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thee!

Of afhyfemblance, meagre, pale, and bloodlefs, | Once by the king, and three times thrice by
Being all defcended to the labouring heart;
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the fame for aidance 'gainit the enemy;
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er
returneth

To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But, fee, his face is black, and full of blood;
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghaftly, like a ftrangled man:
His hair uprear'd, his noftrils fretch'd with
Struggling;

His hands abroad fifplay'd, as one that grafp' And tugg'd for life, and was by strength fubdued. fing; Look on the sheets: his hair, you fee, is tick. Mis well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged,

Like to the fummer's corn by tempeft lodg'd.
It cannot be but he was murder'd here;
The least of all thefe figns were probable.
A good Confcience.

What ftronger breaft-plate than a heart un-
tainted?

Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel juft; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whofe confcience with injuftice is corrupted. Remorflefs Hatred.

A plague upon 'em wherefore fhould I curfe them? [groan, Would-curfes kill, as doth the mandrake's I would invent as bitter fearching terms, A curs'd, as harsh, as horrible to hear, Deliver'd ftrongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many figns of deadly hate, As lean-fac'd envy in her loathfome cave: My tongue should fumble in mine earneft words;

Mine eyes thould sparkle like the beaten flint; Mine hair be fix'd'on end like one dutract; Ay, ev'ry joint thould feem to curfe and ban: And even now, my burden'd heart would break,

Should I not curfe them. Pifonbe their drink! Gall, worse than gall, the dai: teit that they tafte;

Their sweetest fhade,a grove of cyprefs trees! Their chiefeft profpect, murdering bafilickst Their fofteft touch, as fmart as lizardings, Their mufic, frightful as the ferpent's hi; And boding fcrich-owls make the concert full! All the foul terrors in dark-feated hell

Now, by the ground that I am banifh'd from, Well could I curfe away a winter's night, Though franding naked on a mountain top, Where biting coldwould never let grafs grow. Parting Lovers.

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'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
For where thou art, there is the world i felf,
With every feveral pleafure in the world!
And where thou art not, defolation.
Dying, with the Perfon beloved, preferable to
parting.

If I depart from thee, I cannot live:
And in thy fight to die, what were it elfe,
But like a pleafant flumber in thy lap?
Bere could I breathe my foul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle.babe,
Dying with mother's dug between its lips.
The Death-bed Horrors of a guilty Confcience.
Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? Where should he die?
Can I make men live, whether they will or no?
O torture me no more, I will confefs-
Alive again? Then thew me where he is;
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him-
He hath no eyes, the duft hath blinded them.
Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands
upright,

Like lime-twigs fet to catch my winged foul! Give me fome drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poifon that I bought of him. Night.

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorfeful day Is crept into the bofom of the fea; And now loud howling wolves aroufe the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night; Who with their drowsy, flow, and flagging wings,

Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws

Breathe foul contagious darknefs in the air. Kent.

Kent, in the commentaries Cæfar writ,

Is term'd the civilit place of all this ifle: Sweet is the country, becaufe full of riches; 1 he people liber. 1, valiant, active, wealthy. Lord av's Apology for hins if

Juftice, with favour, have I always done; Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could

never.

When have I aught exacted at your hands,
Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you?
Large gifts have I beftow'd on learned clerks
Beraufe my book preferr'd me to the king:
And-feeing ignorance is the curfe of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to
heaven,

Unless you be poffefs'd with devilih spirits,
You cannot but forbear to murder me.
$24 THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI.
SHAKSPEARE.

And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, ípeak not to me, even now be gone-
-go not yet! even thus two friends condemn'do
Einbrace, and kifs, and take ten thousand
leaves.

Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet,now farewell, and farewell life with thee!
aff. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,

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How fweet a thing it is to wear a crown; Within whofe circuit is Elysium, And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. A hungry Lion.

So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch Rra That

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And full as oft came Edward to my fide,
With purple faulchion painted to the hilt
In blood of thofe that had encounter'd him:
And when the hardieft warriors did retire,
Richard cried, "Charge! and give no foot of
ground!"

And cried, "A crown,or elfe a glorious tomb!
"A fceptre, or an earthly fepulchre !"
With this we charg'd again: but out, alas!
We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan
With bootlefs labour fwim against the tide,
And spend her strength with over-matching

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But you are more inhuman, more inexorable-
O, ten times more than tigers of Hyrcania.
See, ruthlefs queen, a hapless father's tears:
This cloth theu dipp'st in blood of my fweet
boy,

The Bleffings of a Shepherd's Life.
O God! methinks it were a happy life,
To be no better than a homely fwain;
To fit upon a hill, as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to fee the minutes how they run:
How many make the hour full complete,
How many hours bring about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live:
When this is known, then to divide the times:
So many hours must I tend my flock;
So many hours muft I take my reft;
So many hours must I contemplate;
So many hours muft I fport myfelf;
So many days, my ewes have been with young
So many weeks, ere the poor fools will year:
So many months, ere I fhall fhear the fleece:
| So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, ad

And I with tears do wafh the blood away.
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this:
And, if thou tell'it the heavy ftory right,
Upon my foul, the hearers will fhed tears;
Yea, even my foes will fhed faft falling tears,
And say, “Alas, it was a piteous deed!"
The Duke of York in Battle.
Methought, he bore him in the thickeft
As doth a lion in a herd of neat ; [troop,
Or as a bear, encompafs'd round with dogs,
Who having pinch'da few, and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him.
The Morning.

See how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious fun!
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimm'd like a yonker prancing to his love!
The Morning's Dawn.

This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light;

What time the fhepherd,blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day or night,

years,

Pafs'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah what a life were this! how fweet! how
lovely!

Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To fhepherds, looking on their filly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings, that fear their fubjects' treachery
O, yes, it doth; a thousand fold it doth.
And to conclude-the fhepherd's home
curds,

His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted fleep under a fresh tree's fhade,
All which fecure and fweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands fparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,
When care, iniftruft, and treafon wait on him.
Mob.

Look, as I blow this feather from my fac
And as the air blows it to me again,

Obeying with my wind, when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Cominanded always by the greater guft;
Such is the lightnefs of your common mea

A Smile on ambitious Thoughts.

Like one that ftands upon a promontory,
Why, then I do but dream on fov'reign"
And fpies a far-off fhore where he would tre
Withing his foot were equal with his eye'
And chides the fea that funders him fr
thence,

Saying-he'll lade it dry, to have his way.
Gloucefter's Deformity.

Why, love forfwore me in my mother'swer
And, for I fhould not deal in her foft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with fome bribe
To fhrink mine arm up like a wither'd thrus
To make an evious mountain on my back,
Where fits deformity to mock my body;
To thape my legs of an unequal fize;
To difproportion me in every part:
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp,
That carries no impreflion like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd?
Gloucester's

3

L

Gloucefler's Diffimulation.

Why, I can fmile, and murder while Ifmile; And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart;

And wet my cheeks with artificial tears;
And frame my face to all occafions:
I'll drown more failors than the mermaidfhall:
I'll flay more gazers than the bafilifk;
I'll play the orator as well as Neftor,
Deceive more flily than Ulyffes could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:
I can add colours to the cameleon;
Change fhapes with Proteus, for advantages,
And fet the murd'rous Machiavel to fchool.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?

Henry VI. on his own Lenity. [mands,
I have not stopp'd mine ears to their de-
Nor pofted off their fuits with flow delays;
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildnefs hathallay'd their fwelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears.
I have not been defirous of their wealth,
Nor much opprefs'd them with great fubfidies,
Nor forward of revenge.tho' they much err'd.

The Earl of Warwick's dying Speech. Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why afk I that? My mangled body fhews; My blood, my want of ftrength, my fick heart That I muft yield my body to the earth. [fhews And, by my fall, the conqueft to my foe.

Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whofe arms gave fhelter to the princely eagle, Under whofe fhade the ramping lion flept; Whofe top-branch overpeer'd Jove's fpreading tree, (wind. And kept low fhrubs from winter's powerful Thefe eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil,

Have been as piercing as the mid-day fun,
To fearch the fecret treafons of the world.
The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with
Were liken'd oft to kingly fepulchers; [blood,
For who liv'dking, but I could dig his grave?
And who durft finile, when Warwick bent
his brow?

Lo, now my glory smear'd in duft and blood!
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Ev'n now forfake me; and, of all my lands,
Is nothing left me, but my body's length.
Queen Margaret's Speech before the Battle
Tewkefury.

of

Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I fhould fay,

My tears gainfay; for every word I fpeak,
Ye fee, I drink the water of my eyes. [reign,
Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your fove-
1s prifoner to the foe, his ftate ufurp'd,
His realm a flaughter-houfe, his fubjects flain,
His ftatutes cancell'd, and his treafure fpent;
And yonder is the wolf that makes this fpoil:
You fight injuftice:then, inGod's name, Lords,
Be valiant, and give fignal to the fight.

Omens on the Birth of Richard III.
The owl thriek'd at thy birth, an evil fign;
The night-crow cried,a boding lucklefs tune;

Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempefts fhook down

trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, And chattering pyes in difmal difcords fung: Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And yet brought forth lefs than a mother's To wit-an indigeft, deformed lump, [hope. Not like the fruit of fuch a goodly tree. [born, Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou waft 1o fignify-thou cam'it to bite the world: And, if the reft be true which I have heard, Thou cam'ft into the world with thy legs forward."

25. THE LIFE OF HENRY VIII. SHAKSPEARE.

Anger.

-To climb fteep hills,

Requires flow pace at firft. Anger is like A full-hot horfe; who, being allow'd his way,

Self-mettle tires him.

Action to be carried on with Refolution.
-If I am

Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither
My faculties, nor perfon, yet will be [know
The chronicles of my doing-let me fay,
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake
That virtue muft go through. We must not stint
Our neceffary actions, in the fear
To cope malicious cenfurers; which ever,
As rav'nous fishes, do a veffel follow
That is new-trimm'd; but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By fick interpreters, once weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow'd; what worlt, as oft
Hitting a groffer quality, is cried up
For our best act. If we shall stand still,
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'dat,
We should take root here, where we sit, or fit
State-ftatues only.
New Cuftoms.

New customs,
Though they be never fo ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
The Duke of Buckingham's Prayer for the King.
-May he live

Longer than I have time to tell his years!
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be!
And, when old time fhall lead him to his end,
Goodnefs and he fill up one monument!
Dependents not to be too much trufed by great Men.
This from a dying man receive as certain:
Where you are liberal of your loves,and coun.
fels,
[friends,
Be fure you be not loofe: for thofe you make
And give your hearts to, when they once
perceive

The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again
But where they mean to link ye.
A good Wife.

A lofs of her,
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never loft her luftre;
Of her, that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with; even of her

That

That when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, [ Still met the king? lov'd him next Heaven? Will blefs the king.

The Bleffings of a low Station.

'Tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glitt'ring grief, And wear a golden forrow.

Queen Catharine's Speech to her Hufband.

-Alas, Sir,

In what have I offended you? What caufe
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,
And take your good grace from me? Heaven
witness,

I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable:
Ever in fear to kindle your diflike, [forry
Yea, fubject to your count'nance; glad or
As I faw it inclin'd. When was the hour,
I ever contradicted your defire, [friends
Or made it not mine too? Which of your
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? What friend of mine,
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice,
He wasfrom thencedifcharg'di Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blefs'd
With many children by you. If, in the course
And procefs of this time, you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred perfon, in God's name
Turn me away; and let the foul'ft contempt
Shut door upon me, and fo give me up
To the harpest kind of justice.

-

Queen Catharine's Speech to Cardinal Wolfey. -You are meek, and humble mouth'd; You fign your place and calling, in full feeming

With meeknefs and humility: but your heart Is cramm'd with arrogancy,fpleen, and pride. You have, by fortune,and his highness' fa mounted, Gone flightly o'er low fteps; and now are Where pow'rs are your retainers: and your words,

vours,

Domeftics to you, ferve your will, as't pleafe
Yourself pronouncetheir office. I muft tellyou,
You tender more your perfon's honour, than
Your high profeffion fpiritual.

obey'd him?

Been, out of tondness, fuperftitious to him
Almoft forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well,lords,
Bring me a conftant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his plea
fure;

And to that woman, when she has done moff,
Yet I will add an honour-a great patients.
Queen Catharine compared to a Lily.
Like the lily,
frish'd,
That once was miftrefs of the field, and fou.
I'll hang my head, and perish.

Obedience to Princes,

The hearts of princes kifs obedience,
So much they love it: but to itubborn fpirits
They fwell, and grow as terrible as ftorm
Horror, its outward Effects.

Some ftrange commotion
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and ftarts;
Stops on a fudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple; straight
Springs out into faft gait; then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard; and anon he cafts
His eye against the moon: in most strangepol
We've feen him fet himself.

[twit

Firm Allegiance.
-Though perils did
Abound as thick as thought could make'em,
Appear in forms as horrid; yet my duty, [a
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unfhaken yours.

|
Anger, its external Effects.
What fudden anger's this? How have Irep'd
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin (it
Leap'd from his eyes: fo looks the chared
lion

King Henry's Character of Queen Catharine.
That man i'the world who thall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
For fpeaking falfe in that: Thou art, alone,
(If thy rare qualities, fweet gentleness,
Thy meeknefs faint-like, wife-like govern-
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts[ment,
Sovereign and pious elfe, could but fpeak thee
The queen of earthly queens.
[out)

On her own Merit.
Have I liv'd thus long (let me fpeak myfelf,
Since virtue finds no friends)a wife,a true one?
woman (I dare fay without vainglory)
Never yet branded with fufpicion?
Havel with all my full affection

(him Upon the daring huntsman that has gai Then makes him nothing.

Falling Greatnefs.

-Nay, then farewell! [greatnes I have touch'd the highest point of all And, from that full meridian of my glory, I hafte now to my fetting. I fhall fall, Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man fee me more.

The Viciffitudes of Life.

So farewell to the little good you bear me Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatnes This is the state of man: To day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blo

fonis,

[him

And bears his blufhing honours thick u
The third day comes a frost, ak lling fro;
And when he think, good eafy man, full furt
His greatnefs is a ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur
Like little wanton boys, thatswim on bladder
This many fummers in a fea of glory;
But far beyond my depth: my high-blow
pride

At length broke under met and now has le
Weary, and old with fervice, to the mers
Of a rude ftream.

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Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!
I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' fa-

vours!

There is, betwixt that fimile we wouldafpire to, That fweet afpect of princes, and our ruin, More pangs and fears than war or womenhave; And, when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.

Cardinal Wolfey's Speech to Cromwell. Cromwell, I did not think to fhed a tear In all my miferies; but thou haft forc'd me Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell;

tion

And, when I am forgotten, as I fhall be,
And fleep in dull cold marble, where no men-
Of me more must he heard of, fay, I taught
[thee;
Say, Wolfey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And founded all the depths and fhoals of ho-

nour,

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rife in; A fure and fafe one, tho' thy mafter mifs'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that fin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? Love thy felf laft: cherish thofe hearts that

hate thee;

Corruption wins not more than honesty. Stillinthy right hand carry gentle peace, [not: ideo filence envious tongues. Be juft, and fear et all the ends thou aim'it at, be thy country's, "hy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'ft, [Cromwell, hou fall it a bleffed martyr. Serve the king; And, pr'ythee, lead me in:

Fis? how

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There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny: 'tis the king's: My robe,
And my integrity to Heaven, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Crom-
[well,
Had I but ferv'd my God with half the zeal
ferv'd my king, he would not in mine age
dave left me naked to mine enemies!

Applause.

Such a noife arose

As the fhrouds make at fea in a ftiff tempeft, loud, and to as many tunes: Hats,cloaks, (Doublets, I think) flew up; and, had their faces

[joy

615

Purfued him ftill! and, three nights after this,
About the hour of eight (which he himself
Foretold fhould be his laft), full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears and forrow,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His bleffed part to heaven, and flept in peace,
His Vices and Virtues.

So may he reft; his faults lie gently on him!
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak
And yet with charity-he was a man [him,
Of an unbounded ftomach, ever ranking
Tied all the kingdom: fimony was fair play;
Himfelf with princes; one, that by fuggeftion
His own opinion was his law: I' the prefence
He would fay untruths; and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning: He was never,
But where he went to ruin, pitiful:
But his performance, as he now is, nothing.
His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example

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And though he were unfatisfied in getting
He was moft princely: ever witnels for him,
(Which was a fin), yet in beftowing, madam,
Thofe twins of learning that he raised in you,
Ipfwich and Oxford! one of which fell with
him,

Unwilling to out-live the good he did it
So excellent in art, and fill is ribe
The other, though unfinif'd, yet fo famous,
That Chriftendom fhall ever speak to var
His overthrow heap'd happes ups ir
For then, and not till then, te ei aici,
And found the bleffedress of inter
And, to add greater hour tage
Than man could give him, in
Malco Bern

Envy and crooked mainten

Been loofe, this day they had been loft. Such Dare bite the befnever faw before. Great-bellied women,

That had not half a week to go, like rams

In the old time of war, would fhake the prefs, Become a chu
And make'em reel before 'em. No man living Win ftreng in.
Could fay, "this is my wife," there; all were Caft none away
So ftrangely in one piece.

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woes, myfelt. my for.

ere!

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