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That had a head to hit, either young or old,
And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
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 '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.
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.
As I live,
If the king blame me for 't, I'll lay ye all
Go, break among the press, and find a way out
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!
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 ;-
What is her name?
Thank you, good lord Archbishop:
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.
K. Hen. My noble gossips, y' have been too prodigal : I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
a Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Thou speakest wonders.
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.