Henry VIII - Shakespeare in Love with the divine SEA

The high sea - photo by Fernando Costa

HQUEEN KATHARINE

    Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles;
    Sing, and disperse 'em, if thou canst: leave working.

    SONG

    Orpheus with his lute made trees,
    And the mountain tops that freeze,
    Bow themselves when he did sing:
    To his music plants and flowers
    Ever sprung; as sun and showers
    There had made a lasting spring.
    Every thing that heard him play,
    Even the billows of the
sea,
    Hung their heads, and then lay by.
    In sweet music is such art,
    Killing care and grief of heart
    Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

William Shakespeare