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How dread an army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all watched night;
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint,
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks;
Then, mean and gentle all,

Behold, as may unworthiness define

A little touch of Harry in the night:
And so our scene must to the battle fly;
The field of Agincourt.

K. Henry. Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls, Our sins, lay on the king!-we must bear all.

Oh hard condition, twin-born with greatness,

Subjected to the breath of every fool.

What infinite hearts' ease must kings neglect
That private men enjoy!

And what have kings, that privates have not too
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?

And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form
Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flattery? Oh, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!

Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose:
I am a king that find thee; and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world.
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
Who, with a body fill'd and vacant mind,

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Gets him to rest cramm'd with distressful bread;
And but for ceremony, such a wretch,

Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

Enter Erpingham.

Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you.

K. Henry.

Good old knight,

Collect them all together at my tent:

I'll be before thee. [Gives back the cloak to Erpingham. Erp. I shall do it, my lord.

[Exit.

K. Henry (kneeling). O God of battles! steel my soldier's hearts;

Possess them-not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, lest the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them!-Not to-day, O Lord,
Oh, not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown!
I Richard's body have interred anew,
And on it have bestowed more contrite tears,
Than from it issued forced drops of blood:
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their withered hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood:
More will I do.-
[Trumpet sounds without.
Henry (starting to his feet). The day, my friends, and
all things stay for me.

[Ex

-Shakespeare.

GOLD-LEAF BEATING.

THE extraordinary malleable nature of gold, which appears to have been known from the remotest antiquity, together with its power of resisting the action of the atmosphere and of acids, have brought this valuable metal into more common use than its extreme rarity

would otherwise permit. To render it available for the purpose of covering various substances, it is beaten into very thin leaves. The art of the goldbeater requires very great practice, and considerable manual dexterity, and in all its operations the greatest care is necessary to ensure the uniform thickness of the leaf when it is finished.

The gold, which must be perfectly pure, is first cast into small bars, each weighing two ounces, of about three-quarters of an inch in width. The first operation is to extend the bars of gold in length, and to reduce them in thickness. The process of rolling hardens the gold, and to restore its malleability, it is frequently heated to redness. The operation of rolling is continued until the riband of gold is so much reduced in thickness, that a square inch will weigh about six grains and a-half. The first act of the goldbeater is to eut these ribands into pieces about an inch square.

About 150 of these square pieces of gold are placed between as many of vellum about four inches square; the gold is placed as nearly as possible in the centre of each leaf, and about twenty extra pieces of vellum are placed at the top and bottom of the pile. The whole packet of leaves and gold are then strapped together to keep each in its place in the manner shewn in the engraving. Fig. 1 is a band of strong parchment, into which, as shewn in fig. 2, the packet of leaves is forced;

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this band or belt thus confines them in one direction; the packet thus partially confined is then forced into another strap of the same description, which crosses the first at right angles, and completes the confinement of the leaves.

The reduction of the gold squares in thickness is then effected by means of a hammer with rather a rounded face, about four inches in diameter, weighing from fifteen to sixteen pounds, and fixed to a short handle. The beating is performed on a block of black marble, or other hard stone about nine inches square and of considerable weight, the heavier the better; this marble block is embedded in a framework of wood about two

feet square, its upper surface level with the top of the stone. Round three sides of this wooden frame a narrow ledge is raised, while the fourth side, opposite which the workman sits, is furnished with a leather apron, which the goldbeater places round him when at work, for the purpose of receiving any pieces of gold that may escape from the packet. The workman strikes fairly upon the middle of the packet, which he frequently turns over to beat the opposite side, but this he does in the interval between two strokes, without losing his blow. He keeps up a constant beating, and when fatigued with one hand, he dexterously changes the hammer to the other whilst it is elevated in the air, and without any loss of time or force. The packet is every now and then bent, and rolled between the hands of the workman, to give more freedom to the gold as it extends; and it is several times during the operation opened to see how the work proceeds, and to shift the leaves which were in the centre to the outside of the packet. The beating is continued until the gold squares are nearly the size of the skins of vellum between which they are placed.

They are then taken out, and each square is cut into four pieces by drawing a knife across it in two directions. These squares are again made up into packets, but instead of being placed between vellum, as in the first instance, a substance called goldbeater's skin is employed, which is prepared from the intestines of an ox, made into pieces about four inches square. A smaller hammer is now used, and the beating is continued, the packet being more frequently rolled in the workman's hands, on account of the thin state to which

the gold is now reduced. When the gold leaves by this second beating have reached the size of the goldbeater's skin, they are again cut into four, and again subjected to the power of the hammer: by this means they are extended to 192 times their original surface, each ounce of gold thus covering the space of 100 square feet: but this is not by any means so thin as they may be made, for it is very practicable to extend an ounce to 160 square feet. The gold leaves are now cut exactly square by means of a small tool formed of two narrow strips of ivory fixed in a frame at a distance from each other equal to the width of the leaf, being lifted from the cushion on which they are cut by means

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Fig. 3.

of a pair of tweezers, fig. 3. They are then made up into books, each containing twenty-four leaves of gold; the books of thin paper are rubbed over with red chalk, to prevent the gold adhering.-Saturday Magazine.

SCENE FROM “THE LADY OF LYONS."

Mel.

MELNOTTE. FAULINE.

Pauline, by pride

Angels have fallen ere thy time: by pride--
That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould-
The evil spirit of a bitter love,

thee.

And a revengeful heart, had power upon
From my first years my soul was filled with thee:
I saw thee midst the flow'rs the lowly boy
Tended, unmarked by thee-a spirit of bloom,
And joy, and freshness, as if spring itself
Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape!
I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man
Entered the breast of the wild, dreaming boy,
And from that hour I grew-what to the last

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