HENRY THE FOURTH'S SOLILOQUY

How

FROM

ON SLEEP.

SHAKESPEAR.

many thousands of my pooreft fubjects

Are at this hour afleep! O gentle Sleep,

Nature's foft nurse, how have I frighted thee,

That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,

And steep my senses in forgetfulness!

Why rather, Sleep, ly'ft thou in fmoaky cribs,

Upon uneafy pallets ftretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber;

Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,

Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with founds of sweetest melody?

O thou

IN SOM NU M.

Q

UOT mihi regnatos jam nunc complectitur almâ,

Quot miferos, requie Somnus! vis mellea Somni, Quæ res grata foves! quonam depulfa timore, Ponderibus defeffa tuis non lumina condis,

Nec mihi permulces Lethæo flumine fenfus ?—

Heu! quid pauperibus gaudes concumbere lecto
Stramineo, fufus circum quo fumeus humor,
Stridula vel faciles irritat mufca fopores?

Heu! quid tecta citis pedibus regalia vitas,
Magnificofque toros; qùo thurea te vocat aura,
Te vocat incaffùm dulciffima tibia cantu ?

Que,

O thou dull god, why ly'ft thou with the vile

In loathfome beds, and leav'ft the kingly couch,

A watch-cafe to a common larum bell?

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,

Seal up the fhip's-boy's eyes, and rock his brains,

In cradle of the rude imperious furge;

And in the vifitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them

With deaf'ning clamours in the flipp'ry shrouds;
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes :
Canft thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repofe

To the wet fea boy, in an hour fo rude,

And, in the calmeft, and the stillest night,

With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a king? then happy, lowly clown!

Uneafy lies the head that wears a crown.

WOLSEY

Quæ, malefane, tuum fuadent faftidia numen
Dormitare cafa, thalamos et linquere regum,

Queîs tonat affiduâ tanquam cuftodia voce?

Nautæ, quando agitur pinus, ludibria ponti,
Amplexo malum, fundisne oblivia curæ ?
Dumque etiam venti difcordia flamina mifcent
Altùm incurvantes monftrofa cacumina, funes
Et dum ftridentes inter fragor intonat ingens,
Territa quo fomnis mors exilit ipfa tumultu :
O levis, ut placuit tibi, diro turbine cœli,
Equoribus nautæ tabentia membra levare?
Et quanquam fileant ædes, atque omnia circum
Jam filcant, adfintque irritamenta foporis,
Defiderata negas fœevus tua gaudia regi?

O fortunati nimiùm, fua fi bona nôrint

Agricolæ nobis eft irrequieta corona:

O caput infelix, quod tu premis, aurea cura!

CARDI

WOLSEY AND CROMWELL.

FROM

SHAKESPEAR.

WOL.

AREWELL, a long farewell to all my greatnefs!

FARE

This is the state of man: to day he

puts

The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow bloffoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;

The third day comes a froft, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good eafy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening, nips his shoot;
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders,
These many fummers in a sea of glory;

But far beyond my depth: my high blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left mè,
Weary and old with fervice, to the mercy

Of a rude ftream, that muft for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye!

forth