Imatges de pÓgina
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(You see the poor remainder) could distribute Ì made no fpare, Sir.

Port. You did nothing, Sir.

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Coles brand, to mow 'em down before me; but if I spar'd any that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or Thé, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again ; and that I would not for a cow, God save her.

Within. Do you hear, Mr. Porter!

Port. I shall' be with you prefently, good Mr. Pap. py. Keep the door closc, firrah.

Man. What would you have me do?

Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? is this Morefields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us ? blefs me! what a, fry of fornication is at the door? on my christian conscience, this one christning will beget a thousand, here will be father, god-father, and all together.

Man. The spoons will be the bigger, Sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brasier 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 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 up:

There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that rail'd upon me 'till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I mist the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cry'd out Clubs, when I might see fome forty truncheons draw, to her • succour, which were the hope of the strand, where The was quarter'd. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broom-staff with me, i defy'd 'em ftill; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em deliver'd such a fhower of pibbles, loose shot, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work; the devil was amongft'em, I think surely.

Ports

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 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 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 thefe portors ?
These lazy knaves? ye've 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 th' cristning?

Port. Please your honour,
We are but men, and what fo many may do,
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
By th’ heels, and suddenly, and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglea : y'are lazy knaves,
And here ye lye baiting of bombards, when
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound,
Thiare 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 Marshal sea 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

Port. You i'th' camblet, get up o'ch' rail, I'll peck you o'er the pales else.

[Exeunt.

your head ake.

SCENE

SCENE VIII.

Enter trumpet's founding ; 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 chriftning gifts; then four moblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Dutchess of Norfolk, god-mother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c. Train born by a lady; then follows the marchioness of Dorset, the other god-mother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks. Gart. Heav'n, from thy endless goodness send long

life, And ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, fair Elizabeth.

Flourish. Enter King and Guard. Cran. And to your royal Grace, and the good Queen, My noble partners and my self thus pray All comfort, joy, in this moft gracious lady, That heav'n e'er laid up to make parents happy, May hourly fall upon ye!

King. Thank you, good lord Arch-bishop: What is her name?

Cran. Elizabeth. King. Stand up, lord. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee, Into whose hand I give thy life.

Cran. Amen.

King. My noble gossips, y'have been too prodigal,
I thank ye heartily: To Thall this lady,
When she has so much English.

Cran. Let me speak, Sir,
(For heav'n now bids me) and the words I utter,
Let none think Alatt'ry, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal infant, (heav'n ftill move about her)
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,

Which

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. Sheba was never
More coyetous of wisdom and fair virtue,
Than this blest soul shall be. All Princely ġraces
That mould up such a mighty piece as this,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall Atill be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her,
Holy, and heav'nly thoughts still counsel her:
She shall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own fhall bless hers
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with

her.
In her days ev'ry man shall cat 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 claim by those their greatness: not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden Phænix,
Her alhes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as her self;
So fhall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When heav'n 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 fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terrour,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
Where-ever the bright sun of heav'n shall shine,
His honour and the grcatness 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: children's children
Shall see this, and bless heav'n.

King. Thou speakest wonders.

Cran. She shall be to the happiness of England, An aged Princess; many days shall see her,

And

And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would I had known no more ; but the must die,
She must, the saints must have her ; yet a virgin,
A most unspotted lilly shall she pass
To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.

King, o lord Arch-bishop,
Thou’it made me now a man; never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That when I am in heav'n, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my maker.
I thank ye all to you, my good Lord-mayor,
And you good brethren, I am much beholden:
I have receiv'd 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 fick else. This day no man think H'as business at his house, for all shall ftay, This little one shall make it holy-day, (Exeunt.

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