FALL OF CARDINAL WOLSEY. "HENRY VIII," Act III, Scene 2. Cardinal Wolsey, after his fall from the favor of Henry VIII, thus soliloquizes, and afterward confers with his servant Cromwell: Wolsey. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth Enter Cromwell, amazedly. Why, how now, Cromwell? Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. Crom. 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, Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell, The king has gone beyond me; all my glories well; Go, get thee from me, Crom I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now Some little memory of me will stir him, (I know his noble nature) not to let Thy hopeful service perish, too: Good Cromwell, Crom. Wol. What, amazed at my misfortunes; can thy | So good, so noble, and so true a master? I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders, These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. Wol. I hope I have; I am able now, methinks (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel), To endure more miseries, and greater far, 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 Forever, and forever, shall be yours. Wol. 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, Love thyself last cherish those hearts that hate thee; TOUCHSTONE AND AUDREY. "AS YOU LIKE IT," Act III, Scene 3. Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? doth my simple feature content you? Aud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what features? Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. When a man's verses can not be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. Aud. I do not know what "poetical" is; is it honest in deed and word? is it a true thing? Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign. Aud. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical? Touch. I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign. Aud. Would you not have me honest ? Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hardfavored; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest. Touch. Well, praised be the gods. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us. Aud. Well, the gods give us joy! THE SEVEN AGES. "AS YOU LIKE IT," Act II, Scene 7. The banished duke, with Jaques and other lords, are in the forest of Arden, sitting at their plain repast. Orlando, who has been wandering in the forest in quest of food for an old servant, Adam, who can "go no further," suddenly comes upon the party, and with his sword drawn, exclaims: More than your force move us to gentleness. Orla. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you; I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are, That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days; In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. Duke Sen. True it is that we have seen better days; And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church; Orla. Then but forbear your food a little while, Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,— I will not touch a bit. Duke Sen. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till your return. Orla. I thank ye: and be bless'd for your good comfort. [Exit.] Duke Sen. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theater Presents more woful pageants than the scene Jaq. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; MACBETH'S IRRESOLUTION BEFORE THE MURDER OF DUNCAN. Act I, Scene 7. "MACBETH," Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: If the assassination Who should against his murtherer shut the door, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, To prick the sides of my intent, but only |