Great Britain -- History -- Poetry; Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Sources
Long hauing slept, and now rouz’d vp by fame
That keepes the due reward of doing well,
In hope thy pen will helpe to raise my name
Out of obliuion’s den where it did dwell,
In course I come my storie’s truth to tell:
That by the praise, or dispraise of my name,
Others may make a Mirrour of the same.
5.
Of noble _Henrie_, second of that name,
The second sonne I am of sonnes twice two,
Yet second vnto none in worthie fame,
If yeelded were to me my praises due,
As may appeare by that which shall ensue:
First _Richard_ call’d, first true borne English king,
That wore the crowne since Normans conquering.
6.
In large discourse to light I will not bring,
The obloquie of that now loathed crime,
In stubborne youth against my lord and king,
Blushing, I wish all such records of time
In darknesse dead, and wrapped vp in slime:
Yet seeing that truth bids hide no part of blame,
I will in briefe blaze out mine owne defame.
7.
My father’s browes with prints of age repleate,
Fortune that erst did smile, began to frowne,
Abus’d by flatterie and his owne conceat,
As bent with wilfull hands to hasten downe
The statefull dignitie of his renowne:
His eldest borne he made his fellow king,
From whose ambition his distresse did spring.
8.
Yong _Henrie_ sharing equall dignitie,
And hauing set one foot within the throne,
Puft vp with pride to make a monarchie
Of his new state, he would be king alone,
A partner in the crowne he would haue none:
Which pride of mind with bad aduice borne higher,
Caus’d him rebell against his royall sire.
9.
To strengthen his ambition yet but yong,
The false French king in person did support
His part in field: and to be yet more strong,
The Scot and Flemming he did both exhort
With them gainst aged _Henrie_ to consort,
To whom both I and _Gefferie_ my brother
Did giue consent, excited by our mother.
10.
Not one of vs whom nature’s band did bind
With due alleageance to our sire and king,
Did vnto nature’s selfe not proue vnkind,
Yet could not power preuaile, nor enuie’s sting
Against our sire, whom heau’n did helpe to bring
Our stubborne neckes againe beneath his yoke,
Our knees did stoope to his victorious stroke.
11.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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