SCENE 111. The Palace Yard. Noise and Tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man. Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. [Within] Good master porter, I belong to the larder. Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue: Is this a place to roar in?-Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones? these are but switches to them.-I'll scratch your heads: You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide in? Port. You did nothing, sir. Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand, to mow them down before me: but, if I spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her. [Within] Do you hear, master porter? Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy. Keep the door close, sirrah. Man. What would you have me do? Port. What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian con science, this one christening will beget a thousand ; here will be father, godfather, and all together. Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o'my conscience, twenty of the dogdays now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: That firedrake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me: he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broom-staff with me, I defied them still; when suddenly a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them win the work: The devil was amongst them, I think, surely. Port. These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I I have some of them in limbo patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles, that is to come. Enter the Lord Chamberlain. Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here! They grow still too, from all parts they are coming, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves?-Ye have made a fine hand, fellows. There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these Your faithful friends o'the suburbs? We shall have Port. An't please your honour, We are but men; and what so many may do, An army cannot rule them. Cham. As I live, If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound; A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months. Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your head ache. Port. You i'the camlet, get up o'the rail; you o'er the pales else. you o'er SCENE IV. The Palace. I'll pick [Exeunt. Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, LORD MAYOR, Garter, CRANMER, DUKE of NORFOLK with his Marshall's Staff, DUKE of SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great Standing-bowls, for the christening Gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a Canopy, under which the DUCHESS of NORFOLK, Godmother, bearing the Child, richly habited in a Mantle, &c. Train borne by a Lady; then follows the MARCHIONESS of DORSET, the other Godmother and Ladies. The Troop pass once about the Stage, and Garter speaks. Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. Flourish. Enter KING and Train. Cran. [Kneeling] And to your royal grace, and the good queen, My noble partners, and myself, thus pray :— All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, K. Hen. What is her name? Cran. K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop : Elizabeth. Stand up, lord.- With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! Cran. Amen. K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal : I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, When she has so much English. Cran. Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own shall bless her; Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, [her: And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows with In her days, every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours: God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. [Nor shall this peace sleep with her: But as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix. As great in admiration as 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, Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish, K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders.] To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. Thou hast made me now a man; never, before This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me, That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.— [Exeunt. |