A full hot-horse; who being allow'd his
Self-mettle tires him.
ACTION TO BE CARRIED ON WITH RESOLUTION.
If I am traduc'd by tongues, which neither know My faculties, nor person, yet will be
The Chronicles of my doing,—let me say,
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake* That virtue must go through. We must not stintt Our necessary actions, in the fear
To copet malicious censurers; which ever,
As ravenous fishes do a vessel follow
That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow'd: what worst as oft,
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up
For our best act. If we shall stand still,
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,
We should take root here where we sit, or sit
State statues only.
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S PRAYER FOR THE KING.
May he live
Longer than I have time to fell his years!
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be!
And when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!
DEPENDENTS NOT TO BE TOO MUCH TRUSTED BY
GREAT MEN.
This from a dying man receive as certain: Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels, Be sure, you be not loose: for those you make friends
* Thicket of thorns.
§ Sometime.
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 sink ye.
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
Of her, that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with; even of her
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the king.
THE BLESSINGS 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 glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.
QUEEN KATHARINE'S SPEECH TO HER HUSBAND
Alas, sir,
In what have I offended you? what cause
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 dislike,
Yea, subject to your countenance: glad, or sorry,
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour,
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
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 mine liking? nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
With many children by you: If, in the course
And process 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 person, in God's name,
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharpest kind of justice.
QUEEN KATHARINE'S SPEECH TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
You are meek, and humble mouth'd;
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,*
With meekness and humility: but your heart
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen and pride.
You have, by fortune, and his highness' favours
Gone slightly o'er high steps; and now are mounted
Where powers are your retainers: and your words,
Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,
You tender more your person's honour, than
Your high profession spiritual.
XING HENRY'S CHARACTER OF QUEEN KATHARINE.
That man i' the world, who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
For speaking false in that; Thou art, alone,
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,-
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thec 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
Still met the king? lov'd him next heav'n? obey'd him?
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?
Almost forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords.
* Appearance. + Speak out thy merits.
Served him with superstitious attention.
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.
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd I'll hang my head, and perish.
OBEDIENCE TO PRINCES.
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it: but to stubborn spirits,
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.
OUTWARD EFFECTS OF HORror.
Some strange commotion
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then, lays his finger on his temple; straight,
Springs out into fast gait:* then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard: and anon, he casts
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.
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.
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
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.
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,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon 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
many 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; O, 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, 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 miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
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