Chan. Thus far My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace [pos'd To let my tongue excuse all. What was purConcerning his imprisonment, was rather (If there be faith in men,) meant for his trial, And fair purgation to the world, than malice; I am sure, in me. K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him; Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it. I will say thus much for him, If a prince May be beholden to a subject, I Am, for his love and service, so to him. Make me no more ado, but all embrace him; Be friends, for shame, my lords.-My lord of Canterbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me; This is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism, You must be godfather, and answer for her. Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory In such an honour; How may I deserve it, That am a poor and humble subject to you? K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons; * you shall have Two noble partners with you; the old duchess of Norfolk, [you? And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge Embrace, and love this man. Gar. With a true heart, And brother-love, I do it. Cran. And let heaven [you, Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. The common voice, I see, is verified [bury SCENE III.-The Palace Yard. his MAN. Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris-garden?t ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.t [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'ii 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 [cannons,) (Unless we sweep them from the door with To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep On May-day morning; which will never be: We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them. Port. How got they in, and be hang'd? Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide As much as one sound cudgel of four foot [in? (You see the poor remainder) could distribute, I made no spare, Sir. It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoons to their god-children. The bear garden on the Bank-side. Roaring. Port. You dic. nothing, Sir. * Mun. 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 cuckoldmaker, 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 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 the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: That fireIdrake 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 porringert fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. 1 miss'd the meteort 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 broomstaff 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 play-house, 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 have some of them in dance these three days; besides the running Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to banquet of two beadles, that is to come. Enter the Lord CHAMBERLAIN. Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here! [coming, They grow still too, from all parts they are 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 Cham. As I live, Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy | And hang their heads with sorrow: Good knaves; And here ye lie baiting of bumbards, when They are come already from the christening: months. Port. Make way there for the princess. Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail; SCENE IV.-The Palace.t Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord MAYOR, GARTER, CRANMER, Duke of NORFOLK, with his Marshal's Stuff, 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. My noble partners, and myself, thus pray:- K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop; Cran. Elizabetń. K. Hen. Stand up, lord. [The KING kisses the child. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect Into whose hands I give thy life, [thee! Cran. Amen. K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, Lutter For heaven now bids me; and the words I be grows with her: Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing our, The oird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders,] land, An aged princess; many days shall see her, [gin, She must, the saints must have her; yet a vir lords; [ye, She will be sick else. This day, no man think Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank He has business at his house; for all shall stay, This little one shali make it holiday. [Exeunt. EPILOGUE. All that are here: Some come to take their "Tis ten to one, this play can never please ease, And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, Abus'd extremely, and to cry,-that's witty! This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession of King James. ་ PROLOGUE. IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd, To ransack Troy: within whose strong im- To Tenedos they come; And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Their warlike fraughtage:+ Now on Dardan plains The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, Ginning in the middle; starting thence away Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are; ACT I. SCENE I-Troy.-Before PRIAM's Palace. Enter TROILUS arm'd, and PANDARUS. Tro. Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again: Why should I war without the walls of Troy, That find such cruel battle here within? Each Trojan, that is master of his heart, Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. Pan. Will this geert ne'er be mended? Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; But I am weaker than a woman's tear, Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding. Tro. Have I not tarried? Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting. Tro. Have I not tarried? Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening. Tro. Still have I tarried. Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in the word--hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips. Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do. + Shut At Priam's royal table do I sit; And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, So, traitor!-when she comes!When is she thence? Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. Tro. I was about to tell thee,-When my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain; Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, I have (as when the sun doth light a storm,) Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: [ness, But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladIs like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's, (well, go to,) there were no more comparison between the women,-But, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her,-But I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughinen! This thou tell'st me, As true thou tell'st me, when I say-I love her; Pan. I speak no more than truth. [me Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands. Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus? Pun. I have had my labour for my travel; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour. Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore, she's not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not, an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me. Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar; Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield? Tro. Because not there; This woman's answer sorts,* For womanish it is to be from thence. Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar te scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum. Ene. Hark! what good sport is out of town to-day! Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were may.[ther? But to the sport abroad;-Are you bound thiEne. In all swift haste. Tro. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt. SCENE (1.-The same.-A Street. Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER. Cres. Who were those went by? Alex. Queen Hecuba, and Helen. Cres. And whither go they? Alex. Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd: He chid Andromache, and struck his ar mourer; And, like as there were husbandry in war, Cres. What was his cause of anger? A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him, Ajax. Cres. Good; And what of him? Alex. They say he is a very man per se,t And stands alone. Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man into whom nature hath so crouded humours, that his valour is crusheds into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries some stain of it: he is melancholy * Suits. + By himself. + Characters. § Mingles without cause, and merry against the hair:* He hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight. Cres. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry? Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in the battle, and struck him down; the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. Enter PANDARUS. Cres. Who comes here? Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. Pan. What were you talking of, when I came? Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? Cres. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up. Pan. E'en so; Hector was stirring early. Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger. Pan. Was he angry? Cres. So he says here. Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there is Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus; [ can tell them that too. Cres. What, is he angry too? Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. Cres. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison. Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him? Cres. Ay; if ever I saw him before, and knew him. Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus. Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector. Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees. Cres. "Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he were, Cres. So he is. a brown favour, (for sc 'tis, I inust confess,)Not brown neither. Cres. No, but brown. Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much: if she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief, Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose. Pan. I swear to you, I think, Helen loves him better than Paris. Cres. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed. Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into a compassed window, and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin. Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total. Pan. Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector. Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter ?t Pun. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him;-she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin, Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven? Pun. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia. Cres. O, he smiles valiantly. Pan. Does he not? Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autuma. Pan. Why, go to then :-But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus, Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so. Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg. Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would cat chickens i'the shell. Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin;-Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess. Cres. Without the rack. Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. Pan. But, there was such laughing;-Queen Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. Cres. With mill-stones. Pan. And Cassandra laughed. Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes run o'er too? Pan. And Hector laughed. Cres. At what was all this laughing? Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin. Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed too. Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as at his pretty answer. Cres. What was his answer? Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty haars on your chin, and one of them is white, Cres. This is her question. |