New cuftoms,
Though they be never fo ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
ACT II. SCENE II.
The Duke of Buckingham's Prayer for the King.
May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years!
Ever belov'd; and loving may his rule be!
And when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodnefs, and he fill up one monument!
Dependants not to be too much trusted by great Men,
This from a dying man receive as certain :
Where you are lib'ral of your loves and counfels,
Beware you
be not loofe; those you make friends,
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again,
But where they mean to fink ye.
SCENE III. A good Wife.
A lofs of her,
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his Neck, yet never loft her luftre;
Of her, that loves him with that excellence,
That angels love good men with; even of her,
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will blefs the king.
SCENE V. The Bleffings of a low Station. (1) 'Tis better to be lowly born,. range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glitt'ring grief, And wear a golden forrow.
And
SCENE VI. Queen Catherine's Speech to her Hufband.
(z) Alas, fir,
In what have I offended you? What cause
Hath my behaviour giv'n to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,
And take your good grace from me? Heav'n witness,
I've been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will, conformable:
Ever in fear to kindle your diflike,
Yea, fubject to your count'nance; glad or forry,
As I faw it inclin'd: when was the hour,
I ever contradicted your defire?
Or made it not mine too? Which of your friends
Have I not ftrove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? What friend of mine,
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
(1) See the 50th page foregoing. Horace thus advises in his roth epiftle, L. 1.
Fuge magna, &c.
Forfake the gaudy tinfel of the great;
The peaceful cottage beckons a retreat:
Where true content a folid comfort brings
To kings unknown, or favourites of kings.
(2) Alas, fir,] The reader will find in the 2d fcene of the 38 act of the Winter's Tale, a fpeech, made by the queen, on being accufed by her husband, very fimilar to this: 'Tis spoken in court, where the innocent Hermione appear'd, and was condemned by her jealous husband,
Continue
Continue in my liking? Nay, gave notice,
He was from thence difcharg'd. Sir, call to mind,.
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upwards of twenty years; and have been bleft
With many children by you. If in the courfe
And procefs of this time, you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond of wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred perfon; in God's name,.
Turn me away; and let the foul'ft contempt
Shut door upon me, and fo give me up
To the sharpest kind of justice.
Queen Catherine's Speech to Cardinal Wolfey. -You are meek, and humble-mouth'd; You fign your place and calling, in full seeming, With meekness and humility: but your heartIs cramm'd with arrogancy, fpleen, and pride: You have by fortune, and his highness' favours, Gone flightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted, Where pow'rs are your retainers; and your words, Domesticks to you, ferve your will, as't please Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell You tender more your perfon's honour, than Your high profeffion spiritual.
you,
ACT III. SCENE I.
-On her own Merit..
Have I liv'd thus long (let me speak myself,
Since virtue finds no friends) a wife, a true one?
A woman (I dare fay, without vain-glory)
Never yet branded with fufpicion ?
Have I, with all my full affections,
Still met the king? Lov'd him, next heav'n obey'd him?
Been
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him?
Almoft forgot my prayers to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well, lords.
Bring me a conftant woman to her husband,
One, that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ;;
And to that woman, when he has done moft,
Yet will I add an honour; a great patience.
Qucen Catherine compared to a Lilly.
(3) Like the lilly,
That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head and perish.
Obedience to Princes.
The hearts of princes kifs obedience,
So much they love it: but to ftubborn fpirits,
They fwell, and grow as terrible as storms.
SCENE III. Horror, its outward Effects.
Some strange commotion
Is in his brain; he bites his lip, and ftarts;
Stops on a fudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple; ftrait,
Springs out into faft gate, then stops again;
Strikes his breaft hard, and then, anon, he cafts
His eye against the moon: in most strange poftures
We've seen him fet himself..
(3) Like the lilly,] So Spencer calls
The lilly, lady of the flow'ring field.
Faerie Queene, B. 2, 5, 6. f. 16.
Firm
Firm Allegiance.
Though perils did
Abound, as thick as thought could make 'em, and
Appear in forms horrid; yet my duty,
(4) As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And ftand unshaken yours.
SCENE IV. Anger, its external Effects.
What fudden anger's this? How have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap'd from his eyes. (5) So looks the chafed lion
(4) As dotb, &c.] This fimile is ufed both by Virgil and Homer :-
He, like a rock amidst the feas, unmov'd,
Stands oppofite refifting: like a rock
Amidst the fea: which while the roaring tide
Encroaches, with its weight itfelf fuftains
Among the noify waves: in vain the cliffs
Foaming rebellow loud and all around
The broken fea-weed dashes on its fides.---
See Trap Æn. 7.
He like a rock, which o'er the ocean wide,
Hangs prominent, expos'd to winds and waves
And all the rage of sea and fky endures:
Stands fixt, unmov'd----
(5) So looks, &c.]
So when on fultry Libya's defert fand,
The lion fpies the hunter hard at hand:
Couch'd on the earth the doubtful favage lies,
And waits awhile, till all his fury rife:
His lahing tail provokes his fwelling fides,
And high upon his neck, his mane with horror rides :
Then, if at length the flying dart infest,
Or the broad fpear invade his ample breaft,
Scorning the wound, he yawns a dreadful roar,
And flies like lightning on the hoftile Moor.
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