This royal Infant, (heaven ftill move about her}
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand bleffings,
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 fhall fucceed. Sheba was never ·
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue,
Than this bleft foul fhall be. All Princely graces,
That mould up fuch a mighty piece as this,
With all the virtues that attend the good,.
Shall ftill be doubled on her. Truth fhall nurse her:
Holy and heav'nly thoughts ftill counsel her:
"She fhall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own fhall blefs
"Her foes shake, like a field of beaten corn,
"And hang their heads with forrow. Good grows with her.
"In her days, ev'ry man fhall eat in safety,
"Under his own vine, what he plants; and fing
"The merry fongs of peace to all his neighbours.
"God fhall be truly known, and those about her
"From her fhall read the perfect ways of honour,
"And claim by those their Greatness, not by blood..
"Nor fhall this peace fleep with her; but as when.
"The bird of wonder dies, the maiden Phoenix,
"Her afhes new create another heir,.
"As great in admiration as her felf;
"So fhall fhe leave her blessedness to one,
" (When heav'n fhall call her from this cloud of dark
"Who from the facred afhes of her honour
"Shall ftar-like rife, as great in fame as she was,
"And fo ftand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Love, Truth,
Terrour,
"That were the fervants to this chofen infant,
"Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ;
"Where-ever the bright fun of heav'n shall shine,
"His honour and the greatness of his name.
Shall be, and make new nations. He fhall flourish, And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him: children's children Shall fee this, and blefs heav'n.
King. Thou fpeakest wonders.
Cran. She fhall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged Princefs; many days fhall fee her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would, I had known no more! but fhe muft die,
She muft, the Saints must have her yet a Virgin;
A most unfpotted lilly fhe fhall pass
To th' ground, and all the world fhall mourn her.
King. O lord Archbishop,
Thou'ft made me now a man ; never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has fo pleas'd me,
That when I am in heav'n, I shall defire
To see what this child does, and praise my maker.
I thank ye all.- To you, my good Lord Mayor,
And (a) your good brethren, I am much beholden:
I have receiv'd much honour by your prefence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords;
Ye must all fee the Queen, and the must thank ye,
She will be fick elfe. This day no man think,
H'as business at his house, for all shall stay;
This little one fhall make it holy-day.
[(a) Your, Dr. Thirlby, Vulg. you. ]
IS ten to one, this Play can never please
All that are here: fome come to take their cafe,
And fleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
We've frighted with our trumpets: fo'tis clear,
They'll fay, it's naught. Others, to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry, That's witty!
Which we have not done neither; that, I fear,
All the expected Good w'are like to hear
For this Play at this time, is only in
The merciful conftruction of good wom'n ;
(For fuch a one we fhew'd'em) If they smile,
And fay, 'twill do; I know within a while
All the beft men are ours ; for 'tis ill bap,
If they bold, when their ladies bid 'em clap.
The End of the Fifth Volume.
Princeton University Library
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