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And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Wol. 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
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripning, nips his shoot ;
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
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
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. Oh, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours !
There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
Why, how now,
Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
At my misfortunes ? Can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.
How does your Grace ? Wol.
Why, well ; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now, and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities; A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me. I humbly thank his Grace; and, from these shoulders, These ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken A load would sink a navy, too much honour. Oh, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven !
Go get thee from me, Cromwell ;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master. Seek the King.
(That sun I pray may never set,) I've told him
What, and how true thou art; he will advance thee,
Some little memory of me will stir him
(I know his noble nature) not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Croniwell,
Neglect him not; make use now and provide
For thine own future safety.
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.
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 must more be heard, say then I taught thee ;
Say Wolsey, that once rode the waves of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me.
Cromwell, I charge thee fling away ambition ;
By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then
(Though th' 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.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
Thy God's and Truth's ; then if thou fallist, O Cromwell,
Thou fall’st a blessed martyr !
Lead me in, and take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny, 'tis the King's. My robe,
And my integrity to Heav'n, is all
I dare now call my 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 !
EVENING IN PARADISE.
John MILTON, 1608—1674.
Now came still evening on, and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad :
Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk; all but the wakeful nightingale ;
She all night long her amorous descant sung ;
Silence was pleased : now glow'd the firmament
With living sapphires ; Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest ; till the moon
Rising in clouded majesty, at length,
Apparent queen, unveild her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.
When Adam thus to Eve : "
Fair consort, the hour
Of night, and all things now retired to rest,
Mind us of like repose ; since God hath set
Labour and rest, as day and night, to men
Successive; and the timely dew of sleep,
Now falling with soft slumb’rous weight, inclines
Our eyelids; other creatures all day long
Rove idle, unemploy'd, and less need rest :
Man hath his daily work of body or mind
Appointed, which declares his dignity,
And the regard of heaven on all his ways :
While other animals unactive range,
And of their doings God takes no account.
To-morrow, ere fresh morning streak the east
With first approach of light, we must be risen,
And at our pleasant labour, to reform
Yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green,
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown,
That mock our scant manuring, and require
More hands than ours to lop their wanton growth.
Those blossoms also, and those dropping gums,
That lie bestrown, unsightly and unsmooth,
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease;
Meanwhile, as nature wills, night bids us rest."
To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorn'd :
“My author and disposer, what thou bidd’st
Unargued I obey : so God ordains.
God is thy law, thou mine : to know no more
Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise.
With thee conversing, I forget all time;
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night,
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train :
But neither breath of morn, when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising sun
On this delightful land ; nor herb, fruit, flower,
Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers;
Nor grateful evening mild ; nor silent night,
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon,
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.
But wherefore all night long shine these? For whom
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes ?”
To whom our general ancestor replied ;
“Daughter of God and man, accomplish'd Eve,
Those have their course to finish round the earth
By morrow evening ; and from land to land
In order, though to nations yet unborn,
Ministering light prepared, they set and rise ;
Lest total darkness should by night regain
Her old possession, and extinguish life
In nature and all things ; which these soft fires
Not only enlighten, but, with kindly heat
Of various influence, foment and warm,
Temper or nourish, or in part shed down
Their stellar virtue on all kinds that grow
On earth, made hereby apter to receive
Perfection from the sun's more potent ray.
These, then, though unbeheld in deep of night,
Shine not in vain. Nor think, though men were none,
That heaven would want spectators, God want praise :
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep ;
All these with ceaseless praise his works behold
Both day and night. How often, from the steep
Of echoing hill or thicket, have we heard
Celestial voices to the midnight air,
Sole, or responsive each to other's note,
Singing their Great Creator! oft in bands
While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk,
With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds,
In full harmonic number join'd, their songs
Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven.”
Thus talking, hand in hand along they pass'd
On to their blissful bower; it was a place
Chosen by the sovran Planter, when he framed
All things to man's delightful use : the roof
Of thickest covert was inwoven shade,
Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew