Page 830 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

flies. Exeunt.

RICHARD

Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase,
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.

Scene V IT

Alarum. Enter King Henry alone.

KING HENRY

This battle fares like to the morning’s war
When dying clouds contend with growing light,
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea [5]
Forced by the tide to combat with the wind;
Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
Forced to retire by fury of the wind.
Sometime the flood prevails and then the wind;
Now one the better, then another best, [10]
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
Yet neither conqueror nor conquerèd:
So is the equal poise of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory! [15]
For Margaret my queen and Clifford too
Have chid me from the battle, swearing both
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Would I were dead, if God’s good will were so:
For what is in this world but grief and woe? [20]
O God, methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run: [25]
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,