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"Farewell, 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 honors 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;
By 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 forever hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new opened: 0, how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favors!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ·
And when he fails, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again."

King Henry VIII., Act iii. Scene 2.

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PHILADELPHIA, PA.; CINCINNATI, O.; CHICAGO, ILL.; ST. LOUIS, MO.

SPRINGFIELD, Mass.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by

JOSEPH S. VAN DYKE,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.

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