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Have I not strove to love, although I knew
children by you: If, in the course
of this time, you can report,
You are meek, and humble mouth'd;
retainers: and your words, Domestics to you, serve your will
, as't please.
That man i'the world, who shall report he has
Obeying in commanding,--and thy parts Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out*), The
queen of earthly queens.
QUEEN KATHARINE ON HER OWN MERIT. Have I liv'd thus long-(let me speak myself, Since virtue finds no friends),—a wife, a true one? A woman (I dare say, without vain glory), Never yet branded with suspicion? Have I with all my full affections
shim? Still met the king?' lov’d him next heaven? obey'd Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him? Almost forgot my prayers to content him? And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords. Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure; And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour,-a great patience.
QUEEN KATHARINE COMPARED TO A LILY. Like the lily, That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, I'll hang my head, and perish.
OBEDIENCE TO PRINCES.
OUTWARD EFFECTS OF HORROR. Some strange commotion
* Speak out thy merits. + Served him with superstitious attention.
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts ;
Though perils did
EXTERNAL EFFECTS OF ANGER.
What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it?
Nay then, farewell!
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE.
So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
many summers in a sea of glory;
my heart new open'd: 0, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ! 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, CromAnd when I am forgotten, as I shall be; [well; 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 miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
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-belly'd women, That had not half a week to
CARDINAL WOLSEY'S DEATH.
* By short stages.