And, on the winking of authority,

To understand a law; to know the meaning

More upon humor than advised respect.

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds,

Makes deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by,

A fellow by the hand of nature marked, Quoted, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame,

This murder had not come into my mind.

But taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect,

Finding thee fit for bloody villany,
Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's
death;

And thou, to be endeared to a king, Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.

broke's,

PRINCE HENRY'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF.

[From King Henry IV.]

Gon forgive them, that have so much sway'd

Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!

I will redeem all this on Percy's head, And, in the closing of some glorious day, Be bold to tell you that I am your son; When I will wear a garment all of blood, And stain my favors in a bloody mask, Watch, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it.

And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,

That this same child of honor and renown,

This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,

And your unthought-of Harry chance

PRINCE HENRY'S SPEECH ON THE DEATH OF HOTSPUR. [From King Henry IV.]

FARE thee well, great heart! Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk !

When that this body did contain a spirit,
A kingdom for it was too small a bound:
But now, two paces of the vilest earth
Is room enough: - - this earth, that bears
thee dead,

Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,

I should not make so dear a show of zeal:

But let my favors hide thy mangled face; And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself For doing these fair rites of tenderness. Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to

heaven:

Thy ignomy sleep with thee in thy grave,

But not remember'd in thy epitaph!

RICHARD DUKE OF GLÒSTER'S DESCRIPTION OF HIMSELF.

[From King Henry VI.]

WHY, I can smile, and murder while I smile;

And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart;

And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame my face to all occasions;
I'll drown more sailors than the mer-
maid shall;

I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor;
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy :
I can add colors to the chameleon;
Change shapes with Proteus for advan-
tages,

And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school.

Can I do this and cannot get a crown?

DYING WORDS OF WARWICK THE KING MAKER. [From King Henry VI.] THESE eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil,

Have been as piercing as the mid-day

sun,

To search the secret treasons of the world:

The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood,

Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres: For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?

And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow?

Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!

My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,

Even now forsake me; and of all my lands,

Is nothing left me, but my body's length ! Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?

And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

CARDINAL WOLSEY ON THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. [From King Henry VIII.] FAREWELL, a long farewell, to all my greatness,

This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth

The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,

And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost;

And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely

His greatness is a ripening,- nips his root,

And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,

This many summers in a sea of glory;

But far beyond my depth; my highblown pride

At length broke under me; and now has left me,

Weary, and old with service, to the mercy

Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.

Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye;

I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched

Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!

There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,

That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,

More pangs and fears, than wars or women have;

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.