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her head, for kindling such a combustion in the 52 state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, 'Clubs !' when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o' the Strand, 56 where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff to me; I defied 'em still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, 60 delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work. The devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely.

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 68 able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles, that is to come.

Enter Lord Chamberlain. L. Ch. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! They grow still too, from all parts they are coming, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves? Y' have made a fine hand, fel

lows: There's a trim rabble let in. Are all these Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening.


76 84

54 Clubs; cf. n. 56 Strand: street in London 63 work: outwork 67, 68 Tribulation ... Limehouse; cf. n. 69 Limbo Patrum: i.e. jail 71 running banquet; cf. n.

76 fine hand: pretty business 81, 82 what a-pieces: what our number may do without being torn to pieces


An't please your honour, 80 We are but men; and what so many may do, Not being torn a-pieces, we have done: An army cannot rule 'em. L. Ch.

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 neglect: y'are lazy knaves; And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound; 88 They're come already from the christening. Go, break



press, and find a way out To let the troop pass fairly, or I'll find A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months. 92

Port. Make way there for the princess.

You great fellow, Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.

Port. You i' the camlet, get up o' the rail: I'll pick you o'er the pales else.


Scene Five

[The Palace] Enter trumpets, sounding; 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 christening gifts: then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother,

86 round: heavy 87 baiting of bombards: drinking deep 92 Marshalsea: a prison

95 i' the camlet: in the woolen suit 96 pick: pitch pales: palisade

Scene Five; cf. n. S. d. Garter: the chief herald


bearing the child, richly habited in a mantle, fc., train borne by a Lady: then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the other godmother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks.

Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth! Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

. Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal Grace, and the

good queen,
My noble partners and myself thus pray:
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye!

Thank you, good lord archbishop:
What is her name?

Elizabeth. King

Stand up, lord.

[The King kisses the Child.] With this kiss take my blessing; God protect thee! Into whose hand I give thy life. Cran.


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

Let me speak, sir, For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth. This royal infant,-heaven still move about her! Though in her cradle, yet now promises 6 My noble partners: the other sponsors

13 prodigal: generous

16 20


Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
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: Saba was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her; truth shall nurse her;
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her;
She shall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own shall bless




Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with

In her days every man shall eat in safety
Under his own vine what he plants; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours. 36
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when 40
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phænix,
Her ashes new-create another heir
As great in admiration as herself,
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,-

44 When heaven shall call her from this cloud of dark

ness, Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, 24 Saba: the Queen of Sheba 43 great in admiration: admirable 44 to one: James I, the successor of Elizabeth


And so stand fix’d. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,

48 That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him: Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness 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. Our children's children Shall see this, and bless heaven. King.

Thou speakest wonders. 56 Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England, An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. Would I had known no more! but she must die, 60 She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. King. O lord archbishop!

Thou hast made me now a man: never, before
This happy child, did I get anything.
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That when I am in heaven, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.
I thank ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholding;
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,

shall find me thankful. Lead the

Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye;
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
H’as business at his house; for all shall stay: 76
This little one shall make it holiday.





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