No More Learning

See, see what show'rs arise,
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart
Upon thy wounds, that kills mine eye and heart!
O, pity, God, this miserable age!
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!
O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!
KING HENRY. Woe above woe! grief more than common grief!
O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!
O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!
The red rose and the white are on his face,
The fatal colours of our striving houses:
The one his purple blood right well resembles;
The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth.
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!
If you contend, a thousand lives must perish.
SON. How will my mother for a father's death
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied!
FATHER.
How will my wife for slaughter of my son
Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied!
KING HENRY. How will the country for these woeful chances
Misthink the King, and not be satisfied!
SON. Was ever son so rued a father's death?
FATHER. Was ever father so bemoan'd his son?
KING HENRY. Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe?
Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much.
SON. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.
Exit with the body
FATHER. These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet;
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre,
For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go;
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
And so obsequious will thy father be,
Even for the loss of thee, having no more,
As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will,
For I have murdered where I should not kill.
Exit with the body
KING HENRY.