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Cham. "Tis now too certain.

How much more is his life in value with him?
Would I were fairly out on't.

Crom. My mind gave me,
In feeking tales and informations
Against this man, whofe honesty the devil
And his difciples only envy at,

Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye !



Enter King, frowning on them; takes his feat.

Gard. Dread Sov'reign, how much are we bound tọ In daily thanks, that gave us fuch a prince; [Heav'n 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.

King. You're ever good at fudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear fuch flatteries now; and in my presence
They are too thin and base to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach: you play the Spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.
But whatsoe'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 Cran.

He that dares moft, but wag his finger at thee.
By all that's holy, he had better starve,
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
Sur. May't please your Grace

King. No, sir, it does not please me.

I thought I had had men of fome understanding
And wifdom, 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 yourfelves! I gave ye


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Pow'r, as he was a counsellor, to try him,
Not as a groom. There's fome of ye, 1 fee,
More out of malice than integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye means;
Which ye fhall never have while I do live.

Cham. My moft dread Sovereign, make it like your

To let my tongue excufe all. What was purpos'd
Concerning his imprisonment, 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, respect 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 him:
Be friends for fhame, my Lords. My Lord of Canter-
I have a fuit which you must not deny me. [ury,
There is a fair young maid, that yet wants baptifm:
You must be godfather, and anfwer for her.

Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory
In fuch an honour; how may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you?

King Come, come, my Lord, you'd fpare your
fpoons you fhall have

Two noble partners with you; the old Duchefs
Of Norfolk, and the Lady Marquis 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
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.

King Good man, thofe joyful tears fhew thy true
The common voice, I fee, is verify'd
Of thee, which fays thus: Do my Lord of Canterbury
But one fhrewd turn, and he's your friend for ever.
Come, Lords, we trifle time away: I long

To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, Lords, one remain :
So i grow stronger, you more honour ain Exeunt


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SCENE VII. The palace-yard.

Noife and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man. Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rafcals; do 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 hang'd, ye rogue; is this a place to roar in? fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and ftrong ones; these are but switches. -To 'em. I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rafcals?

Man. Pray, Sir, be patient; 'tis as much impoffible
(Unless we fweep them from the door with cannons)
To fcatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be;
e may as well pufh against Paul's, as ftir 'em.
Port. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in !
As much as one found cudgel of four foot
(You fee the poor remainder) could diftribute,
I made no fpare, Sir,

Port. You did nothing, Sir.

Man. I am not Samfon, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, to mow 'em down before me; but if I fpared 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 crow, God fave her. Within. Do you hear, Mr. Porter?

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

Man. What would you have me do ?

Port. What fhould you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields 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 Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, 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


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days now reign in's nofe; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: that firedrake 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 haberdafher'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 combustion in the state. I mifs'd 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 the hope of the Strand, where fhe was quarter'd. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to th' broom-ftaff with me, I defy'd 'em ftill; when fuddenly a file of boys behind 'em deliver'd fuch a fhower of pibbles, loose shot, 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 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 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' christ'ning?

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,
By th' heels, and fuddenly;
Clap round fines for neglect:

I'll lay you all
and on your heads
y'are lazy knaves:


And here ye lie baiting of bumbards, when
Ye fhould do fervice. Hark, the trumpets found;
Th' are come already from the chriftening;
Go break among the prefs, and find a way out
To let the troop pafs fairly; or I'll find

A Marshalfea fhall hold you 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Changes to the palace. Enter trumpets founding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his Marshal's ftaff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen bear-. ing great ftanding bowls for the chriftening-gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Duchefs of Norfolk,godmother,bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c. train borne by a Lady: then follows the Marchionefs of Dorfet, the other godmother, and ladies. The troop pafs once about the ftage, and Garter speaks. Gart. Heav'n, from thy endless goodness, fend long And ever happy, to the high and mighty [life, Prince's of England, fair Elifabeth!

Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

Gran. And to your Royal Grace, and the good Queen, My noble partners, and myself thus pray; All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, That heav'n e'er laid up to make parents happy, May hourly fall upon ye!

King. Thank you, good Lord Archbishop: What is her name?

Cran Elifabeth.

King. Stand up, Lord.

With this kifs take my bleffing: God protect thee,
Into whofe hand I give thy life.

Gran Amen.

King. My noble goffips, y'have been too prodigal, I thank you heartily: fo thall this lady,


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