Glo.
Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard?

K. Henry.
Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say rather;
'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better:
Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike,
And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord.

Glo.
Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer. [Exit Lieutenant.

K. Henry.
So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf:
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.—
^{5 note}

Glo.
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Henry.
The bird, that hath been limed in a bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush^{6 note}

:
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye,
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.

Glo.
Why, what a ^{7 note}

K. Henry.
I, Dædalus; my poor son, Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that deny'd our course;
The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea,
Whose envious gulph did swallow up his life.
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that tragic history.—
But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life?

Glo.
Think'st thou, I am an executioner?

K. Henry.
A persecutor, I am sure, thou art;
If murdering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo.
Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.

K. Henry.
Hadst thou been kill'd, when first thou didst presume,
Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy,—that many a thousand,
^{8 note}Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,—
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,—
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cry'd, aboding luckless time; 9Q0850

Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees;
^{9 note}

Thou cam'st into the world with thy legs forward:—

Glo.
I'll hear no more;—Die, prophet, in thy speech; [Stabs him.
For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.

K. Henry.
Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies.

Glo.
What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought, it would have mounted.
See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
O, may such purple tears be alway shed
From those that wish the downfal of our house!—
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say—I sent thee thither, [Stabs him again.
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.—
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say,
I came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd; and the women cry'd,
O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!
And so I was; which plainly signify'd—
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,

^{2 note}

Let hell make crook'd my mind, to answer it.
I had no father, I am like no father:
I have no brother, I am like no brother:
And this word—love, which grey-beards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.—
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light;
^{3 note}

^note, 1629:

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