Page 1100 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride, [170]
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine
Did with the least affection of a welcome

Give entertainment to the might of it,
Let God for ever keep it from my head
And make me as the poorest vassal is [175]
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it.

KING

[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! [180]
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 bypaths and indirect crooked ways

I met this crown, and I myself know well [185]
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 seemed in me [190]
But as an honour snatched 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 supposèd peace. All these bold fears [195]
Thou seest with peril I have answerèd,
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 purchased
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort, [200]

So thou the garland 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,