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I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,
Let me speak, sir,
her ; Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows
with her : In her days, every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours : God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those clain their greatness, not by blood. [Nor* shall this peace sleep with her: But as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phænix, Her ashes new create another heir, As great in admiration as herself; So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of
darkness) Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
* This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession of king James.
And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth,
terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ; Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name Sball be, and make new nations : He shall flourish, And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches To all the plains about him:-Our children's child
Shall see this, and bless heaven.
Thou speakest wonders.]
most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
K. Hen. O lord archbishop, Thou hast made me now a man; never, before This happy child, did I get any thing : This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me, That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.I thank ye all,-To you, my good lord mayor, And your good brethren, I am much beholden ; I have receiv'd much honour by your presence; And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way,
lords ; Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, She will be sick else. This day, no man think He has business at his house ; for all shall stay, This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt.
'Tis ten to one, this play can never please
The play of Henry the Eighth is one of those which still keeps possession of the stage by the splendour of its pageantry. The coronation, about forty years ago, drew the people together in multitudes for a great part of the winter. Yet
is not the only merit of this play. The meek sorrows, and virtuous distress, of Katharine, have furnished soine scenes, which may be justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Katharine. Every other part may be easily conceived and easily written.