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christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?
Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible (Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons,) To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep On May-day morning; which will never be: We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them.
Port. How got they in, and be hang’d?
Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide in?
You did nothing, sir. Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand", to mow them down before me: but, if I spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her. [Within.] Do you hear, master porter ?
Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy. - Keep the door close, sirrah.
Man. What would you have me do?
Port. What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in ? 4 or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand: here will be father, godfather, and all together.
Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier
sir Guy, nor Colbrand,] Of Guy of Warwick every one has heard. Colbrand was the Danish giant, whom Guy subdued at Winchester. Their combat is very elaborately described by Drayton, in his Polyolbion.
Moorfields to muster in?] The train-bands of the city were exercised in Moorhelds.
by his face ", for, o’my conscience, twenty of the dogdays now reign in's nose; 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.
There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor
and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs ! 9 when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, where she was quartered: They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff with me, I defied them still; when suddenly a file of boys behind them, loose shot', delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them win the work ?: The devil was amongst them, 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",
he should be a brazier by his face,] A brazier signifies a man that manufactures brass, and a reservoir for charcoal occasionally heated to convey warmth. Both these senses are understood.
Johnson. That fire-drake -). A fire-drake is both a serpent, anciently called a brenning-drake, or dipsas, and a name formerly given to a Will o’the Wisp, or ignis fatuus. A fire-drake was likewise an artificial fire-work.
7 till her pink'd porringer fell off her head,] Her pink'd porringer is her pink'd cap, which looked as if it had been moulded on a porringer. g the meteor -] The fire-drake, the brazier.
who cried out clubs !] Clubs ! was the outcry for assistance, upon any quarrel or tumult in the streets.
loose shot,( i. e. loose or random shooters.
their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of them in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles 5, that is to come.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain. Cham. 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? - Ye have made a fine hand, fellows. . 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. Port.
An't please your honour
As I live,
Alliteration has given rise to many cant expressions, consisting of words paired together. Here we have cant names for the inhabitants of those places, who were notorious puritans, coined for the humour of the alliteration. In the mean time it must not be for. gotten, that “ precious limbs” was a common phrase of contempt for the puritans.
in Limbo Patrum,] He means, in confinement. In limbo, continues to be a cant phrase, in the same sense, at this day. The Limbus Patrum is, properly, the place where the old fathers and patriarchs are supposed to be waiting for the resurrection.
5 - running banquet of two beadles,] A publick whipping. A banquet, in ancient language, did not signify either dinner or supper, but the desert after each of them.
here lie baiting of bumbards,] A bumbard is an ale-barrel; to bait bumbards is to tipple, to lie at the spigot.
Ye should do serviceHark, the trumpets sound';
Port. Make way there for the princess.
Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your head ake.
Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll pick you o'er the pales else.?
The Palace. 8
Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord
Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, Duke of NORFOLK, with his marshall'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, bearing the Child richly habited in a mantle, $c. Train borne by a Lady: then follows the Marchioness of 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 !
7—r'll pick you o'er the pales else,] To pick is to pitch.
& The Palace.] At Greenwich, where this procession was made from the church of the Friars.
standing-bowls - ) i.e. bowls elevated on feet or pedestals. · Heaven, from thy endless goodness, &c.] These words are not the invention of the poet, having been pronounced at the christening of Elizabeth.
Flourish. Enter King, and Train,
Thank you, good lord archbishop';
Elizabeth. K. Hen.
Stand up, lord.
[The King kisses the Child. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee ! Into whose hands I give thy life. Cran.
Amen. K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal: I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, When she has so much English.
Let me speak, sir, For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth. This royal infant, (heaven still move about her!) Though in her cradle, yet now promises 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 : Sheba 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: Her foes shake like a field of beaten corny