LESSON 71.-MERCY. THE quality of mercy is not strain'd; Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; It is enthroned in the heart of kings, It is an attribute to God Himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's Though justice be thy plea, consider this— LESSON 72.-BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything.-Shakespeare. LESSON 73.-WOLSEY AND CROMWELL. Wolsey. 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 ventur'd, 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.— Enter Cromwell amazedly. Why, how now, Cromwell? Cromwell. I have no power to speak, sir. Wol. Crom. Wol. What, amaz'd How does your grace? Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. A still and quiet conscience. Why, well; The king has cur'd me, I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders, A load would sink a navy, too much honour: O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. Crom. Wol. (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,) To endure more miseries, and greater far, The heaviest and the worst, Is your displeasure with the king. God bless him! Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Wol. Crom. That's somewhat sudden: But he's a learned man. May he continue That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. Wol. That's news indeed. Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, Only about her coronation. Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell, The king has gone beyond me; all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever: No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell, To be thy lord and master: Seek the king; That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him (I know his noble nature,) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell, Crom. Neglect him not; make use now, and provide O, my lord, Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, And,-Prithee, lead me in: There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe, I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, LESSON 74.-HUBERT AND ARTHUR. Enter Hubert and two Attendants. Hubert. HEAT me these irons hot; and, look thou stand The Attendants go out. look to 't. Hub. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. Enter Arthur. Arthur. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. Good morrow, little prince. Arth. Mercy on me! Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? No, indeed, is 't not; And I would to heaven Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day : That I might sit all night, and watch with you: |