Henry VIII by William Shakespeare
page 96 of 141 (68%)
page 96 of 141 (68%)
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By that sinne fell the Angels: how can man then
(The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it? Loue thy selfe last, cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more then Honesty. Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace To silence enuious Tongues. Be iust, and feare not; Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy Countries, Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell) Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr. Serue the King: And prythee leade me in: There take an Inuentory of all I haue, To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe, And my Integrity to Heauen, is all, I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel, Had I but seru'd my God, with halfe the Zeale I seru'd my King: he would not in mine Age Haue left me naked to mine Enemies Crom. Good Sir, haue patience Card. So I haue. Farewell The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell. Exeunt. Actus Quartus. Scena Prima. Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another. |
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