The Life of King Henry VIII.

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Cassell & Company, 1908 - 189
 

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Strona 124 - 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.
Strona 97 - em, if thou canst : leave working. SONG. Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung : as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Strona 128 - 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...
Strona 139 - He would say untruths ; and be ever double, Both in his words and meaning : He was never, But where he meant to ruin, pitiful : His promises were, as he then was, mighty ; But his performance, as he is now, nothing. Of his own body he was ill, and gave The clergy ill example. Grif. Noble madam, Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues We write in water.
Strona 175 - This royal infant, (heaven still move about her !) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be (But few now living can behold that goodness,) A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed...
Strona 127 - O my lord, Must I then leave you ? must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master ? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. — The king shall have my service ; but my prayers For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.
Strona 128 - The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? 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...
Strona 140 - After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honour from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Strona 124 - 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.
Strona 125 - 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.

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