Yes, good Griffith;
I were malicious else.
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading:
Lofty and sour
to them that loved him not;
But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.
And though he were
unsatisfied in getting,
Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely: ever witness for
Those twins Of learning that he raised in you,
Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
to outlive the good that did it;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little:
And, to add greater honours to
Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him!
Patience, be near me still; and
set me lower:
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
named my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.
Sad and solemn music
She is asleep: good wench, let's sit down quiet,
For fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience.
The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages, clad in white robes, wearing on
their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in their hands.
They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over
her head; at which the other four make reverent curtsies; then the two that held the garland deliver the
same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over
her head: which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same
order: at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her
hands to heaven: and so in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues
Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye all gone,
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Madam, we are here.
It is not you I call for:
Saw ye none enter since I slept?
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