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And therefore,-since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,-
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

DAY-BREAK.

The silent hours steal on,
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.

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DECEIT. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice !

HOPE.

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

A FINE EVENING.
The weary sun hath made a golden set,
And, by the bright track of his fiery car,
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.

RICHMOND'S PRAYER. O Thou, whose captain I account myself, Look on my forces with a gracious eye; Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall The usurping helmets of our adversaries ! Make us thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise thee in thy victory! To thee I do commend my watchful soul Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes; Sleeping, and waking, 0, defend me still !

RICHARD STARTING OUT OF HIS DREAM. Give me another horse, bind up my wounds, Have mercy, Jesu !-Soft; I did but dream.O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!The lights burn blue.--It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself ?

CONSCIENCE.

Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devised at first to keep the strong in awe.

KING HENRY VIII.

ANGER.

To climb steep hills,
Requires slow pace at first : anger is like
A full hot horse, who being allowed his way,
Self-mettle tires him.

NEW CUSTOMS.

New customs,
Though they be, never so ridiculous,
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are fullow'd.

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 a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.

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.

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.

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CARDINAL WOLSEY'S SPEECH TO CROMWELL. 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, 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;

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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,
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; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;
And,-Prythee, 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.

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,
These 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 !

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