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    Act 5. Scene V - Page 2

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    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,
    And so stand fix'd: peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
    That were the servants to this chosen infant,
    Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him:
    Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
    His honour and the greatness of his name
    Shall be, and make new nations: he shall flourish,
    And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
    To all the plains about him: our children's children
    Shall see this, and bless heaven.

    KING HENRY VIII
    Thou speakest wonders.

    CRANMER
    She shall be, to the happiness of England,
    An aged princess; many days shall see her,
    And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
    Would I had known no more! but she must die,
    She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin,
    A most unspotted lily shall she pass
    To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.

    KING HENRY VIII
    O lord archbishop,
    Thou hast made me now a man! never, before
    This happy child, did I get any thing:
    This oracle of comfort has so pleased me,
    That when I am in heaven I shall desire
    To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.
    I thank ye all. To you, my good lord mayor,
    And your good brethren, I am much beholding;
    I have received much honour by your presence,
    And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords:
    Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye,
    She will be sick else. This day, no man think
    Has business at his house; for all shall stay:
    This little one shall make it holiday.

    Exeunt

    EPILOGUE
    'Tis ten to one this play can never please
    All that are here: some come to take their ease,
    And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
    We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,
    They'll say 'tis naught: others, to hear the city
    Abused extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!'
    Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,
    All the expected good we're like to hear
    For this play at this time, is only in
    The merciful construction of good women;
    For such a one we show'd 'em: if they smile,
    And say 'twill do, I know, within a while
    All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
    If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.
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