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brazier by his face, for, o'my conscience, 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 fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharg'd against me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cry'd out, clubs ! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers. draw to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, where she was quarter'd. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff with me, I defy'd them still; when suddenly a file of boys behind them, loose shot, deliver'd 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 play-house, 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 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 We are but men; and what so many may do, Not being torn a pieces, we have done: An army cannot rule them. Cham.
As I live, If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy knaves; And here ye lie baiting of bumbards, when Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound; They are come already from the christening: Go, break among the press, and find a way out To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months.
Port. Make way there for the princess.
Man. 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.
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 Dutchess 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'
Flourish. Enter King, and Train.
the good queen,
K. Hen. 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 hand I give thy life.
Let me speak, sir,
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 honour,
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 phenix, . 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 was, And so stand fix’d: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, 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. K. Hen.
Thou speakest wonders. 1 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, 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, · K. Hen. O lord archbishop, Thou hast made me now a man; never, before This happy child, did I get any thing: This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,