Act. V.Sc. II.
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust ?
And, live we how we can, yet die we must. 27
HENRY VIII. Act. II. Sc. Ill
It Is better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perked up in a glistering grief,
And wear a goldea sorrow. 28
Act, III. Sc. II.
Fare well ! a long farewell, to all my greatness !
This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him :
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me,
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye :
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours !
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
1 served my King, He would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies,
