[King Henry VIII. continued.

And then to breakfast, with

What appetite you have.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

I have touch'd the highest point of all my great

ness,

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.

Press not a falling man too far.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

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.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

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.

And sleep in dull, cold marble.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour.

I charge thee, fling away By that sin fell the angels.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

ambition :

Act iii. Sc. 2.

King Henry VIII. continued.]

Love thyself last cherish those hearts that hate

thee,

Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues: be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity! Act iv. Sc. 2.

He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace.
Act iv. Sc. 2.

So may he rest: his faults lie gently on him.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

He was a man

Of an unbounded stomach.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.1

Act iv. Sc. 2.

1 For men use, if they have an evil tourne, to write it in marble and whoso doth us a good tourne we write Sir Thomas More, Richard III.

it in duste.

L'injure se grave en metal

Et le bienfait s'escrit en l'onde.

Jean Bertaut (1570–1611), Carey's French Poets.

[King Henry VIII. continued.

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading :
Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not;
But to those men that sought him, sweet as Sum-
Act iv. Sc. 2.

mer.

After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.

And farewell goes out sighing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

And give to dust, that is a little gilt,

Act iii. Sc. 3.

More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.

Act iii. Sc. 3.

And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,

Be shook to air.

Act iii. Sc. 3.

The end crowns all.

Act iv. Sc. 5.

CORIOLANUS.

I thank you for your voices, thank you,-
Your most sweet voices.

Act ii. Sc. 3.

Hear you this Triton of the minnows?

Act iii. Sc. I.

His nature is too noble for the world :
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for his power to thunder.

Serv. Where dwellest thou?

Cor. Under the canopy.

A name unmusical to the Volscians'

And harsh in sound to thine.

Chaste as the icicle,

Act iii. Sc. I.

Act iv. Sc. 5.

ears,

Act iv. Sc. 5.

That's curded by the frost from purest snow,

And hangs on Dian's temple.

Act v. Sc. 3.

If you have writ your annals true, 't is there, That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I

Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli:

Alone I did it.

Boy!1

Act v. Sc. 6.

TITUS ANDRONICUS.

Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.

Act i. Sc. 2.

She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd;
She is a woman, therefore may be won;

She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd.
What, man! more water glideth by the mill
Than wots the miller of; and easy it is

Of a cut loaf to steal a shive.

1 Act v. Sc. 5, Singer, Knight.

Act ii. Sc. I.

ROMEO AND JULIET.

The weakest goes to the wall.

Act i. Sc. I.

Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

Acti. Sc. I.

An hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east.

Act i. Sc. I.

As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Saint-seducing gold.

Acti. Sc. I.

Act i. Sc. 1.

He that is stricken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.

Act i. Sc. 1.

One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.

Act i. Sc. 2.

That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story.

Act i. Sc. 3.

For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase.

Act i. Sc. 4.

O, then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Over men's noses as they lie asleep.

Act i. Sc. 4.