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For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
MEN that make
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment,
Dare bite the best.
Love and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition;
Cast none away.
"Tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.
ARCHBISHOP CRANMER'S PROPHECY.
Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her,
And hang their heads with sorrow: God grows with her:
In her days, every man shall eat in safety
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,
Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish,
Shall see this, and bless heaven.
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?
And burgonet* of men.-He's speaking now,
* A helmet.