ACT II.

The Duke of Buckingham's Prayer for the King.

May he live

Longer than I have time to tell his years!

Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be,

And, when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument !

A loss of her,

A Good Wife.

That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre :
Of her that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with; even of her
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the king.

The Blessings of a Low Station.

'Tis better to be lowly born,

And range with humble livers in content,

Than to be perk'd up in glistering grief,

And wear a golden sorrow.

Queen Katharine's Speech to the King, her Husband.

Alas, sir,

In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,

And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness,

I have been to you a true and humble wife,

At all times to your will conformable :

Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,

Yea, subject to your countenance: glad or sorry,

When was the hour

As I saw it inclined.

Or made it not mine too?

I ever contradicted your desire,

Or which of your

Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy ? What friend of mine
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice

friends

He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind That I have been your wife, in this obedience, Upward of twenty years.

Queen Katharine's Speech to Cardinal Wolsey. You are meek and humble-mouth'd; You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,* With meekness and humility: but your heart Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. You have, by fortune and his highness' favours, Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted Where powers are your retainers : and your words, Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, You tender more your person's honour than Your high profession spiritual.

King Henry's Character of Queen Katharine.

That man i' the world who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
For speaking false in that. Thou art, alone
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,

Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,—
Obeying in commanding,-and thy parts

Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out), †
The queen of earthly queens.

* Appearance.

† Speak out thy merits.

ACT III.

Queen Katharine on her own Merit.

Have I liv'd thus long,―(let me speak myself,
Since virtue finds no friends),—a wife, a true one?
A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory)
Never yet branded with suspicion ?

Have I with all my full affections

Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd him?

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?*

Almost forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well, lords,
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure,
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour,—a great patience.

Obedience to Princes.

The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits,
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.

Outward Effects of a Disturbed Mind.

Some strange commotion

Is in his brain; he bites his lip, and starts;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple; straight
Springs out into fast gait; † then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts

His eye against the moon in most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.

*Served him with superstitious attention.

+ Steps.

Firm Allegiance.

Though perils did

Abound as thick as thought could make them, and
Appear in forms more horrid, yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.

External Effects of Anger.

What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin

Leap'd from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him ;
Then makes him nothing.

Falling Greatness.

Nay, then, farewell!

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness!
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.

The Vicissitudes of Life.

him;

So farewell to the little good you bear me.
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
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost;
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening,-nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,

upon

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
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.
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.

Cardinal Wolsey's Speech to Cromwell.

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd 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, where no mention Of me more must be heard of,—say I taught thee ; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,— Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by't? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee. Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,