire, Edward Sick'd and Dy'd.

West.
Speak lower Princes, for the King recovers.

King.
Pray bear me hence,
And lay me on my Bed—Softly I pray,
And let there be no Noise,
Unless some kind, and favourable Hand
Will whisper Musick to my weary Spirit.

West.
Call for the Musick in the other Room.

King.
And set the Crown upon my Pillow by me

He is laid on the Bed.
Cla.
His Eyes are hollow, and he changes much.

West.
Pray let there be no Noise.

[Soft Musick.
Enter Prince Harry.
Prin.
Who saw the Duke of Clarence?

Cla.
I am here, Brother, full of Heaviness.

Prin.
How does the King?

Cla.
Exceeding Ill.

Prin.
Heard he the good News yet?

Glo.
Yes, my Lord, and alter'd much upon the hearing it.

Cla.
He is dispos'd to Sleep,
Let us withdraw into the other Room.

West.
Wil't please your Grace to go along with us?

Prin.
No, I'll sit down, and watch here by the King.
Why does the Crown lye there upon his Pillow?
Being so troublesome a Bed-fellow?
O! Thou inticing Bait! thou Golden Care!
With what Anxiety most Monarchs wear Thee!
How sound he Sleeps—Ha! by his Gates of Breath
There lyes a downy Feather, and it stirs not,
Sure did he Breath, 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 Circle has Devorc'd
So many English Kings. Thy due from me
Is Tears and heavy Sorrows for thy Death,
Which Nature, Love, and filial Tenderness
Shall (O dear Father!) pay thee plenteously.
My due from thee, is this imperial Crown,
Justly deriv'd to me, which Heaven shall Guard,
And put the World's Strength in one Gyant Arm,
It shall not force this lineal Honour from me;
This will I leave to mine, as it was left to me.

[Exit.
[The King wakes and calls.]
King.
Westmorland, Gloucester, Clarence.

Enter Westmorland, Gloucester, Clarence, and Gower.
Cla.
Does the King call?

West.
How fares your Majesty?

King.
Why did you leave me here alone?

Cla.
We left the Prince my Brother here,
Who undertook to sit and Watch by you.

King.
The Prince of Wales? Where is he? Let me see him.

West.
This Door is open, he's gone this way.

King.
Where is the Crown? Who took it from my Pillow?

West.
We left it here my Liege when we withdrew.

King.
The Prince has ta'en it hence. Go seek for him. Lend me your Hands.
Is he so hasty, that he does suppose
My Sleep my Death? Find him my Lord of Warwick
And bring him hither. This Act of his Conspires
With my Disease, and helps to End me sooner.
See Sons what things you are?
How quickly Nature falls into Revolt,
When Gold becomes her Object.
For this the Foolish over-careful Fathers
Have broke their Sleeps with Thought,
Their Brains with Care; their Limbs with Industry,
For this they have been busie to Instruct
Their Sons in Arts, and Martial Exercises:
When like the Bee, culling from every Flower
The vertuous Sweets; our Thighs loaded with Wax,
Our Mouths with Honey; we bring it to the Hive,
And like the Bees, are Murther'd for our Pains.
Enter Westmorland.
Where is the Prince, who could not stay so long
'Till his good Friend Sickness had Ended me?

West.
I found the Prince my Lord in the next Room,
Washing with kindly Tears his youthful Cheeks,
With such an inward, deep and settled Sorrow,
That the most Cruel would have pitty'd him.
He's coming to your Majesty.

King.
But wherefore did he take the Crown away?
Enter Prince Harry.
Come hither Harry.
Depart the Chamber, leave us here alone.

[Exeunt.
Prin.
I never thought to hear you Speak again.

King.
Thy Wish was Father (Harry) to that Thought.
I stay too long with thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for my empty Throne,
That thou wilt needs Invest thee with my Honours
Before the Hour is come? O foolish Youth!
Thou seek'st that Greatness that will over-whelm thee.
Stay but a little, for my Cloud of Dignity
Is held from falling, with so weak a Wind
That it will quickly drop. My Day is dim,
Thou hast stol'n that which after some few Hours,
Were thine without Offence.
Thy Life did manifest thou Lov'st me not,
And thou wilt have me Dye assur'd of it.
Thou had'st a thousand Daggers in thy Thoughts,
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony Heart,
To Stab at half an Hour of my Life.
What! can'st thou not forbear me half an Hour?
Then get thee gone, and dig my Grave thy self;
And bid the merry Bells Ring to thy Ears,
That thou art Crown'd, and not that I am Dead.

Prin.
You strike me to the Heart.

King.
Nay, hear me out.
Compound me only with forgotten Dust;
Give that which gave thee Life unto the Worms;
Pluck down my Officers; break my Decrees,
For now the Time is come to mock at Form.
Henry the Vth. is Crown'd! Up Vanity;
Down State; all my sage Counsellors hence,
And to the English Court assemble now
From every Region, Apes of Idleness.
Your Neighb'ring Nations purge you of your Scum:
If you've a Ruffian that will Swear, Drink, Dice,
Revel all Night, Rob, Murder, and commit
The oldest Sins, the newest kind of Ways.
England shall give him Favour, Office, Honours,
For the Vth, Henry, from curb'd Licence plucks
The Muzzel of Restraint which held 'em in.
O my poor Kingdom! (Sick with Civil Wars)
When all my Care could not with-hold thy Riot,
What wilt thou do when Riot is thy Business?
Oh! thou wilt be a Wilderness again,
Peopled with Wolves thy old Inhabitants.

Prin.
O Pardon me my Liege!
But for my Tears impediments to my Speech,
I had forestall'd this Dear, and deep Rebuke,
E're you (with Grief) had spoke, and I had heard
The Course of it so far: There is your Crown,
And he who wears the Crown Immortal,
Long Guard it yours. When I here came in
I found no Sign of Breath within your Majesty,
How cold it struck my Heart! If I do feign,
O! let me in my present wildness Dye?
And never live to shew th' incredulous World,
The noble Change which I have purposed.
Coming to look on you, thinking you Dead
I spoke unto the Crown as having Sense,
And thus upbraided it: The care on thee depending
Has fed upon the Life blood of my Father,
And eat thy Wearer up. Thus my Royal Liege
Accusing it, I put it on my Head
To try with it (as with an Enemy
That had before my Face Murder'd my Father)
The quarel of a true Inheritor.
But if it did infect my Blood with Joy,
Let Heav'n for ever keep it from my Head,
And make me as the poorest Vassal is,
Who does with Awe and Terror kneel to it.

King.
O my Son!
Heaven put it in thy Mind to take it hence,
That thou might'st win the more thy Fathers Love,
Pleading so wisely in Excuse of it.
Come hither Harry, and sit down by me,
And hear I think the very latest Council
That ever I shall Breath: Heaven knows my Son
By what by-paths, indirect croked Ways
I met this Crown, and I my self know best,
How painfully it sat upon my Head.
To thee it shall Descend with greater Ease,
Better Opinion, better Confirmation:
For all the stain of the Atchievment goes
With me into the Earth. It seem'd to me
But as an Honour snatch'd with boist'rous Hand;
And I had many living to Upbraid,
My Gain of it by their Assistances.
Yet though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, for Griefs are Green.
And not a few
Have both their Stings and Teeth newly ta'en out,
By whose fell working I was first Advanc'd,
And by whose Pow'r I well might lodge a Fear,
To be again Displac'd: Which to prevent
I cut them off. Therefore my Harry
Be it thy Art to busie giddy Minds
With foreign Quarels: The Action hence remov'd,
May wast the Memory of the former Days.
More would I, but my Lungs are wasted so,
That strength of Speech is utterly deny'd me.
How I came by the Crown, O! Heav'n forgive,
And grant it may with thee much better Prosper.

Prin.
You won it, wore it, kept, and gave it me,
Which I with more, than common Fortitude,
'Gainst all the World will rightfully Maintain.

Enter Prince John and Westmorland.
King.
Look, here's my Son, my John of Lancaster.

P. Jo.
Health, Peace and Happiness to my Royal Father.

King.
Thou bring'st me Happiness indeed Son John,
But Health, alas! with youthful Wings is flown
From this bare, aged Trunk. Upon thy sight
All worldly Business makes a Period.
Does any Name particular belong,
Unto that Lodging where I first did Swoon?

West.
'Tis call'd Jerusalem my Lord.

King.
Heav'n be prais'd for there my Life must end,
It has been Prophesy'd of me many Years,
I should not Dye but in Jerusalem,
Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land.
But bear me to that Chamber, there I'll lye
In that Jerusalem shall Harry Dye.

Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Silence, Bardolfe, Boy, and Davy.
Shal.

Nay, you shall see my Orchard, where in
an Arbour you shall eat a last Year's Pippin of my
own Grafting, with a Dish of Carraways and so
forth: Come Cousin Silence, and then to Bed.

Fal.

You have here a goodly Dwelling and a Rich.

Sha.

Barren, barren, Beggars all, meer Beggers Sir
John, Marry, good Air. Come Davy, well done
Davy.

Fal.

This Davy serves for more Uses than One,

he's your Serving-Man, and your Husband-Man.

Sha.

A good Varlet, a good Varlet Sir John; I
have Drank too much Sack at Supper. A very good
Varlet. Now sit down, sit down, come Cousin.

Sil.

Sit quoth—a—We shall do nothing,

(Sings)

Fal.

There's a merry Heart indeed good Mr. Silence;
Come here's your Health for it.

Sha.

Good Mr. Bardolfe your Hand, some Wine
Davy; be Merry Mr. Bardolfe, and my little Soldier
there.

Sil.
[Sings
Be Merry, be Merry, my Wife has all,
For Women are Shrews, both Short and Tall,
'Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wag all;
And welcome merry Shrovetide.

Be Merry, I say be Merry.

Fal.

I did not think Mr. Silence had been a Man
of so much Mettle.

Sil.

Who I? I have been Merry twice and once
e're now.

Dav.

There's a Dish of Pippins for you.

Sha.

Davy.

Dav.

Says your Worship? I'll be with you
straight, a Cup of Wine Sir.

Si.
[Sings.
Ay, a Cup of Wine, that's brisk and fine,
And Drink unto the Leman Mine,
And a Merry Heart Lives long a—

Fal.

Well said Mr. Silence.

Sil.
[Sings.
If we shall be Merry, now's the Time,
In the Sweet of the Night,
Comes the truest Delight,
And a merry Heart, Lives long a—

Fal.

Then Health, and long Life to you Mr. Silence.

Sil.

Fill the Cup and let it come. I'll pledge you
wer't a Mile to the bottom.

Sha.

Honest Bardolfe welcome. If thou want'st
any thing and wilt not call, beshrew thy Heart.
Welcome my little tiney Thief, welcome indeed
too. I'll drink to Mr. Bardolfe, and all the Cavalier's
about London.

Dav.

A! I hope to see London once e'er I dye.

Bar.

If I might see thee there honest Davy?

Sha.

You'll crack a Quart together, ha, will you
not Mr. Bardolfe?

Bar.

Yes Sir in a Pottle-pot.

Sha.

I thank thee, the Knave will stick by you,
I can tell you that, he's no Flincher, he's true bred.

Bar.

And I'll stick by him Sir.

Sha.

There spoke a King, lack nothing, be Merry
I say. [Knocking without.]
Look who's at Door
there, ho! Look who knocks.

[Exit Davy.
Fal.

Why now you have done me right Mr. Silence.

Sil.

Do me right, and Dub me Knight,
Samingo, Samingo.

[Is't not so?]
Fal.

'Tis so.

Sil.

Is it? Why then say an old Man can do
something.

[Enter Davy.]
Dav.

If't please your Worship, there's one Pistol
come from the Court with News.

Fal.
From Court, let him come in.
Enter Pistol.
Now Pistol, What News are you Charg'd with?

Pist.

Save you Sir John?

Fal.

What Wind blew you hither Pistol?

Pist.

Not an ill Wind which blows no body good.
My Knight thou art now one of the greatest Men in
this Realm.

Sil.

Indeed I think he is but goodman Puff of
Barson.

Pist.

Puff in thy Teeth most recreant Coward;
base! Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy Friend.
Helter skelter have I rode to thee, and Tydings do
I bring, and lucky Joys, and golden Times, and
happy News of Peace.

Fal.

I prithee then deliver 'em like a Man of this
World.

Pist.

A Pin's-head for the World, and Worldlings
base, I speak of Africa, and golden Joys.

Fal.
O base Assyrian Knight! What is thy News?
Let King Covitha know the Truth of it.

Sil.
And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and little John.

Pist.
Shall dunghil Currs confront with Hellicon?
And shall good News be baffled?
Then Pistol lay thy Head in Furies Lap.

Sha.

Honest Gentleman I know not what you
mean.

Pist.

Why then Lament therefore.

Sha.

Pardon me Sir, if you come with News from
Court? There is but two Ways I take it, in telling
'em, either to utter 'em, or to Conceal 'em—I am
Sir under the King in some Authority.

Pist.

Under which King, Bezonian? Speak, or Dye!

Sha.

Under King Harry, Sir.

Pist.

Harry the IVth. or Vth.

Sha.

Harry the IVth.

Pist.

A Fig then for thy Office—Sir John,
thy tender Lamb-kin now is King. Harry the
Vth's the Man; I speak the Truth. When Pistol
lyes, do this, and Figg me like the Spaniard.

Fal.

How! is the old King Dead?

Pist.

As Nail in Door; the Thing I speak is Just.

Fal.

Away Bardolfe Saddle my Horse. Mr. Shallow
chose what Office thou wilt, and 'tis thine. Pistol
for thy good News, I will doubly charge thee
with Dignities.

Bar.

O joyful News! I would not take a Knighthood
for my Fortune.

Fal.

Carry Mr. Silence to Bed, he's fast a Sleep.
Mr. Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt.
I am Fortune's Steward. My Horse, we'll ride all
Night. Boot Mr. Shallow, Boot; I know the young
King is Sick for me, take any Man's Horses, the
Laws of England are at my Command now, happy
are they who have been Friends to Falstaff; and
Woe to my Lord Chief Justice.

[Exeunt
Enter Westmorland, and Lord Chief Justice.
C. Just.
How is the King my Lord?

West.
Exceeding well, his Cares are now all ended.

C. Just.
Then he's Dead indeed.

West.
He's Walk'd the way of Nature:
He Lives no more for us.

C. Just.
I would his Majesty had took me with him
The Service that I truly did his Life,
Has left me open to all Injuries.

West.
Indeed, I think the young King Loves you not.

C. Just.
I know he does not, and I Arm my self
To welcome the Condition of the Time.

Enter Prince John, Gloucester and Clarence.
West.
Here comes the heavy Issue of dead Harry.
O! That the living Harry had the Temper,
Even of worst of these three Gentlemen!
How many Noblemen should hold their Places;
That must strike Sail now to the vilest Spirits.

C. Just.
A las! I fear all will be Overturn'd.

P. Jo.
Good morrow Cousin Westmorland.

C. J. West.
Good morning to your Graces.

P. Jo.

We meet like Men who had forgot to speak.

West.
Our Argument's too heavy for much Talk.

Glo.
O my good Lord! you have lost a Friend indeed,
And I dare swear you borrow not that Face
Of seeming Sorrow; No, it is your own.

P. Jo.
Tho' no Man be assur'd what Grace to find,
You stand in coldest Expectation:
I am the Sorrier; would 'twere otherwise.

Cla.
Now we must all Speak Sir John Falstaff fair,
Tho' much against the grain of our high Blood.

C. Just.
Sweet Princes, what I did, I did in Honour,
Led by the impartial Conduct of my Soul;
And you shall never see that I will beg,
A ragged and forestall'd Remission.
If Truth, and upright Innocency fail me,
I'll to the King (my Master) who is Dead,
And let him know who sent me after him.

West.
Peace, here comes the King.

Enter Prince Harry.
All.
Good morrow, and Heaven bless your Majesty.

Pri.
This new and gorgeous Garment Majesty,
Sits not so easie on me as you think.
Brothers you mix your Sadness with some Fear;
But you have Reason to be Sad (my Brothers)
And to speak Truth it very well becomes you.
Sorrow so Royally in you appears,
That I will deeply put the Purple on,
And wear it in my Heart. Why then be sad;
But entertain no more of it, (good Brothers)
Then aj oynt Burthen laid upon us all.
For I sincerely bid you be assur'd,
I'll be your Father, and your Brother too:
Then let me have your Loves, I'll bear your Cares:
Then Weep that Harry's Dead, and so will I;
But Harry Lives, who will convert those Tears
By number, into Hours of Happiness.

P Jo.
We hope no other from your Majesty.

Prin.
Still all look strangely on me, and you most,
You are I think assured, I Love you not.

C. Just.
I am assured, if I am Measur'd rightly,
Your Majesty has no just Cause to Hate me.

Prin.
No! How can a Prince forget
Those great Indignities, you laid upon me.
What! to Rebuke and roughly send to Prison,
Th' immediate Heir of England? Was this easie?
May this be wash'd in Lethe and forgotten?

C. Just.
I then did use the Person of your Father,
The Image of his Pow'r lay then in me,
And in the Administration of the Law;
While I was busie for the Common-wealth,
Your Grace was pleas'd so to forget my Place,
The Majesty, the Power of Law and Justice;
The Image of the King whom I presented,
And stroke me in my very Seat of Judgment:
Whereon (as an Offender to your Father)
I gave free way to my Authority,
And did commit you. If the Deed were Ill,
Question your Royal Thoughts, make the Case yours
Think you the Father of a Prince, (your Son)
Hear your own Dignity so much Prophan'd,
See your own dreaded Laws so losely slighted;
Behold your self so by a Son Disdain'd,
And then imagine me taking your Part,
And in your Place doing Justice on your Son:
After this cold Consideration, Sentence me.
As you're a Just, and lawful King, now tell me,
What I have done that mis-became my Place,
My Person, or my Leiges Soveraignty?

Prin.
My Lord Chief Justice, you have weigh'd it well;
Therefore still bear the Ballance, and the Sword,
And I do wish your Honours may encrease,
'Till you do live to see a Son of mine
Offend you, and Obey you as I did:
So shall I Live to speak my Fathers Words.
Happy am I to have a Man so Bold,
Who dares do Justice on my proper Son;
And no less Happy having such a Son,
That would deliver up his Greatness so,
Into the Hands of Justice. You did commit me,
For which I do commit into your Hand
The unstain'd Sword which you have us'd to bear,
With this remembrance, that you use it still,
With the like Bold, Just, and impartial Spirit
As you have done 'gainst me.

C. Just.
My Gracious Sovereign,
When I do ought that mis-becomes my Place,
The Honour and the Pow'r you Trust me with,
Let all good Men Despise me.

Prin.
There's my Hand,
You shall be as a Father to my Youth;
My Voice shall Sound as you shall Prompt my Ear,
And I will stoop and humble my Intents,
To your well-practis'd wise Directions.
And Princes all believe me, I beseech you.
My Father is departed to his Grave,
And with his Spirit sadly I survive,
To mock the expectation of the World.
I own my Friends the Spring-tide in my Blood,
Has proudly Flow'd in Vanity till now;
But now it turns and Ebbs back to the Sea,
Where it shall mingle with the mighty Floods,
And flow henceforth in formal Majesty.
Now call we our High Court of Parliament,
And let us chose such Limbs of noble Council,
That the great Body of our State may go
In equal Rank, with the best Govern'd Nations:
That Peace, or rugged War, at once may be,
As Things acquainted, and familiar to us.
Our Coronation done; it shall appear
No Prince or Peer, shall have just Cause to say,
Heaven shorten Harry's happy Life one Day.

[Exeunt.