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And nothing can we call our own but death :
And that small model of the barren earth ,
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For hear'n's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of Kings;
How some have been depos’d; some slaiu in war;
Some haunted by the ghost they dispossess'd ;
Some poison'd by their wives; some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd-For within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a King,
Keeps death his court; and there the antick sits
Scoffing his state , and grinning at his pomp ;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks:
Infusing him with self and vain conceit
As if this flesh which walks about our life
Were brass impregnable ; and humour'd thus ,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores thro' his castle walls, and farewel King!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence : trow away respect
Tradition, form , aud ceremonious duty,

have but mistook me all this while. I live on bread like


feel want like Taste grief, need friends, like you subjected thus, How can you say to me I am a King ?


Hotspur and Glendower, Glen S., cousin Percy ; sit , good cousin Hots

pur ; For by that name, as oft as Lancaster Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale! and with A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heav'n.

Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glen. I blame him not : at my nativity The front of heav'n was full of fiery shapes,

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you :

Of burning cressets ; know that at my birth
The frame of the foundation of the earth
Shook like a coward.

Hot. So it would have done
At the same season if your mother's cat
Had kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.
Glen. I say, the earth did shake when I was

born. Hot. I say, the earth then was not of my mind, If you suppose, as fearing you it shook. Glen. The heav'ns were all on fire, the earth

did tremble. Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heav'ns

on fire!


And not in fear of your nativity.
Diseased nature often times breaks forth
In strange eruptions ; and the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vex'd ,
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
Within her womb, which, for enlargement strira

ing ,
Shakes the olb beldame earth, and topples down
High tow'rs and moss-grown steeples. At your
Our grandam earth with this distemperature
In passion shook.

Glen. Cousin , of niany men
I do not bear these crossings : give me leave
To tell you once again, that at my

The front of heav'n was full of fiery shapes ;
The goats ran from the monntains, and the herds
Were strangely clam'rous in the frighted fields :
These signs have mark’d'me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipt in with the sea
That chides the banks of England, Wales, o

Who calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
And bring him out , that is but woman's son,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,

Or hold me pace in deep experiments.
Hot. I think there is no man speaks better

Glen. I can speak English, Lord, as well as you,
For I was



in the English court : Where , being young, I framed to the harp Many an English ditty lovely well. And gave the tongue a helpful ornament; A virtue that was never seen in you. Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my

heart; I'd rather be a kitten , and cry mew; Than one of these same metre ballad mongers ! I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd, Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree , And that would nothing set my teeth on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry ; 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag. Glen.

And I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Hot. Why, so can I, or so can any man : But will they come when you do call for them? Glen. Why, I can teach thee to command the

devil. Hot. And I can teach thee , coz, to shame the

devil, By telling truth; Tell truth and shame the devil..-. If thou hast pow'r to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn I've pow'r to shame him hence. Oh, while you live, Tell truth and shame the devil


CHA P. X V. Hotspur reading a letter. Bur for mine own part, my Lord, I « could be well contented to be there in res

pect of the love I bear your house." He could be coniended to be there ; why is he not then? In respect of the love he bears our house!” He shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. “ The purpose you undertake is dangerous. Why , that is certain : it is dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink : but I tell you , my Lord fool, out of this nettle danger we pluck this flower safely. “The purpose you To undertake is dangerous, the friends you have " named uncertain , the time itself unsorted, " and your whole plot too light for the counter“ poise of so great an opposition.” Say you so ! say you so ! I say imto you again , you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this ! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid, our friends true and constant : a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation : an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue this is ? Why, my Lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal , could brain him with his Lady's fan. Are there not my faher, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower ? Is there not, besides the Lord Douglas ? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month? and are there not some of them set forward already?

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What a Pagan rascal is this ! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets , for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will set forward to-night.


CH A P. X V I.

Henry IV's Soliloquy on Sleep. How many thousands of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness ! Why rather, Sleep, lay'st thou in smoaky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber; 'Than in the perfum' chacubers of the Great, Under the canopies of costly state , And lulld with sounds of sweetest melody ? O thou dull God, why lay'st thou with the vile In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch A watch-case to a common taurum-beil ? Wilt thou , upon the high and giddy mast , Seal up the spip-boy's eyes, and rock his brains, In cradle of the rude imperious snrge ; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaf oing clamours in the slipp'ry, shrouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes : Canst'thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And, in the calmest and stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot,

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