That private men enjoy?

And what have kings, that privates have not too
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs, then do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is the soul of adoration?*

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it! No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
I am a king, that find thee; and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The enter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farcedt title running fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp,
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these thrice gorgeous ceremony
Not all these laid in bed majestical,

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave;
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lacky, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night

*What is the real worth and intrinsic value of adoration?"

† Farced is stuffed. The tumid puffy tides with which a king's name is introduced

Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion* to his horse;
And follows so the ever-running year
With profitable labour, to his grave:
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Had the fore hand and 'vantage of a king.

DESCRIPTION OF THE MISERABLE STATE OF THE
ENGLISH ARMY.

Yon island's carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-favour'dly become the morning field: Their ragged curtains† poorly are let loose, And our air shakes them passing scornfully. Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, With torch-staves in their hand: and the poor jades Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips; The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes, And in their pale dull mouths the gimmalt bit Lies foul with chew'd grass still and motionless; And their executors, the knavish crows, Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour.

KING HENRY'S SPEECH BEFORE THE EATTLE OF AGIN

COURT.

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He, that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, And say-to-morrow is Saint Crispian: Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say, these wounds I had on Crispian's day Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages,

What feats he did that day: Then shall our names, Familiar in their mouths as household words,Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,

The sun.

† Colours.

+Ring.

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.

DESCRIPTION OF THE DUKE OF YORK'S
DEATH.

He smil❜d me in the face, raught* me his hand, And, with a feeble gripe, says,-Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign.

So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck

He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd

Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd;
But I had not so much of man in me,

But all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

ACT V.

THE MISERIES OF WAR.

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleached,-
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas
The darnal, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon; while that the coulterf rusts,
That should deracinate‡ such savagery:
The even mead, that erst brought-sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems,
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.

And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness.

* Reached.

+ Ploughshare.

To deracinate is to force up the roots.

KING HENRY VI.

PART I.

ACT I.

GLORY.

GLORY is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought

ACT V.

MARRIAGE.

Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.*

For what is wedlock forced, but a hell,
An age of discord and continual strife?
Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss,
And is a pattern of celestial peace.

KING HENRY VI.

PART II.

ACT I.

A RESOLVED AND AMBITIOUS WOMAN.

FOLLOW I must, I cannot go before, While Gloster bears this base and humble mind Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,

I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks, And smooth my way upon their headless necks: And, being a woman, I will not be slack

To play my part in fortune's pageant.

* By the discretional agency of another

ACT II.

GOD'S GOODNESS EVER TO BE REMEMBERED.
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.

THE DUCHESS OF GLOSTER'S REMONSTRANCE TO HER
HUSBAND WHEN DOING PENANCE.

For, whilst I think I am thy married wife,
And, thou a prince, protector of this land,
Methinks, I should not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in shame,* with papers on my back;
And followed with a rabble, that rejoice
To see my tears, and hear my deep-felt† groans.
The truthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And, when I start, the envious people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.

ACT III.

SILENT RESENTMENT DEEPEST.

Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep; And in his simple show he harbours treason.

A GUILTY COUNTENANCE.

Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.

DESCRIPTION OF A MURDERED PERSON.

See, how the blood is settled in his face! Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,‡ Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy, Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again.

* Wrapped up in disgrace; alluding to the sheet of penance.

+ Deep-fetched.

A body become inanimate in the common course of nature; to which violence has not brought a timeless end