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

Port. You did nothing, Sir.

Man, I am not Sampson, 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 see 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. Pup py. Keep the door clofe, firrah.

Man. What would you have me do?

Port. What fhould 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 thoufand, 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 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 ftands there like a mortar-piece to blow us up. There was a haberdasher's wife of fmall wit near him, that rail'd upon me 'till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling fuch a combuftion in the ftate. I mift the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cry'd out Clubs, when I might fee fome forty truncheons draw to her fuccour, which were the hope of the ftrand, where fhe 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 fuddenly a file of boys behind 'em deliver'd fuch a fhower of pibbles, 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.


Port. These are the youths that thunder at a playhoufe, 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 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 thefe porters? 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' fuburbs? we fhall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from th' criftning?

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 fuddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaves,
And here ye lye baiting of bombards, when
Ye fhould do fervice. Hark, the trumpets found,
Th' are come already from the christening;
Go break among the prefs, and find a way out
To let the troop pafs fairly; or I'll find

A Marshalfea fhall hold ye play these two months.
Port. Make way there for the Princess.

Man. You great fellow, ftand close up, or I'll make your head ake.

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




Enter trumpets founding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his Marshal's ftaff, Duke of Suffolk, two noblemen bearing great ftanding bowls for the chriftning gifts; then four noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Dutchefs of Norfolk, god-mother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c. Train born by a lady; then follows the marchioness of Dorlet, the other god-mother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter fpeaks.

Gart. Heav'n, from thy endless goodness send long life,

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

Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

Cran. And to your royal Grace, and the good Queen, My noble partners and my felf 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 kifs take my bleffing: God protect thee, Into whofe hand I give thy life..

Cran. Amen.

King. My noble goffips, y'have been too prodigal, I thank ye heartily: fo fhall this lady, When he has fo much English.

Cran. Let Hie fpeak, Sir,

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

Which time fhall bring to ripenefs. She fhall be
(But few now living can behold that goodness)
A pattern to all Princes living with her,
And all that shall 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 shall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own fhall blefs her; Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,

And hang their heads with forrow. Good grows with


In her days ev'ry man fhall eat in fafety

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 thofe their greatnefs: 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 bleffedness to one,

(When heav'n fhall call her from this cloud of darkness) Who from the facred afhes of her honour

Shall ftar-like rife, as great in fame as fhe was,
And fo ftand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terrour,
That were the fervants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
Where-ever the bright fun of heav'n fhall fhine,
His honour and the greatnefs 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 faints must have her; yet a virgin,
A moft unfpotted lilly fhall fhe pafs

To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
King. O lord Arch-bishop,

Thou'st made me now a mân; 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 fhall defire

To fee 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 prefence,
And ye fhall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords,
Ye muft all fee the Queen, and she must thank ye,
She will be fick elfe. This day no man think
H'as business at his houfe, for all fhall ftay,
This little one fhall make it holy-day,



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