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Página 97 - 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 opened : O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes...
Página 112 - 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.
Página 101 - Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : 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.
Página 111 - So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness Pursued him still ; and, three nights after this, About the hour of eight, (which he himself Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace.
Página 102 - Pr'ythee, 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.
Página 54 - 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.
Página 113 - Ipswich, and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little : And, to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
Página 97 - 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.
Página 100 - 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.
Página 112 - From his cradle 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: And though he were unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely.