Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me: this from thee
Will I to mine leave, as ’tis left to me.”
But while he speaks, the king awakes, and his roving eye sees the crown which his son is even now wearing. “Sire,” cries the young prince, “I never thought to hear thee speak again.” Then the dying king reproves him:——
“Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair
That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
Thou seek’st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.