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Whofe arms gave shelter to the princely eagle;
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ;
Whose top-branch over-peerd Jove's spreading tree;
And kept low shrubs from winter's pow'rful wind.

that now are dim'd with death's black veil,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day fun,
To search the secret treasons of the world.
The wrinkles in my brow, now fill'd with blood,
Were lik’ned oft to kingly fepulchres :
For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow
Lo! now my glory linear'd in dust and blood,
(11) My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,


the length of his branches : for his root was by great waters. 8. The cedars in the garden of God could not hide him : the fir-trees were not like his boughs, and the chesnut-trees were not like his branches; not any tree in the garden of God was like unto him in his beauty, &c. 12. And strangers, the terrible of the nations have cut him off, and have left him: upon the mountains, and in all the valleys his branches are fallen, and his boughs are broken by all the rivers of the land, and all the people of the earth are gone down from his shadow, and have left him. 13. Upon his ruin thall all the fowls of the heaven remain, and all the beasts of the field shall be upon his branches, &c. See the chapter.

The scriptures, and more especially the prophets, abound with many similar passages, sublime and exalted as this, which it would be endless to produce here.

(11) My parks, &c.].“ I won't venture to affirm, says” Mr. Theobald, our author is imitating Horace here : but surely this passage is very much of a cast with that which I am about to qyote.”

Linquenda tellus, & domus, & placens
Uxor: neque harum quas colis, artorum
Te præter invisas cipreffos,
Ulla brevem dominum fequetur.

B, 2. ode 14h
Thy spacious fields, thy splendid house,
Thý pleasing wife must thou forego,
Nor of those trees, thy hands have rais’d,


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Ev'n now forfake ine ; and of all my lands
Is nothing left me but my body's length.

Queen Margaret's Speech before the - Battle of

Tewksbury. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I shou'd say, My tears gainsay; for every word 2 speak, Yé fee, I drink the water of my eye; Therefore no more but this : Henry, your sovereign Is prisoner to the foe, his state usurp’d, His realm a flaughter-house, his subjects slain, His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent; And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil; You fight in justice ; then, in God's name, Lords, Be valiant, and give signal to the battle. Scene VII. Omens on the Birth of Richard III.

(12) The owl shriek’d at thy birth, an evil fign; The night-crow cry'd, a boding luckless tune; Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees; The raven croak'd hoarse on the chimney's top, And chattering pyes in dismal discords fung: Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, To wit, an indigested, deform'd lump, Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.


Lxcept the baleful cypress boughs,

Shall one attend their fhort-liv'd lord below.
Dryden has beautifully copied the last line in his Antony and
Ckopatra, where he makes the desponding hero, throwing him-
self on the ground, thus lament,

Lie there, the shadow of an emperor,
The place thou pressest on thy mother earth

Is all thy empire now. (12) The owl, &c.] See an account of the prodigies on the birib of Gandover, p. 7. n. 6.


Teeth hadst thou in thy mouth when thou wast born,
To signify, thou cain'st to bite the world :
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou can't into the world with thy legs forward.

General Obfervations.

THE scene of this play opens (says Mrs. Lenox) just after the battle of St. Albans, wherein the York faction was victorious, and closes with the murder of King Henry the Sixth and the birth of Prince Edward, afterwards King Edward the Fifth; so that this history takes in the space of sixteen years. The facts are all extracted from Holingshed, and most of the incidents very closely copied. The struggle between the two houses of York and Lancaster for the crown being the subject pursued in this drama, every scene almost presents us with a new battle, a flying army, or the carnage of a bloody field; where the inhuman conquerors, unsated with the naughters of the fight, facrifice their defenceless enemies to the fury of their revenge, and exult over them, when dying, with a cruelly truly diabolical.

For many of the murders which the followers of each party commit on those of the other in this play, Shakespiar had no foundation in the history ; but that of the young Earl of Ruíland by Clifford, is copied with all its circumstances from Holingfbed. The character of King Henry the Sixth, whose unforturate reign makes the subject of these three plays, is drawn hy Shakespiar exactly conformable to that given him hy the historians. As to the manner of his death, several different opinions prevailed; but the poet, by making the Duke of Gloucester murder him in the Tower, has followed that which was most probable and most generally believed.

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The Life of Henry VIII.



To climb fleep hille Requires flow pace

at first. Anger is like A full-hot horfe, who, being allow'd his way, Self mettle tires him,


Aation to be carried on with Re


If I'n traduc'd by tongues, which neither know
My faculties, nor person ; yet will be
The chronicles of my doing : let me say,
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake
That virtue must go through: we must not stint
Our necessary actions, in the fear,
To cope malicious censurers; which ever,


As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow
That is new trimm'd: but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By fick interpreters, or weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow'd: what worst, as oft
Hitting a groffer quality is cry'd up
For our best act: if we stund still, in fear,
Our motion will be mock'd or carped at,
We should take root here, where we fit; or frt
State-statues only.

SCENE VI. New Customs

-New customs,
Though they be never fo ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.


The Duke of Buckingham's Prayer for the King.

May he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years !
Ever belov’d, and loving may his rule be!
And when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness, and he fill up one monument !
Dependents not to be too much trusted by great Men.

This from a dying man receive as certain :
Where you are lib'ral of your loves and counsels,
Beware you be not loose; those you make friends,
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again
But where they mean to fink ye.

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