D. Keep. My lord archbishop;

I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
Cauter-You are so merciful: I see your end,

'Tis my undoing: Love, and meekarss, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition;
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience,
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,

And bas done half an hour, to know your plea- But reverence to your calling makes me mne

sures.

Chan. Let him come in.

D. Keep. Your grace may enter now.
[CRANMER approaches the Council-table.
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very

sorry

To sit here at this present, and behold
That chair stand empty:
In our own natures frail
Of our flesh, few are
frailty,

But we all are men,
and capable
angels: out of which

And want of wisdom, you, that best should
teach us,

Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whole realm by your teaching, and your
chaplains,

(For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions,
Divers, and dangerous; which are heresies,
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords: for those, that tame wild horses,

Pace them not in their hands to make them

gentle;

By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

Gar. Good master secretary,

I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.

Crom. Why, my lord ?

Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye are not sound.
Crom. Not sound?

Gar. Not sound, I say.

Crom. 'Would you were half so honest !

Men's prayers then would seek you, not their
fears.

Gar. I shall remember this bold language.
Crom. Do.

But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and Remember your bold life too.

ness,

Farewell, all physic: And what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint

Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neigh-
bours,

The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.

Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the
progress

Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
And with no little study, that my teaching,
And the strong course of my authority,
Might go one way, and safely; and the end
Was ever, to do well: nor is there living
(I speak it with a single heart, my lords,)
A man, that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience, and his place,
Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it! Men that make
Envy and crooked malice nourishment,

Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lord-
ships,

That in this case of justice, my accusers,

Chan. This is too much;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gar. I have done.

By virtue of that ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it

Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, To a most noble judge, the king my master. And freely urge against me.

Suf. Nay, my lord,

That cannot be; you are a counsellor,

And by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.

Gur. My lord, because we have business of

more moment,

We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness'

pleasure,

And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower;
Where, being but a private man again,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.
Cran. Ah! my good lord of Winchester, I
thank you,

You are always my good friend; if your will

pass,

"In singleness of heart." Acts ii. 46.

When we first put this dangerous stone a roll-
Twould fall upon ourselves.
ing,

Nor. Do you think, my lords,

The king will suffer but the little finger

Of this man to be vex'd ?

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,

Against this man, (whose honesty the devil
In seeking tales and informations
And his disciples only envy at,)

Ye blew the fie that burns ye: Now have at

ye.

But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure,
Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.-
Good man, [To CRANMER.] sit down. Now let
me see the proudest

He, that dares most, but wag his finger at

thee:

By all that's holy, he had better starve,

Gar. With a true heart,
And brother love, I do it.
Cran. And let heaven

witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.
K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show
thy true heart.

The common voice, I see, is verified

Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canterbury

A shrewd turn, and he is 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 reurain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.
[Eceunt.

SCENE III.-The Palace Yard.
Noise and tumult within. Enter PORTER
and his MAN.

Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris-garden? • ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. +

[Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the larder.

Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue: Is this a place to roar in ?-Fetch

Than but once think his place becomes thee me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones;

not.

Sur. May it please your grace,

K. Hen. No, Sir, it does not please me.

I thought I had had men of some understand-
ing

And wisdom of my council; but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
This good man, (few of you deserve that title,)
This honest man, wait like a lowsy footboy
At chamber door? and one as great as you

are ?

Why, what a shame was this? Did my com

mission

Bid ye so forget yourselves? I gave ye
Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
Not as a groom; There's some of ye, I see,
More out of malice than integrity,

Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;
Which ye shall never have while I live.

Chan. Thus far,

these are but switches to them.-I'll scratch your heads: You must be seeing 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 iu
As much as one sound cudgel of four fost
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, Sir.

Port. 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 pur-cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a cow, God save her.

My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was

pos'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 am sure, in me.

K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him; Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it.

I will say thus much for him, If a prince
May be beholden to a subject, I
At, for his love and service, so to him.
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him;
Be friends, for shame, my lords.-My lord of
Canterbury,

I have a suit which you must not deny me;
This is, a fair young maid that yet wants bap-

[Within.] Do you hear, master Porter? Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.-Keep the door close, Sirrab. Man. What would you have ne do?

Port. What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of formiOn my Christian conscience, cation is at door! this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all toge

ther.

Man. The spoons will be the bigger, Sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for o'my couscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him, are under the line, they need no other penance: That fireagainst drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged There was a baberdasher's wife of me; he stands there like a mortar-piece, to small wit near him, that rail'd upon me till her pink porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a coinbustion in the state. I

It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present giant. spoo to their god-children.

Flourish.uEnter Kiso, and Trainsk Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and the good queen,

miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, where My noble partners and myself thus pray :she was quartered. They fell on; I made good All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, my place; at length they came to the broom-Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,... staff with me, I defied them still; when sud-May hourly fall upon ye! denly a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine bonour in, and let them win the work: The devil is amongst them, I think, surely.

Port. These are the youths that thunder at a play-honse, 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 some of them 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 the Lord CHAMBERLAIN. Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are bere !

SCENE IV.-The Palace. T 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, bearing the child richly habited in a manile, &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! *

K. He. Thank you, good lord archbishop. What is her name?

Cran. 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 tos
prodigal :

I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.
Cran. Let me speak, Sir,

For heaven how 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 corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow : Good
grows with her :

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:
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of hon.
our,

And by those claim their greatness, not by
blood.

[Nor shall this peace sleep with her: But as
when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of
darkness,)
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she
And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth,
terror,

was,

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
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his bran-
flourish,

ches

To all the plains about him:--Our children's

children

[land,

Shall see this, and bless heaven.
K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders.]
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of Eng.

These lines to the interruption by the king seem to have been inserted at a subsequent period.

To the ground, and all the world shall mourn All that are here: Some come to take their

THE title of this play was probably suggested (like Twelfth Night, and The Winter's Tale,) by the time at which it was first performed; viz. at Midsummer :---thus it would be announced as "A Dream for the Entertainment of a Midsummer Night." No other ground can be assigned for the name which our author has given to it; since the action is distinctly pointed out as occurring on the night preceding May-day% The piece was written in 1592; and, according to Stevens, might have been suggested by the Knight's Tale in Chaucer, or, as Capell supposes, Shakspeare may have taken the idea of his fairies from Dray ton's fantastical poem, called Nymphidia, or, The Court of Fairy. Mason, however, denies that our poet made use of the materials which Shakspeare had rendered so popular; and asserts (in opposition to Johnson) that there is no analogy or resemblance between the fairies of the one, and the fairies of the other. The same critics are also at issue upon the general merits of this singular play. Johnson declares that "ail the parts, in their various modes, are well written." Malone, that the principal personages are insignificant---the fable meagre and uninteresting. Hippolyta, the Amazon, is undistinguished from any other female; and the solicitudes of Hermia and Demetrius, of Lysander and Helena, are childish and frivolous. Theseus, the companion of Hercules, is not engaged in any adventure worthy his rank and reputation: "he goes out a Maying; meets the lovers in perplexity, and makes no effort to promote their happiness; but when supernatural events have reconciled them, he joins their company, and concludes the entertainment by uttering some miserable puns, at an interlude represented by clowns.” These faults are, however, almost wholly redeemed, by the glowing fervour, and varied imagination, which Shakspeare has displayed in the poetry; by the rich characteristic humour (free from the taint of grossness) which enlivens the blunt-witted devices of his theatrical tailors and cobblers; and by the admirable satire which he has passed on those self-conceited actors, who (not unlike some modern "stars") would monopolize the favours of the public, trample upon every competitor, and "bear the palm alone." Bottom was perhaps the leading tragedian of some rival house, and on that account is honoured with an