1    Now, lords, if God doth give successful end
2    To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
3    We will our youth lead on to higher fields
4    And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
5    Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
6    Our substitutes in absence well invested,
7    And every thing lies level to our wish:
8    Only, we want a little personal strength;
9    And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
10   Come underneath the yoke of government.

11   Both which we doubt not but your majesty
12   Shall soon enjoy.

13   Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,
14   Where is the prince your brother?

15   I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.

16   And how accompanied?

17   I do not know, my lord.

18   Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?

19   No, my good lord; he is in presence here.

20   What would my lord and father?

21   Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
22   How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother?
23   He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
24   Thou hast a better place in his affection
25   Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy,
26   And noble offices thou mayst effect
27   Of mediation, after I am dead,
28   Between his greatness and thy other brethren:
29   Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love,
30   Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
31   By seeming cold or careless of his will;
32   For he is gracious, if he be observed:
33   He hath a tear for pity and a hand
34   Open as day for melting charity:
35   Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he's flint,
36   As humorous as winter and as sudden
37   As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
38   His temper, therefore, must be well observed:
39   Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
40   When thou perceive his blood inclined to mirth;
41   But, being moody, give him line and scope,
42   Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
43   Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,
44   And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,
45   A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,
46   That the united vessel of their blood,
47   Mingled with venom of suggestion--
48   As, force perforce, the age will pour it in--
49   Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
50   As aconitum or rash gunpowder.

51   I shall observe him with all care and love.

52   Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?

53   He is not there to-day; he dines in London.

54   And how accompanied? canst thou tell that?

55   With Poins, and other his continual followers.

56   Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;
57   And he, the noble image of my youth,
58   Is overspread with them: therefore my grief
59   Stretches itself beyond the hour of death:
60   The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape
61   In forms imaginary the unguided days
62   And rotten times that you shall look upon
63   When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
64   For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
65   When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
66   When means and lavish manners meet together,
67   O, with what wings shall his affections fly
68   Towards fronting peril and opposed decay!

69   My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite:
70   The prince but studies his companions
71   Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language,
72   'Tis needful that the most immodest word
73   Be look'd upon and learn'd; which once attain'd,
74   Your highness knows, comes to no further use
75   But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,
76   The prince will in the perfectness of time
77   Cast off his followers; and their memory
78   Shall as a pattern or a measure live,
79   By which his grace must mete the lives of others,
80   Turning past evils to advantages.

81   'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
82   In the dead carrion.
Enter WESTMORELAND
83   Who's here? Westmoreland?

84   Health to my sovereign, and new happiness
85   Added to that that I am to deliver!
86   Prince John your son doth kiss your grace's hand:
87   Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all
88   Are brought to the correction of your law;
89   There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd
90   But peace puts forth her olive every where.
91   The manner how this action hath been borne
92   Here at more leisure may your highness read,
93   With every course in his particular.

94   O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
95   Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
96   The lifting up of day.
Enter HARCOURT
97   Look, here's more news.

98   From enemies heaven keep your majesty;
99   And, when they stand against you, may they fall
100  As those that I am come to tell you of!
101  The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph,
102  With a great power of English and of Scots
103  Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown:
104  The manner and true order of the fight
105  This packet, please it you, contains at large.

106  And wherefore should these good news make me sick?
107  Will fortune never come with both hands full,
108  But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
109  She either gives a stomach and no food;
110  Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast
111  And takes away the stomach; such are the rich,
112  That have abundance and enjoy it not.
113  I should rejoice now at this happy news;
114  And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy:
115  O me! come near me; now I am much ill.

116  Comfort, your majesty!

117  O my royal father!

118  My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.

119  Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits
120  Are with his highness very ordinary.
121  Stand from him. Give him air; he'll straight be well.

122  No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs:
123  The incessant care and labour of his mind
124  Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in
125  So thin that life looks through and will break out.

126  The people fear me; for they do observe
127  Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature:
128  The seasons change their manners, as the year
129  Had found some months asleep and leap'd them over.

130  The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between;
131  And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
132  Say it did so a little time before
133  That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.

134  Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.

135  This apoplexy will certain be his end.

136  I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence
137  Into some other chamber: softly, pray.