As frozen age we find doth fast approach,
And state affairs lie heavy with ourself,
To thee one half our pow’r we here resign,
That due reward may pace with thy great labour.
To this our proposition, what reply?
Vor. Oh! my most noble, good, and bounteous lord,
These honours are indeed so great, so weighty,
I fear, least, like a garment too confin’d,
They awkwardly should press upon the wearer;
Therefore, my gracious lord, let one more worthy,