K. Henry. A friend.

Will. Under what captain serve you?

K. Henry. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. (30)

Will. A good old commander, and a moft kind gentleman: I pray you, what thinks he of our eftate?

K. Henry. Even as men wrack'd upon a fand, that look to be wafh'd off the next tide.

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King?

K. Henry. No; nor is it meet, he fhou'd: for tho I speak it to you, I think, the King is but a man as I am : the Violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element fhews to him as it doth to me; all his fenfes have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and tho his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing; therefore when he fees reafon of fears as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the fame relish as ours are; yet in reafon no man fhould poffefs him with any appearance of fear, left he, by fhewing it, fhould difhearten his army.

Bates. He may fhew what outward courage he will; but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himfelf in the Thames up to the neck; and fo I would he were, and I by him at all adventures, fo we were quit here.

K. Henry. By my troth, I will fpeak my confcience of the King; I think, he would not wish himself any where but where he is.

Bates. Then would he were here alone; fo fhould he be fure to be ransomed, and many poor mens lives faved.

K. Henry. I dare fay, you love him not fo ill to wish him here alone; howfoever you speak this to feel other mens minds. Methinks, I could not die any where fo contented as in the King's company; his cause being juft, and his quarrel honourable.

(30) K. Henry. Under Sir John Erpingham.] Thus all the Editions blunderingly, till I corrected it, in my SHAKESPEARE reford, Sir Thomas Erpingham: Since which, Mr. Pope has vouchfaf'd to rectify the Name in his laft Edition.

Vol. IV.

Will. That's more than we know.

Bates. Ay, or more than we fhou'd feek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the King's fubjects: if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us.

Will. But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all thofe legs, and arms, and heads, chop'd off in a battel, fhall join together at the latter day, and cry all, We dy'd at fuch a place; fome, fwearing; fome, crying for a furgeon; fome, upon their wives left poor behind them; fome, upon the debts they owe; fome, upon their children rawly left. I am afear'd there are few die well, that die in battel; for how can they charitably difpofe of any thing, when blood is their argument? now if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it, whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.

K. Henry. So, if a fon, that is fent by his father about merchandize, do fall into fome lewd action and mifcarry, the imputation of his wickednefs, by your rule, fhould be impofed upon his father that fent him; or if a fervant under his mafter's command tranfporting a fum of money, be affail'd by robbers, and die in many irreconcil'd iniquities; you may call the business of the mafter the author of the fervant's damnation; but this is not fo: the King is not bound to anfwer the particular endings of his foldiers, the father of his fon, nor the mafter of his fervant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their services. Befides, there is no King, be his cause never fo fpotlefs, if it come to the arbitrément of fwords, can try it out with all unfpotted foldiers: fome, peradventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murther; fome, of beguiling virgins with the broken feals of perjury; fome, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bofom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now if these men have defeated the law, and out-run native punishment; though they can out-ftrip men, they have no wings to fly from God, War is his beadle, war is his

vengeance;

vengeance; fo that here men are punished, for before. breach of the King's laws, in the King's quarrel now: where they feared the death, they have born life away; and where they would be fafe, they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of their damnation, than he was before guilty of thofe impieties for which they are now vifited. Every fubject's duty is the King's, but every fubject's foul is his own. Therefore fhould every foldier in the wars do as every fick man in his bed, wash every moth out of his confcience and dying fo, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was bleffedly loft, wherein fuch preparation was gained: and, in him that efcapes, it were not fin to think, that making God fo free an offer, he let him out-live that day to fee his greatnefs, and to teach others how they should prepare.

Will. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill is upon his own head, the King is not to answer for it.

Bates. I do not defire he fhould anfwer for me, and yet I determine to fight luftily for him.

K. Henry. I my felf heard the King fay, he would not be ranfom'd.

Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight chearfully; but when our throats are cut, he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser.

K. Henry. If I live to fee it, I will never truft his word after.

Will. You pay him then; that's a perilous fhot out of an Elder-gun, that a poor and private displeasure can do against a monarch! you may as well go about to turn the fun to ice, with fanning in his face with a Peacock's feather: you'll never truft his word after! come, 'tis a foolish faying.

K. Henry. Your reproof is fomething too round: I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient, Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if K. Henry. I embrace it.

Will. How fhall I know thee again?

you

live.

K. Henry. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet: then if ever thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.

Will. Here's my glove; give me another of thine.
K. Henry. There.

Will. This will I alfo wear in my cap; if ever thou come to me and fay, after to morrow, this is my glove; by this hand, I will give thee a box on the ear.

K. Henry. If ever I live to fee it, I will challenge it.
Will. Thou dar'ft as well be hang'd.

K. Henry. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's company.

Will. Keep thy word: fare thee well.

Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends; we have French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon. [Exeunt foldiers. [Manet King Henry.

.

K. Henry. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one, they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders; but it is no English treason to cut French crowns, and to morrow the King himself will be a clipper. Upon the King! let us our lives, our fouls,

Our debts, our careful wives, our children and
Our fins, lay on the King; he must bear all.
O hard condition, and twin-born with greatness,
Subject to breath of ev'ry fool, whose sense
No more can feel but his own wringing.
What infinite heart-ease must Kings neglect,
That private men enjoy? and what have Kings,
That privates have not too, fave ceremony?
Save gen'ral ceremony?

And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
What kind of God art thou? that fuffer'ft more
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers.

What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in? (31)

(31) What are thy Rents? What are thy Comings-in?

O Ceremony, fhew me but thy Worth:

What! is thy Soul of Adoration ?] Thus is the laft Line given us, and the Nonsense of it made worse by the ridiculous Pointing. Let us ex

O ceremony, fhew me but thy worth:
What is thy toll, O adoration?

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

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

What drink'st thou oft, inftead of homage fweet,
But poifon'd flatt'ry? O be sick, great Greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure.

Think'ft thou, the fiery fever will go out

With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Can't thou, when thou command'ft the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? no, thou proud dream,
That play'ft fo fubtly with a King's repofe;
I am a King, that find thee; and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the scepter and the ball,
The fword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The enter-tiffued robe of gold and pearl,
The farfed title running 'fore the King,
The throne he fits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high fhoar of this world;
No, not all these thrice-gorgeous ceremonies,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,

Can fleep fo foundly as the wretched slave;
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to reft, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never fees horrid night, the child of hell:
But, like a lacquey, from the rife to fet,
Sweats in the eye of Phebus; and all night
Sleeps in Elyfium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rife, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follows fo the ever-running year
With profitable labour to his grave:
And (but for ceremony) fuch a wretch,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with fleep,

amine, how the Context ftands with my Emendation. What are
Rents? What are thy Comings-in? What is thy Worth?
Toll? (i. e. the Duties, and Impofts, thou receiveft ;)
confonant, and agreeable to a fenfible Exclamation.
E 3

thy

What is thy All here is Mr. Warburton.

Hath