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A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,
All's Well that Ends Well, ii. 3.
• Vanitas vanitatum.'
0, my lord,
King Henry VIII., iii. 2.
THE STATESMAN'S LESSON.
(Wolsey loq.) CROMWELL, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee, Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, • Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
King Henry VIII., iii. 2.
MEN Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air, and agony with words : No, no; 't is all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself.
Much Ado About Nothing, v. 1.
DEATH OF THE STAG.
(Hunters loq.) Duke S. COME, shall we go and kill us venison ? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gored. First Lord.
Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
· Poor deer,' quoth he, 'thou makest a testament
Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens :
To fright the animals, and to kill them up,
As You Like It, ii. 1.
(King loq.) How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep! O sleep! O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lulled with sound of sweetest melody?
Second Part of King Henry IV., iii. 1.
* The genuine feeling here attributed to the philosophic Jaques deserves especial notice as a solitary, or at all events almost solitary, instance of any sort of recognition of the sufferings wantonly inflicted upon the lower animal world. This was a branch of ethics apparently altogether unknown to the Christianity or civilisation of theologians, moralists, philosophers, or poets of the ages preceding the middle of the eighteenth century: nor is it too well known even to the present enlightened age. Its recognition is first adequately expressed by Thomson in The Seasons. See also The Adventurer, passim.