A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed: Sheba was never
More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue,
Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her;
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:
She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: her own shall bless
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow: good grows with
In her days, every man shall eat in safety
Under his own vine what he plants; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour 5,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her: but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness)
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him:
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations: he shall flourish,
the perfect WAYS of honour,] The old copies have, "way of honour;" but the next line shows, as Monck Mason observed, that we ought to read
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him. Our children's children
Shall see this, and bless heaven.
Thou speakest wonders.
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would I had known no more! but she must die:
She must; the saints must have her: yet a virgin,
A most unspotted lily shall she pass
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
K. Hen. O, lord archbishop!
Thou hast made me now a man: never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has so pleased me,
That when I am in heaven I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.-
I thank ye all. To you, my good lord mayor,
And you, good brethren, I am much beholding:
I have received much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful.-Lead the way, lords:-
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye;
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
He has business at his house', for all shall stay:
This little one shall make it holiday.
Thou speakest wonders.] Here Malone and others would terminate what they look upon as an insertion in the play, subsequent to its first production. They "suspected" that the lines were added by a different hand in 1613. The commencement of this imagined interpolation they fixed at the line, "Nor shall this peace sleep with her," &c.
7 HE HAS business at his house,] For the sake of the verse, the folio, 1623, but it here presents us with a contraction: "He has" is expressed by 'Has; is unnecessary to adopt it, if "He has" be read in the time of one syllable. Sometimes in the folio, 1623, he has is abbreviated thus-h' as; and in the next page we meet with Whare for "We have." There is, perhaps, no play in the volume in which the arbitrary contractions are more frequent.
"Tis ten to one, this play can never please
All that are here. Some come to take their ease,
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,
They'll say, 'tis naught: others, to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry,-"that's witty,"
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,
All the expected good we 're like to hear
For this play, at this time, is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we show'd 'em. If they smile,
And say, 'twill do, I know, within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
If they hold, when their ladies bid 'em clap.
GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS,
ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.
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