<SPEECH 1><ACT 3><SCENE 1><43%>
<K. HENRY>	<44%>
	Go, call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;
	But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,
	And well consider of them. Make good speed.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Page.>
</STAGE DIR>
	How many thousand of my poorest subjects
	Are at this hour asleep! O sleep! O gentle sleep!
	Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
	That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
	And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
	Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
	Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
	And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
	Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
	Under the canopies of costly state,
	And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?
	O thou dull god! why liest thou with the vile
	In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch
	A watch-case or a common 'larum bell?
	Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
	Seel up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
	In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
	And in the visitation of the winds,
	Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
	Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
	With deaf'ning clamour in the slippery clouds,
	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 most stillest night,
	With all appliances and means to boot,
	Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
	Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 2><ACT 3><SCENE 1><44%>
<K. HENRY>	<45%>
	Is it good morrow, lords?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 3><ACT 3><SCENE 1><44%>
<K. HENRY>	<45%>
	Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords.
	Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 4><ACT 3><SCENE 1><45%>
<K. HENRY>	<45%>
	Then you perceive the body of our kingdom,
	How foul it is; what rank diseases grow,
	And with what danger, near the heart of it.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 5><ACT 3><SCENE 1><45%>
<K. HENRY>	<45%>
	O God! that one might read the book of fate,
	And see the revolution of the times
	Make mountains level, and the continent,—
	Weary of solid firmness,—melt itself
	Into the sea! and, other times, to see
	The beachy girdle of the ocean
	Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,
	And changes fill the cup of alteration
	With divers liquors! O! if this were seen,
	The happiest youth, viewing his progress through,
	What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
	Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
	'Tis not ten years gone
	Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends,
	Did feast together, and in two years after
	Were they at wars: it is but eight years since
	This Percy was the man nearest my soul,
	Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs
	And laid his love and life under my foot;
	Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard
	Gave him defiance. But which of you was by,—
<STAGE DIR>
<To Warwick.>
</STAGE DIR> You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,—
	When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears,
	Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,
	Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?
	'Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which
	My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;'
	Though then, God knows, I had no such intent,
	But that necessity so bow'd the state
	That I and greatness were compelled to kiss:
	'The time shall come,' thus did he follow it,
	'The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,
	Shall break into corruption:'—so went on,
	Foretelling this same time's condition
	And the division of our amity.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 6><ACT 3><SCENE 1><46%>
<K. HENRY>	<47%>
	Are these things then necessities?
	Then let us meet them like necessities;
	And that same word even now cries out on us.
	They say the bishop and Northumberland
	Are fifty thousand strong.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 7><ACT 3><SCENE 1><46%>
<K. HENRY>	<47%>
	I will take your counsel:
	And were these inward wars once out of hand,
	We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 8><ACT 4><SCENE 4><72%>
<K. HENRY>	<72%>
	Now, lords, if God doth give successful end
	To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
	We will our youth lead on to higher fields
	And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
	Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
	Our substitutes in absence well invested,
	And everything lies level to our wish:
	Only, we want a little personal strength;
	And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
	Come underneath the yoke of government.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 9><ACT 4><SCENE 4><72%>
<K. HENRY>	<72%>
	Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,
	Where is the prince your brother?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 10><ACT 4><SCENE 4><72%>
<K. HENRY>	<72%>
	And how accompanied?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 11><ACT 4><SCENE 4><72%>
<K. HENRY>	<72%>
	Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 12><ACT 4><SCENE 4><72%>
<K. HENRY>	<73%>
	Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
	How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother?
	He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
	Thou hast a better place in his affection
	Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy,
	And noble offices thou mayst effect
	Of mediation, after I am dead,
	Between his greatness and thy other brethren:
	Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love,
	Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
	By seeming cold or careless of his will;
	For he is gracious, if he be observ'd:
	He hath a tear for pity and a hand
	Open as day for melting charity;
	Yet, notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint;
	As humorous as winter, and as sudden
	As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
	His temper therefore must be well observ'd:
	Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
	When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth;
	But, being moody, give him line and scope,
	Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
	Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,
	And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,
	A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,
	That the united vessel of their blood,
	Mingled with venom of suggestion—
	As, force perforce, the age will pour it in—
	Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
	As aconitum or rash gunpowder.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 13><ACT 4><SCENE 4><73%>
<K. HENRY>	<73%>
	Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 14><ACT 4><SCENE 4><73%>
<K. HENRY>	<73%>
	And how accompanied? canst thou tell that?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 15><ACT 4><SCENE 4><73%>
<K. HENRY>	<74%>
	Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;
	And he, the noble image of my youth,
	Is overspread with them: therefore my grief
	Stretches itself beyond the hour of death:
	The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape
	In forms imaginary the unguided days
	And rotten times that you shall look upon
	When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
	For when his headstrong riot hath 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
	Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 16><ACT 4><SCENE 4><74%>
<K. HENRY>	<74%>
	'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
	In the dead carrion.

</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 17><ACT 4><SCENE 4><74%>
<K. HENRY>	<75%>
	O Westmoreland! thou art a summer bird,
	Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
	The lifting up of day.

</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 18><ACT 4><SCENE 4><74%>
<K. HENRY>	<75%>
	And wherefore should these good news make me sick?
	Will Fortune never come with both hands full
	But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
	She either gives a stomach and no food;
	Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast
	And takes away the stomach; such are the rich,
	That have abundance and enjoy it not.
	I should rejoice now at this happy news,
	And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy.
	O me! come near me, now I am much ill.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 19><ACT 4><SCENE 4><75%>
<K. HENRY>	<76%>
	I pray you take me up, and bear me hence
	Into some other chamber: softly, pray.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 20><ACT 4><SCENE 5><76%>
<K. HENRY>	<76%>
	Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;
	Unless some dull and favourable hand
	Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 21><ACT 4><SCENE 5><76%>
<K. HENRY>	<76%>
	Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 22><ACT 4><SCENE 5><77%>
<K. HENRY>	<78%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Waking.>
</STAGE DIR> Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence!

</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 23><ACT 4><SCENE 5><77%>
<K. HENRY>	<78%>
	Why did you leave me here alone, my lords?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 24><ACT 4><SCENE 5><77%>
<K. HENRY>	<78%>
	The Prince of Wales! Where is he? let me see him:
	He is not here.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 25><ACT 4><SCENE 5><78%>
<K. HENRY>	<78%>
	Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 26><ACT 4><SCENE 5><78%>
<K. HENRY>	<78%>
	The prince hath ta'en it hence: go, seek him out.
	Is he so hasty that he doth suppose
	My sleep my death?
	Find him, my Lord of Warwick; chide him hither.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Warwick.>
</STAGE DIR>
	This part of his conjoins with my disease,
	And helps to end me. 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 thoughts,
	Their brains with care, their bones with industry;
	For this they have engrossed and pil'd up
	The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;
	For this they have been thoughtful to invest
	Their sons with arts and martial exercises:
	When, like the bee, culling from every flower
	The virtuous sweets,
	Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with honey,
	We bring it to the hive, and like the bees,
	Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
	Yield his engrossments to the ending father.

<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter Warwick.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Now, where is he that will not stay so long
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 27><ACT 4><SCENE 5><78%>
<K. HENRY>	<79%>
	But wherefore did he take away the crown?

<STAGE DIR>
<Re-enter the Prince.>
</STAGE DIR>
	Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry.
	Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 28><ACT 4><SCENE 5><79%>
<K. HENRY>	<79%>
	Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:
	I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
	Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair
	That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours
	Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
	Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm 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; and at my death
	Thou hast seal'd up my expectation:
	Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not,
	And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it.
	Thou hid'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! canst thou not forbear me half an hour?
	Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,
	And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
	That thou art crowned, not that I am dead.
	Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse
	Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head:
	Only compound me with forgotten dust;
	Give that which gave thee life unto the worms.
	Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;
	For now a time is come to mock at form.
	Harry the Fifth is crown'd! Up, vanity!
	Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence!
	And to the English court assemble now,
	From every region, apes of idleness!
	Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum:
	Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,
	Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit
	The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
	Be happy, he will trouble you no more:
	England shall double gild his treble guilt.
	England shall give him office, honour, might;
	For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks
	The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
	Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.
	O my poor kingdom! sick with civil blows.
	When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
	What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
	O! thou wilt be a wilderness again,
	Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 29><ACT 4><SCENE 5><81%>
<K. HENRY>	<81%>
	O my son!
	God put it in thy mind to take it hence,
	That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,
	Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.
	Come hither, Harry: sit thou by my bed;
	And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
	That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,
	By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways
	I met this crown; and I myself know well
	How troublesome it sat upon my head:
	To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
	Better opinion, better confirmation;
	For all the soil of the achievement goes
	With me into the earth. It seem'd in me
	But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand,
	And I had many living to upbraid
	My gain of it by their assistances;
	Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
	Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears
	Thou seest with peril I have answered;
	For all my reign hath been but as a scene
	Acting that argument; and now my death
	Changes the mode: for what in me was purchas'd,
	Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;
	So thou the garment wear'st successively.
	Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
	Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;
	And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends,
	Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;
	By whose fell working I was first advanc'd,
	And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
	To be again displac'd: which to avoid,
	I cut them off; and had a purpose now
	To lead out many to the Holy Land,
	Lest rest and lying still might make them look
	Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
	Be it thy course to busy giddy minds
	With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
	May waste the memory of the former days.
	More would I, but my lungs are wasted so
	That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
	How I came by the crown, O God, forgive!
	And grant it may with thee in true peace live.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 30><ACT 4><SCENE 5><82%>
<K. HENRY>	<83%>
	Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 31><ACT 4><SCENE 5><82%>
<K. HENRY>	<83%>
	Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John;
	But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
	From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight
	My worldly business makes a period.
	Where is my Lord of Warwick?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 32><ACT 4><SCENE 5><82%>
<K. HENRY>	<83%>
	Doth any name particular belong
	Unto the lodging where I first did swound?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 33><ACT 4><SCENE 5><82%>
<K. HENRY>	<83%>
	Laud be to God! even there my life must end.
	It hath been prophesied to me many years
	I should not die but in Jerusalem,
	Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land.
	But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie:
	In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 34><ACT 5><SCENE 2><87%>
<K. HENRY>	<87%>
	This new and gorgeous garment, majesty,
	Sits not so easy on me as you think.
	Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear:
	This is the English, not the Turkish court;
	Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,
	But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers,
	For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you:
	Sorrow so royally in you appears
	That I will deeply put the fashion on
	And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad;
	But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
	Than a joint burden laid upon us all.
	For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd,
	I'll be your father and your brother too;
	Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares:
	Yet weep that Harry's dead, and so will I;
	But Harry lives that shall convert those tears
	By number into hours of happiness.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 35><ACT 5><SCENE 2><87%>
<K. HENRY>	<88%>
	You all look strangely on me: <STAGE DIR>
<To the Chief Justice.>
</STAGE DIR> and you most;
	You are, I think, assur'd I love you not.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 36><ACT 5><SCENE 2><88%>
<K. HENRY>	<88%>
	No!
	How might a prince of my great hopes forget
	So great indignities you laid upon me?
	What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison
	The immediate heir of England! Was this easy?
	May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 37><ACT 5><SCENE 2><88%>
<K. HENRY>	<89%>
	You are right, justice; and you weigh this well;
	Therefore still bear the balance and the sword:
	And I do wish your honours may increase
	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 father's words:
	'Happy am I, that have a man so bold
	That dares do justice on my proper son;
	And not 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 unstained sword that you have us'd to bear;
	With this remembrance, that you use the same
	With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit
	As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand:
	You shall be as a father to my youth;
	My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine 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 gone wild into his grave,
	For in his tomb lie my affections;
	And with his spirit sadly I survive,
	To mock the expectation of the world,
	To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out
	Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down
	After my seeming. The tide of blood in me
	Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now:
	Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea,
	Where it shall mingle with the state of floods
	And flow henceforth in formal majesty.
	Now call we our high court of parliament;
	And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel,
	That the great body of our state may go
	In equal rank with the best govern'd nation;
	That war or peace, or both at once, may be
	As things acquainted and familiar to us;
	In which you, father, shall have foremost hand.
	Our coronation done, we will accite,
	As I before remember'd, all our state:
	And, God consigning to my good intents,
	No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say,
	God shorten Harry's happy life one day.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 38><ACT 5><SCENE 5><96%>
<K. HENRY>	<97%>
	My lord chief justice, speak to that vain man.
</K. HENRY>

<SPEECH 39><ACT 5><SCENE 5><97%>
<K. HENRY>	<97%>
	I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers;
	How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
	I have long dream'd of such a kind of man,
	So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so profane;
	But, being awak'd, I do despise my dream.
	Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace;
	Leave gormandising; know the grave doth gape
	For thee thrice wider than for other men.
	Reply not to me with a fool-born jest:
	Presume not that I am the thing I was;
	For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,
	That I have turn'd away my former self;
	So will I those that kept me company.
	When thou dost hear I am as I have been,
	Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,
	The tutor and the feeder of my riots:
	Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death,
	As I have done the rest of my misleaders,
	Not to come near our person by ten mile.
	For competence of life I will allow you,
	That lack of means enforce you not to evil:
	And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,
	We will, according to your strength and qualities,
	Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord,
	To see perform'd the tenour of our word.
	Set on.
</K. HENRY>

