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(But few or none living can behold that goodness)
Shall ftill be doubled on her. Truth fhall nurse her:
She fhall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own fhall blefs her;
As great in admiration as herself;
So fhall the leave her bleffedness to one,
(When heav'n fhall call her from this cloud of darkness) Who from the facred afhes of her honour
Shall ftar-like rife, as great in fame as fhe was,
And fo ftand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Love, Truth, Terrour,
King. Thou fpeakeft wonders.
Cran. She fhall be, to the happiness of England,
'Would, I had known no more! but fhe muft die, (19) She muft, the Saints must have her yet a Virgin; A moft unfpotted lilly fhe fhall pafs
To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
Thou'ft made me now a man; never, before
(19) Would I had known no more: but She must die, She must, the Saints must have her; yet a Virgin, Amoft unspotted Lilly, &c.] Thus the Editors hitherto, in thei Sagacity, have pointed this Paffage, and deftroy'd the true Senfe of it. The firft part of this Sentence is a Wish: The other should be a forrowful Continuation of the Bishop's Prophecy. But, fure, Cranmer was too wife and pious a Man, too well acquainted with the State of Mortality, to make it a part of his Lamentation that this good Princess must one time or other go to Heaven. As I point it, the Poet makes a fine Compliment to his Royal Miftrefs's Memory, to lament thas The muft die without leaving an Heir of her Body behind her.
(20) And you good Brethren,] But, the Aldermen never were call'd Brethren to the King. The Top of the Nobility are but Coufins and Counsellors. Dr. Thirlby, therefore, rightly advised; And your good Brethren
i.e. the Lord Mayor's Brethren; which is properly their Style,
IS ten to one, this Play can never please All that are here: Some come to take their eafe, And fleep an act or two; but those, we fear, We've frighted with our trumpets: fo'tis clear, They'll fay, it's naught. Others, to hear the city Abus'd extremely, and to cry, That's witty! Which we have not done neither; that, I fear, All the expected Good w'are like to hear For this Play at this time, is only in The merciful conftruction of good wom'n; (For fuch a one we fhew'd'em) If they fmile, And fay, 'twill do; I know within a while All the beft men are ours for 'tis ill hap, If they hold, when their ladies bid'em clap.
The End of the Fifth Volume.