few die well, that die in battle; 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 dif obey were against all proportion of fubjection.

K. Henry. "So, if a son, that is fent by his father "about merchandize, do fall into fome lewd action "and mifcarry, the imputation of his wickedness, by "your rule, fhould be impofed upon his father that "fent him; or if a fervant, under his master's com"mand transporting a fum of mony, 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 ર King is not bound to answer the particular endings "of his foldiers, the father of his fon, nor the master "of his fervant; for they purpose not their death, "when they purpose their fervices. Befides, there is "no King, be his caufe never so spotlefs, if it come to "the arbitrement of fwords, can try it out with all

unfpotted foldiers: fome, peradventure, have on "them the guilt of premeditated and contrived mur❝ther; fome, of beguiling virgins with the broken "feals of perjury; fome, making the wars their

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8

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; fo that here men

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are punished, for before breach of the King's

laws, in the King's quarrel now: where they "feared the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be fafe, they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of

8 out-run native funishment ;] Native, for civil.

"their damnation, than he was before guilty of those impieties for which they are now vifited. Every fubject's duty is the King's, but every subject's foul ἐσ is his own. Therefore fhould every foldier in the "wars do as every fick man in his bed, wafh 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 fhould 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 should 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 faid fo, to make us fight chearfully; but, when our throats are cut, he may be ranfom'd, and we ne'er the wifer.

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 difpleafure 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 fhould be angry with you, if the time were convenient. Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live. K. Henry. I embrace it:

Will. How fhall I know thee again?

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

K. Henry. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one, they will beat us, for they bear them on their fhoulders; but it is no English treafon to cut French crowns, and to morrow the King himfelf 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 greatnefs,
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 private 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?

9 Upon the King! &c.] This beautiful fpeech was added after the first edition.

VOL. IV.

Cc 3

Mr. Pope. · What

.. What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?
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 sweet,
But poifon'd flatt'ry? O be fick, great Greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure.

Think't 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

1 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 last line given us, and the nonfenfe of it made worfe by the ridiculous pointing. We should read, What is thy TOLL, O adoration! Let us examine how the context ftands with my emendation. What are thy rents? What are thy comings in? What is thy worth? What is thy toll- (i. e. the duties, and impofts, thou receivett:) All here is confonant, and agreeable to a fenfible exclamation. So King Jobwe No Italian prief thall tyib or i TOLL in our dominions. But the Oxford Editor, now he finds the way open for alteration, reads, What is thy fhew of adoration. By which happy emendation, what is about to be inquired into, is first taken for granted namely, that ceremony is but a fhew. And to make room for this word here, which is found in the im- i mediate preceding line, he degrades it there, but puts as good a i, word indeed in its ftead, that is to fay, tell. "That&

"That beats upon the high hoar of this world; "No, not all thefe thrice gorgeous ceremonies, "Not all thefe, laid in bed majeftical,

"Can fleep fo foundly as the wretched flave; "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 Phabus; and all night Sleeps in Elyfium; next day, after dawn, "Doth rife, and help Hyperion to his horfe; "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, "Hath the fore-hand and vantage of a King: The flave, a member of the country's peace, Enjoys it; but in grofs brain little wots,

What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace; Whofe hours the peafant beft advantages.

Erp. My lord, your Nobles, jealous of your abfence, Seek through your camp to find you.

K. Henry. Good old Knight,

Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.-

Erp. I fhall do't, my lord.

[Exit.

K. Henry, O God of battles! fteel my foldiers'

hearts;

Poffefs them not with fear; take from them now The fenfe of reck'ning: (a) left th' oppofed numbers Pluck their hearts from them.Not to day, O Lord,