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Page 54 - 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...
Page 55 - 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.
Page 57 - He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
Page 37 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling...
Page 22 - Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet ; For every pelting, petty officer, Would use his heaven for thunder ; nothing but thunder.
Page 39 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
Page 39 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and...
Page 40 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Page 39 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes , And whistles in his sound.
Page 53 - 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.