The Life of King Henry the Eighth, Band 24

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Yale University Press, 1925 - 166 Seiten
 

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Seite 80 - t ? 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...
Seite 89 - 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 summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting, Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely : ever witness for him Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent...
Seite 80 - 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...
Seite 78 - 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.
Seite 89 - Noble madam, Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water. May it please your highness To hear me speak his good now ? Kath.
Seite 88 - O, father abbot, 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...
Seite 78 - Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Seite 78 - This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
Seite 80 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced 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...
Seite 81 - Pr'ythee, lead me in : 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, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.

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