« ForrigeFortsæt »
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
QUEEN KATHARINE COMPARED TO A LILY.
OBEDIENCE TO PRINCES.
OUTWARD EFFECTS OF HORROR.
Though perils did Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty, As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours.
EXTERNAL EFFECTS OF ANGER.
What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? Ee parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has gall’d him; Then makes him nothing.
Nay then, farewell! I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And, from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE.
to all my grcatness!
him: The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening,--nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur’d, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders This mary summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now hast left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new open'd; 0, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' layours! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
CARDINAL WOLSEY'S SPEECH TO CROMWELL. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; But thou hast forc'd 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 mc 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 miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin sell the angels, how can man then,
APPLAUSE. Such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, (Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy I never saw before. Great-bellied women, That had not half a week to go, like rams In the old time of war, would shake the press, And make them reel before them. No man living Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven So strangely in one piece.
CARDINAL WOLSEY'S DEATH. At last, with easy roads,* he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him; To whom he gare these words,—0, father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity!
* By short stages.
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness
his honours to the world again,
WOLSEY's viceS AND VIRTUES.
This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd tof much honour. From his cradle, He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken and persuading; Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely: Ever witness for him Those twins of learning, that he rais'd in you, Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
* Price † Of the king. Formed for. $ Ipswich :
The other, though unfinish’d, yet sc famous,
Love, and meekness, lord,
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER'S PROPHECY Let me speak, sir, For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth This royal infant, (heaven still move about her!) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be (But few now living can behold that goodness,) A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed: Sheba was never More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue, . Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces, That mould
up such a mighty piece as this is, With all the virtues that attend the good, Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: