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That trembles under his devouring paws;
The Blessings of a Shepherd's Life. And so he walks insulting o'er his prey ;
O God! -methinks it were a happy life, And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. To be no better than a homely swain ; The Duke of York on the gallant behaviour of To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
To sit upon a hill, as I do now, his Sons. My sons-God knows what hath bechanced Thereby to see the minutes how they run: them :
How many make the hour full complete,
selves But this I know-they have demean'd them- How many hours bring about the day, Like inen born to renown, by life, or death.
How many days will finish up the year, Three times did Richard make a lane to me,
How many years a mortal man may live : And thrice cried, “ Courage, father! fight'it When this is known, then to divide the times : out!"
So many hours must I tend my flock ;
So many hours must I take my rest;
hours must I contemplate ;
So many hours must I sport myself ; And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
So many days my ewes have been with young;
So many weeks ere the Richard cried, Charge ! and give no foot of So many months ere I shall sheer the Heece;
fools will yean; And cried, “A crown, or else a glorious tomb! So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and
years, A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre !" With this we charg'd again; but out, alas !
Pass'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. We body'd again; as I have seen a swan
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how With bootless labor swim against the tide, And spend her strength with over-matching Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, A Father's Passion on the Murder of a favorite Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy Child.
To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? O tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide ! O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the And to conclude,—the shepherd's homely curds, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, (child, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, Aud yet be seen to bear a woman's face? His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and Alexible ; All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Thou stern, obdurate, Ainty, rough, remorseless. Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup, That face of his the hungry cannibals His body couched in a curious bed, Would not have touchd, would not have When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
stain'd with blood; But you are more inhuman, more inexorable
Mob. 0, ien times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. Look, as I blow this feather from my face, See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears:
And as the air blows it to me again, This cloth thou dipp’dst in blood of my sweel Obeying with my wind when I do blow, boy,
And yielding to another when it blows, And I with tears do wash the blood away.
Cominanded always by the greater gust; Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: Such is the lightness of you common men. And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right,
A Simile on ambitious Thoughts. Upon my soul the hearers will shed tears ;
Why, then, I do but dream on sov'reignty; Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears,
Like one that stands upon a promontory, And say, “ Alas, it was a piteous deed!”
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, The Duke of York in Battle. Wishing his foot were equal with his eye! Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop, And chides the sea that sunders him from As doth a lion in a herd of neat;
thence, Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, Saying-he'll lade it dry to have his way. Who having pinch'da few, and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him.
Why, love forswore me in my mother's The Morning;
womb, See how the morning opes her golden gates, and, for I should not deal in her soft laws, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun !
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe How well resembles it the prime of youth, To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love! To make an envious mountain on my back, The Morning's Dawn.
Where sits deformity to mock my body; The battle fares like to the morning's war, To shape my legs of an unequal size : When dying clouds contend with growing To disproportion me in every part, light;
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, That carries no impression like the dain. Can neither call it perfect diy nor night. And am I then a man to be belor'di
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile: trees; And cry, content, to that which grieres my The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, heart;
And chattering pies in dismal discord sung: And wet my cheeks with artificial tears ; Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And frame my face to all occasions :
And yet brought forth less than a mother's I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; To wit-an indigest, deformed lump, (hope; I'll stay more gazers than the basilisk; Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. (born, I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Teeth had'st thou in thy head when thou wast Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, To signify thou cam'st to bite the world : And, like a Sinon, take another Troy: And, if the rest be true which I have heard, I can add colors to the cameleon ;
Thou cam’st “ into the world with thy legs Change shapes with Proteus, for advantages,
forward." And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school. Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? Ø 25. THE LIFE OF HENRY VIII. Henry VI. on his own Lenity.
SHAKSPEARE. I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands,
Anger. Nor posted off their suits with slow delays ;
-To climb steep hills, My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, A full-hot horse ; who, being allow'd his way, Ny mercy dried their water-fowing tears. Self-mettle tires him. I have not been desirous of their wealth,
Action to be carried on with Resolution. Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies,
-If I am Nor forward of revenge, tho' they much err’d. Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither The Earl of Warwick's dying Speech.
My faculties, nor person, yet will be [know Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, The Chronicles of my doing let me say, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick?' Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake Why ask I that? My mangled body shows;
That virtue must go through. We must not My blood, my want of strength,
my sick heart Our necessary actions, in the fear [stint That I must yield my body to the earth, [shows To cope malicious censurers; which ever, And, by my fall, the conquest to my roe.
As rar'nous fishes, do a vessel follow Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
That is new-trimm'd; but benefit no further
Than Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
vainly longing What we oft do best, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept; By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading
. Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up,
ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful For our best act. 'If we shall stand still, These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, black veil,
We should take root here where we sit, or sit Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
New Customs. To search the secret treasons of the world.
-New customs, The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ; [blood, Though they be never so ridiculous, For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave? Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. And tho durst smile when Warwick bent his The Duke of Buckingham's Prayer for the King. brow?
May he live Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! Longer than I have time to tell his years! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Ever beloved, and loving, may his rule be! Een now forsake me; and, of all my lands,
And, when old time shall lead him to his end, Is nothing left me, but my body's length.
Goodness and he fill up one monument !
Dependants not to be too much trusted by great Queen Margaret's Speech before the Battle of
This from a dying man receive as certain : Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I where you are liberal of your loves and coun
[friends, My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, Ye see, I drink the water of my eyes. [reign, And give your hearts to, when they once per
Be sure you be not loose: for those you make Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sove- ceive Is prisoner to the foe, his state usurp'd, The least rub in your fortunes, fall away His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, Like water fronı ye, never found again His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent; But where they mean to sink ye. And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil:
A Good Wife. You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords,
A loss of her, Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years Omens on the Birth of Richard III. About his neck, yet never lost her lustre: The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign; Of her, that loves him with that excellence The night-crow cried, a boding luckless tune; That angels love good nien with; even of her,
That when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, Still met the king? lov'd him next Heaven? Will bless a king.
obey'd him? The Blessings of a low Station. Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him? -_'Tis better to be lowly born,
Almost forgot my prayers to content him? And range with humble livers in content,
And am I thus rewarded? Tis not well, lords. Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief,
Bring me a constant woman to her husband, And wear a golden sorrow.
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond bis plea
sure; Queen Catharine's Speech to her Husband.
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet I will add an honorma great patience.
Queen Catharine compared to a Lily.
Like the lily, rish'd, And take your good grace from me? Heaven That once was mistress of the field, and Aouwitness,
I'll hang my head, and perish. I have been to you a true and humble wife,
Obedience to Princes. At all times to your will conformable:
The hearts of princes kiss obedience, Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
So much they love it: but to stubborn spirits Yea, subject to your count'nance; glad or sorry They swell and grow as terrible as storms. As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour,
Horror, its outward Effects. I ever contradicted your desire, [friends
Some strange commotion Or made it not mine too? Which of your Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts ; Have I not strove to love, although I knew Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, He were mine enemy? What friend of mine, Then lays his finger on his temple : straight That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I Springs out into fast gait; then stops again, Continue in my liking? 'nay, gave notice, Sirikes his breast hard; and anon he casts He was from thencedischargd? Sir, call to mind His eye against the moon: in most strange posThat I have been your wife, in this obedience, We've seen him set himself.
[tures Upward of twenty years; and have been bless'd
Firm Allegiance. With many children by you. If, in the course
-Though perils did
[and And process of this time, you can report, Abound as thick as thought could make 'em, And prove it too, against mine honor aught,
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty, My bond to wedlock, or ny love and duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Against your sacred person, in God's name
Should the approach of this wild river break, Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt And stand unshaken yours. Shut door upon me, and so give me up To the sharpest kind of justice.
Anger, its external Effects.
What sudden anger's this? How have I reap'd Queen Catharine's Speech to Cardinal Wolsey. He parted frowning from me, as if ruin [it?
-You are meck and humble mouth'd ; Leap'd from his eyes : so looks the chafed You sign your place and calling, in full seem
Upon the daring huntsman that has galla With meekness and humility: but your heart Then makes him nothing. Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
Falling Greatness. You have, by fortune, and his highness' fa
-Nay, then farewell! [greatness; vors,
(mounted, I have touch'd the highest point of all my Goue slightly o'er low steps; and now are And, from that full meridian of my glory, Where pow'rs are your retainers: and your I haste now to my setting. I shall fall, words,
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
The Vicissitudes of Life.
Farewell, a long farewell,
to all my greatness ! King Henry's Character of Queen Catharine. This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
That man i' the world who shall report he has The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blosA better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
[him : For speaking false in that: Thou art, alone, And bears his blushing honors thick upon (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, and when he thinks, good easy man, full surely Obeying in commanding, and thy parts His greatness is a ripening, nips his root, Sovereign and pious else, could but speak thee And then he falls, as I do. I' have ventur’d, The queen of earthly queens.
(out) Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders, On her own Merit.
This many summers in a sea of glory, Have I liv'd thus long (let me speak myself, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown Since virtue finds no friends) a wife, a true one? pride
[me, A woman (I dare say without vain-glory) At length broke under me; and now has left Never yet branded with suspicion?
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Have I with all my full affection
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye! | Pursued him still; and three nights after this,
His Vices and Virtues.
So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, Cardinal Wolsey's Speech to Cromwell. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
And yet with charity-he was a man In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me,
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
Himself with princes : one, that by suggestion Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Crom- Tied all the kingdom : simony was fair play; well;
His own opinion was his law: l' the presence And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
He would say untruths; and be ever double, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no men
Both in his words and meaning: He was never, tion
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful : Of me must more be heard, say then, I taught But his performance, as he now is, nothing.
promises were, as he then was, mighty! Say, Wolsey, that once rode the waves of glory, of his own body he was ill, and gave And sounded all the depths and shoals of ho
The clergy ill example. nor, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues
Griff Noble Madam,
We write in water.
. . This cardinal, Cromwell, I'charge thee, fling away arnbition ; By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly (th' image of his Maker) hope to win by't?
Was fashion'd to much honor. From his Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
cradle thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not; Tosilence envious tongues. Bejust, and fear not: But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's,
summer. Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall's, 0 And though he were unsatisfied in getting Cromwell,
(Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam, Thou fallist a blessed martyr. Serve the king; Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you,
He was most princely; ever witness for him, And prythee, lead me in :There take an inventory of all I have,
Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with To the last penny: 'tis the king's: My robe,
him, And my integrity to Heaven, is all [well, Unwilling to out-live the good he did it : I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Crom- | The
other, though unfinish’d, yet so famous, Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
So excellent in art, and still so rising, I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. Have left me naked to mine enemies !
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he feli himself,
And found the blessedness of being little.
And, to add greater honors to his age
Malicious Men. (Doublets, I think) Aew up; and had their
-Men that make faces
[joy Envy and crooked malice nourishment, Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such Dare bite the best.I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
A Church-Man. That had not half a week to go, like rams
--Love and meekness, Lord, In the old time of war, would shake the press, Become a churchman better than ambition, And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living Win straying souls with modesty again, Could say, “ this is my wife," there; all were Cast none away. So strangely in one piece.
-'Tis a cruelty,
Let me speak, Sir,
[her!) Give him a little earth for charity!"
This royal infant (Heaven still move about So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness Though'in a cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand, thousand blessings, And talking of the Alps and Apennines,
A Description of England.
That pale, that white-fac'd shore, With all the virtues that attend the good, [her; Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse tides, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her; and coops from other lands her islanders ; She shall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own shall Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, bless her;
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
Salute thee for her king.
Description of an English Army.
His marches are expedient to this town, God shall be truly known: and those about her His forces strong, his soldiers confident. Froin her shall read the perfect ways of honor, With him along is come the mother queen, And by those claim their greatness, not by An Até, stirring him to blood and strife; blood.
With her, her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain; Norshall this peace sleep with her; but, as when With them, a bastard of the king deceas'd; The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phenix, And all the unsettled humors of the land Her ashes r.ew create another heir,
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, As great in admiration as herself;
With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleensSo shall she leave her blessedness to one
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, (When Heaven shall call her from this cloud Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, of darkness)
To make a hazard of new fortunes here. Who, from the sacred ashes of her honor,
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er, And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, Did never float upon the swelling tide, terror,
To do offence and scath in Christendom. That were the servants to this chosen infant,
The interruption of their churlish drums Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; Cuts off more circumstance; they are at hand. Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
Courage. His honor and the greatness of his name By how much unexpected, by so much Shall be, and make new nations. He shall We must awake endeavour for defence; flourish,
For courage mounteth with occasion. And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
A Boaster. To all the plains about him : our children's
What cracker is this saine, that deafs our ear Shall see this, and bless Heaven. [children with this abundance of superfluous breath? $26. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF
Description of Victory, ly the French. KING JOHN.
You men of Angiers, open wide your gates, New Titles.
And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in; “Good-den, Sir Richard-God a' mercy Who, by the hand of France, this day hath fellow,"
[ther, And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter: Much work for tears in many an English moFor new-made honor doth forget men's names; Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground; "Tis too respective and too sociable For your conversion. Now your traveller Coldly embracing the discolor'd earth; He and his tooth-pick at my worship’s mess :
and victory, with little loss, doth play And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd,
Upon the dancing banners of the French; Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise
Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd, My picked man of countries :-My dear Sir,
To enter conquerors. (Thus leaning on mine elbow, I begin)
By the English. “ I shall beseech you"-that is question now; Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells; And then comes answer like an Å B C book, King John, your king, and England's, doth “O Sir," says answer, "at your best command, approach, “At your employinent, at your service, Sir:"-Commander of this hot malicious day! “No, Sir," says question, “ 1, sweet Sir, at Their armors that march'd hence so silver yours.
bright, And so, ere answer knows what question would, Hither returu allgilt with Frenchinen's blood; (Saving in dialogue of compliment;
There stuck no plume in any English crest,