K. Henry.
Now lords, if heav'n doth give successful end
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctify'd.
Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
And every thing lyes level to our wish:
Only we want a little personal strength:
And pause us, 'till these rebels, now a-foot,
Come underneath the yoak of government.

War.
Both which we doubt not, but your Majesty
Shall soon enjoy.

K. Henry.
Humphry, my son of Gloucester,
Where is the Prince your brother?

Glou.
I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.

K. Henry.
And how accompanied?

Glou.
I do not know, my lord.

K. Henry.
Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?

Glou.
No, my good lord, he is in presence here.

Cla.
What would my lord and father?

K. Henry.
Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother?
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
Thou hast a better place in his affection
Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy,
And noble offices thou may'st effect
Of mediation, after I am dead,

Between his greatness and thy other brethren.
Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love,
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace,
By seeming cold, or careless of his will.
For he is gracious if he be observ'd:
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day, for melting charity:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint,
As humourous as winter, and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
His temper therefore must be well observ'd:
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth:
But being moody, give him line and scope,
'Till that his passions, like a Whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends;
A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,
That the united vessel of their blood,
(Mingled with venom of suggestion,
As force, perforce, the age will pour it in)
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As Aconitum, or rash gun-powder.

Cla.
I shall observe him with all care and love.

K. Henry.
Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?

Cla.
He is not there to-day; he dines in London.

K. Henry.
And how accompanied? can'st thou tell that?

Cla.
With Poins, and other his continual followers.

K. Henry.
Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds:
And he, the noble image of my youth,
Is over-spread with them; therefore my grief
Stretches it self beyond the hour of death.
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape

In forms imaginary, th' unguided days
And rotten times that you shall look upon,
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his head-strong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
When means and lavish manners meet together,
Oh with what wings shall his affection fly
Tow'rds fronting peril and oppos'd decay?

War.
My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite:
The Prince but studies his companions,
Like a strange tongue; wherein, to gain the language,
'Tis needful that the most immodest word
Be look'd upon, and learn'd; which once attain'd,
Your highness knows, comes to no farther use,
But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,
The Prince will in the perfectness of time
Cast off his followers; and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,
By which his grace must mete the lives of others;
Turning past evils to advantages.

K. Henry.
'Tis seldom, when the Bee doth leave her comb
In the dead carrion.—Who's here? Westmorland?

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