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(You fee the poor remainder) could diftribute Ì made no spare, 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. Pap 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 thousand, 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 ftand 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 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, loose shot, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work; the devil was amongst 'em, I think surely.
Port. Thefe are the youths that thunder at a playhoufe, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience but the tribulation of Tower-bill 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?
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, stand 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 ha bited in a mantle, &c. Train born by a lady; then follows the marchionefs of Dorlet, the other god-mother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter Speaks:
Gart. Heav'n, from thy endlefs goodness fend 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,
That heav'n e'er laid up to make parents happy,
King. Thank you, good lord Arch-bishop:
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 fhe has fo much English.
Cran. Let me fpeak, Sir,
(For heav'n now bids me) and the words I utter,
Which time fhall bring to ripeness. She fhall be
Shall ftill be doubled on her. Truth fhall nurse her,
In her days ev'ry man shall eat in safety
(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 she was,
And fo ftand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terrour,
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 fhall mourn her.
Thou'ft made me now a man; never, before