← and in as much harmony with you, as I have lived with Pæ_tus.'

Perfifting in her determination, fhe found means to provide herself with a dagger; and one day, when the observed a more than ufual gloom on the countenance of Pætus, and perceived that death, by the hand of the executioner appeared to him more terrible than in the field of glory-perhaps too, fenfible that it was chiefly for her fake that he wifhed to live-fhe drew the dagger from her fide, and ftabbed herself before his eyes. Then inftantly plucking


the weapon from her breaft, fhe prefented it to her husband, fay

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When from her breaft chafte Arria fnatch'd the fword,


gave the deathful weapon to her lord; My wound, fhe faid, believe me, docs not fmart,

But thine, alone, my Pætus, pains my heart.

Character of Cardinal Wolfey..



Ow does your grace?

ATH. O Cromwell, fick to death:
like loaded branches bow to th'

eave their burden: reach a'chair


So now methinks I feel a little eafe.

Didft thou not tell me, Cromwell, as thou led'ft me,

That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolfey,

Was dead?

CROM. Yes, Madam but I think your



Out of the pain you fuffer'd, gave no car


- CATH. Pr'ythee, good Cromwell, tell

me how he dy'd.

If well, he stept before me happily,
For my example.

CROM. Well, the voice goes, Madam. For after the ftout earl of Northumberland Arrefted him at York, and brought him forward

(As a man forely tainted) to his answer,
He fell fick fuddenly, and grew fo ill
He could not fit his mule.

CATH. Alas, poor man!


CRC M. At laft, with eafy roads he came to Leicester,

odg'd in the abbey; where the rev'rend


With all his convent, honourably receiv'd

him ;

To whom he gave these words. "O father Abbot,

An old man broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity!"
So went to bed; where eagerly his fickness
Purfu'd him ftill, and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight (which he himself
Foretold fhould be his laft) full of repen-


Continual meditations, tears and forrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His bleffed part to heav'n, and flept in peace.

CATH. So may he reft, his faults lie bury'd with him !

Yet thus far, Cromwell, give me leave to fpeak him,


And yet with charity, he was a man
Of an unbounded ftomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes: one that by fuggef-

Tith'd all the kingdom; fimony was fair play:


His own opinion was his law. I'th' presence He would fay untruths, and be ever double Both in his words and meaning. He was


But where he meant to ruin, pitiful.

His promifes were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he now is, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

CROM. Noble Madam,

Men's evil manners live in brafs, their vir


We write in water*. May it please your



Had Shakefpear never written another line but this, 'twere fufficient to make him (what he is/ immortal.

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