Enter King, frowning on them; takes his feat.

Gard. Dread Sov'reign, how much are we bound to heav'n

In daily thanks, that gave us fuch a Prince,
Not only good and wife, but most religious;
One, that in all obedience makes the Church
The chief aim of his honour; and to ftrengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,

His royal felf in judgment comes to hear
The caufe betwixt her and this great offender.

r

King. You're ever good at fudden commendations
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not,
To hear fuch flatt'ries now; and in my prefence
They are too thin and bafe to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.
But whatfoe'er thou tak ft me for, I'm fure,
Thou haft a cruel nature, and a bloody.

Good man, fit down. Now let me fee the proudest
[To Cranmer.
He, that dares moft, but wag his finger at thee.
By all that's holy, he had better ftarve,
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
Sur. May't please your Grace

King. No, Sir, it does not pleafe me.

I thought I had men of fome understanding
And wisdom of my Council; but I find none.
Was it difcretion, Lords, to let this man,
This good man, few of you deferve that title,
This honeft man, wait like a lowfy foot-boy
At chamber-door, and one as great as you are?
Why, what a fhame was this? did my commiffion
Bid ye fo far forget yonrfelves? I gave ye
Pow'r, as he was a counfellor to try him;
I i2

Not

Not as a groom. There's fome of ye, I fee,
More out of malice than intégrity,

Which ye

Would try him to the utmoft, had ye means;
fhall never have, while I do live.
Cham. My moft dread Sovereign, may it like your
Grace

To let my tongue excufe all. What was purpos'd
Concerning his imprifonment, was rather,
If there be faith in men, meant for his trial,
And fair purgation to the world, than malice;
I'm fure, in me.

King. Well, well, my Lords, refpect him:
Take him, and ufe him well; he's worthy of it.
I will fay thus much for him, if a Prince
May be beholden to a fubject, I

Am, for his love and fervice fo to him.

Make me no more ado, but all embrace.

Be friends for fhame, my Lords.-My Lord of Canterbury,

I have a fuit which you muft not deny me,
There is a fair young maid, that yet wants baptifm;
You must be godfather, and anfwer for her.

Cran. The greateft monarch now alive may glory
In fuch an honour; how may I deferve it,
That am a poor and humble fubject to you?
King. Come, come, my Lord,

fpoons. You fhall have

2

you'd fpare your

Two noble partners with you; the old Dutchefs
Of Norfolk, and the old lady Marquels Dorfet.
-Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you,

Embrace and love this man.

Gard. With a true heart

And brother's love I do it."

Cran. And let heaven

Witnefs, how dear I hold this confirmation.

[Embracing.

2-you'd Spare your Specns.] paffage in the next fcene, that It appears by this and another the goffips gave fpoons.

King. Good man, those joyful tears fhew thy true heart:

The common voice, I fee is verify'd

Of thee, which fays thus: Do my Lord of Canterbury
But one forewd turn, and he's your friend for ever.
Come, Lords, we trifle time away: I long
To have this young one made a chriftian.
As I have made ye one, Lords, oņe remain;
So I grow ftronger, you more honour gain.

[Exeunt.

Noife and tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.

YOU'll leave your noife anon, ye rafcals; do

Por you take the Court for Paris-Garden? ye

rude flaves, leave your gaping.

Within. Good Mr. Porter, I belong to th' larder. Port. Belong to the gallows and be hanged, ye rogue. Is this a place to roar in -Fetch me a dozen crab tree ftaves, and ftrong ones; thefe are but fwitches to 'em. I'll fcratch your heads; you must be feeing chriftnings? do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rafcals?

Man. Pray, Sir, be patient; 'tis as much impoffible,
Unless we fwept them from the door with cannons,
To fcatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em fleep

On May-day morning; which will never be.
We may as well pufh againft Paul's as ftir 'em.
Port, How got they in, and be hanged?
Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in?
As much as one found cudgel of four foot,

3. Paris Garden] The Beargarden of that time.

4 Thefe are but witches to em.] To what, or whom we fhould point it thus,

Thefe are but fwitches.-To'em.

i. e. have at you, as we now fay. He fays this as he turns upon the mob. WARBURTON.

The prefent pointing feems to

be right.

Ii3

You

You fee the poor remainder, could distribute,
I made no fpare, Sir.
Port. You did nothing, Sir.

5

Man. I am not Sampfon, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, to mow 'em down before me; but if I fpar'd any that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or fhe, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me never hope to fee a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God fave her.

Within. Do you hear, Mr. Porter?

Port. I fhall be with you prefently, good Mr. Puppy. -Keep the door clofe, firrah.

Man. What would you have me do?

6

Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Morefields to mufter in? or have we fome ftrange Indian with the great tool come to Court, the women fo befiege us? Blefs me! what a fry of fornication is at the door? on my chriftian confcience, this one chriftning will beget a thousand; here will be father, god father, and all together.

Man. The fpoons will be the bigger, Sir. There is a fellow fomewhat near the door, he fhould be a brafier by his face; for, o' my confcience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nofe; all that ftand 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 nofe difcharged against me; he ftands there like a mortar-piece to blow us up. There was a haberdasher's wife of fmall wit near him, that railed upon me 'till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling fuch a combuftion in the state, The trainbands of the city were exercifed in Morefields.

Sir Guy, nor Colebrand.] Of Guy of Warwick every one has heard. Colebrand was the Dani giant whom Guy fubdued at Winchester. Their combat is very elaborately, defcribed by Drayton in his Polyolbion.

5 Morefields to muster in ?]

*be fhould be a brazier by his face.] A brafer fignifies a man that manufactures brafs, and a mafs of metal occafionally heated to convey warmth. Both thefe fenfes are here underfood,

I

1

I mift the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cry'd out, Clubs! when I might fee from far fome forty truncheoneers draw to her fuccour; which were 7 the hope of the ftrand, where fhe was quarter'd. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to th' broomftaff with me, I defy'd 'em ftill; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em deliver'd fuch a fhower of pebbles, loofe fhot, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the Work; the devil was amongst 'em, I think, furely.

8

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 Limehoufe, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have fome of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; befides the † running banquet of two beadles, that is to come.

Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Mercy o' me! what a multitude are here?
They grow ftill too; from all parts they are coming,
As if we kept a fair. Where are these porters;
Thefe lazy knaves ?—Ye've made a fine hand, fellows.
There's a trim rabble let in; are all these,

Your faithful friends o'th' fuburbs? We fhall have
Great store of room, no doubt left for the ladies,
When they pafs back from th' chriftning?

Port. Please your honour,

We are but men; and what fo many may
Not being torn in 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

the meteor] The fire-drake, the brafier.

the hope of the ftrand.] Hanmer reads, the forlorn hope.

the Tribulation of TowerHill, or the limbs of Limehoufe.]

do,

I fufpe&t the Tribulation to have been a puritanical meeting houfe. The limbs of Limehouse I do not underfland.

t running banquet of two beadles,] A publick whipping. I i 4

By