Henry VIII by William Shakespeare
page 93 of 141 (65%)
page 93 of 141 (65%)
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At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder
A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep I am falne indeed Crom. How does your Grace Card. Why well: Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell, I know my selfe now, and I feele within me, A peace aboue all earthly Dignities, A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me, I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these shoulders These ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty, taken A loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.) O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burden Too heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen Crom. I am glad your Grace, Ha's made that right vse of it Card. I hope I haue: I am able now (me thinkes) (Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele) To endure more Miseries, and greater farre Then my Weake-hearted Enemies, dare offer. What Newes abroad? Crom. The heauiest, and the worst, Is your displeasure with the King Card. God blesse him |
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