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 Good Wife.
A loss of her,
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,

As I saw it inclined. When was the hour
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
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
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), f
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.
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 upon him ;
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,

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: 0, 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.
Cromweil, 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,