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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
Port. Please your honour,
We are but men, and what fo many may do,
Cham. As I live,
If the King blame me for 't, I'll lay ye all
A Marshalfea fhall hold ye play these two months.
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
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?
King. Stand up, lord.
With this kifs take my bleffing: God protect thee, Into whofe hand I give thy life..
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,
Which time fhall bring to ripenefs. She fhall be
Sheba was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue,
Than this bleft foul fhall be. All Princely graces
Shall ftill be doubled on her. Truth fhall nurse 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
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,
Shall be, and make new nations. He fhall flourish,
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.
To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
Thou'st made me now a mân; never, before
That when I am in heav'n, I fhall defire
To fee what this child does, and praise my maker.