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That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,
Let me ne'er 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?

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Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down by th' 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 conscience, 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 40 the dog-days now reign in 's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: that fire-drake 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 rail'd upon me, till her pinkt porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I mist the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out "Clubs!" when I might see from far some 50 forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o' th' Strond, where she was quarter'd. They fell on; I made good my place: at length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I defied 'em still: when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, deliver'd such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work: the devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely.

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Port. These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, 60 but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the Limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of 'em 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?—Y' have made a fine hand, fellows: There's a trim rabble let in are all these Your faithful friends o' th' suburbs? We shall have Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening.

Port. An't please your honour, We are but men; and what so many may do, Not being torn a-pieces, we have done: An army cannot rule 'em.

Cham.

As I live,

If the king blame me for 't, I'll lay ye all
By th' heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaves;
And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when
Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;
Th'are come already from the christening:

Go, break among the press, and find a way out
To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find
A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
Port. Make way there for the princess!
Man.

You great fellow,

Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache!

Port. You i' th' chamblet,

Get up o' th' rail; I'll peck you o'er the pales else!

[Exeunt.

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80

SCENE IV. The palace.

Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, DUKE OF NORFOLK, with his marshal'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, etc., 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 Guard.

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,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye!

K. Hen.

What is her name?

Cran.

K. Hen.

Thank you, good lord Archbishop:

Elizabeth.

Stand up, lord.

[The KING kisses the Child. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! 10 Into whose hand I give thy life.

Gran.

Amen.

K. Hen. My noble gossips, y' have been too prodigal : I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,

When she has so much English.

Cran.
Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter

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Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal infant-heaven still move about her !
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness: she shall be-
But few now living can behold that goodness-
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed: Saba was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:
She shall be loved and fear'd: her own shall bless her ; 30
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow: good grows with

her:
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 phænix,
Her ashes new create another heir,
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,
And so stand fixt : peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him:

a Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,

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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.
K. Hen.

Thou speakest wonders.
Cran. 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 th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.

K. Hen. 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; 70 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.

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