So stood the state when Henry the Sixth Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot; For then this land was famously enrich'd With politic grave counsel; then the king Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. Why, so hath this, both by the father and mother. Better it were they all came by the father, Or by the father there were none at all; For emulation now, who shall be nearest, Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester!
Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well. When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. All may be well; but, if God sort it so, 'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. Truly, the souls of men are full of dread: Ye cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of fear.
'AHS: Apocalypse' - The Biggest Questions That Need to Be Answered in the Finale
Before the times of change, still is it so: By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see The waters swell before a boisterous storm. But leave it all to God. Marry, we were sent for to the justices. And so was I: I'll bear you company.
Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton; At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night: To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. I long with all my heart to see the prince: I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. But I hear, no; they say my son of York Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. Ay, mother; but I would not have it so. Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow.
Duke of York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper, My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloucester, 'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:' And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did object the same to thee; He was the wretched'st thing when he was young, So long a-growing and so leisurely, That, if this rule were true, he should be gracious.
Thomas Rotherham. Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is. I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd, I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. How, my pretty York? I pray thee, let me hear it. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this? Grandam, his nurse.
A NOTE ON THE LATE ROMESH C. DUTT
His nurse! If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd. Good madam, be not angry with the child. Pitchers have ears. Here comes a messenger. What news? Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold. How fares the prince?
Dream Princess 1
Well, madam, and in health. What is thy news then? Who hath committed them? The mighty dukes Gloucester and Buckingham. For what offence? The sum of all I can, I have disclosed; Why or for what these nobles were committed Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. Ay me, I see the downfall of our house! The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; Insulting tyranny begins to jet Upon the innocent and aweless throne: Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre! I see, as in a map, the end of all. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, How many of you have mine eyes beheld!
My husband lost his life to get the crown; And often up and down my sons were toss'd, For me to joy and weep their gain and loss: And being seated, and domestic broils Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors. Make war upon themselves; blood against blood, Self against self: O, preposterous And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen; Or let me die, to look on death no more! Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary.
Madam, farewell. I'll go along with you. You have no cause.
My gracious lady, go; And thither bear your treasure and your goods. For my part, I'll resign unto your grace The seal I keep: and so betide to me As well I tender you and all of yours! Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.
Novels of the Seventeenth Century
Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign The weary way hath made you melancholy. Prince Edward. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy I want more uncles here to welcome me. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show; which, God he knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous; Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : God keep you from them, and from such false friends! God keep me from false friends! My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you. God bless your grace with health and happy days! I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all. I thought my mother, and my brother York, Would long ere this have met us on the way Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell us whether they will come or no! And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.
Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come? On what occasion, God he knows, not I, The queen your mother, and your brother York, Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld. Fie, what an indirect and peevish course Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York Unto his princely brother presently? If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. Cardinal Bourchier. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory Can from his mother win the Duke of York, Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid We should infringe the holy privilege Of blessed sanctuary!
You are too senseless—obstinate, my lord, Too ceremonious and traditional Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, You break not sanctuary in seizing him. Oft have I heard of sanctuary men; But sanctuary children ne'er till now. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.
I go, my lord. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. Where it seems best unto your royal self. If I may counsel you, some day or two Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation. I do not like the Tower, of any place.
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? He did, my gracious lord, begin that place; Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. Is it upon record, or else reported Successively from age to age, he built it? Upon record, my gracious lord. But say, my lord, it were not register'd, Methinks the truth should live from age to age, As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day.
- The International Jew: the Worlds Foremost Problem.
- Tout est possible! (French Edition).
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- Study Skills for Geography, Earth and Environmental Science Students (Hodder Education Publication).
- Teuflische Zeiten: Das Jahrhundert des Hiob (German Edition);
What say you, uncle? I say, without characters, fame lives long. That Julius Caesar was a famous man; With what his valour did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valour live Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; For now he lives in fame, though not in life. I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,— Duke of Buckingham. What, my gracious lord?
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