My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,
But stop their mouth with stubborn bits and spur 'em
Till they obey the manage. If we suffer,
Out of our easiness and childish pity
To one man's honour, this contagious sickness,
Farewell all physic; and what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole state; as of late days our neighbours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
CRANMER. 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 lordships
That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face
And freely urge against me.
SUFFOLK. Nay, my lord,
That cannot be; you are a councillor,
And by that virtue no man dare accuse you.
GARDINER. 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.
CRANMER. Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you;
You are always my good friend; if your will pass,
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful. I see your end-
'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, 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,
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
GARDINER. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary;
That's the plain truth. Your painted gloss discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.
CROMWELL. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little,
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.
GARDINER. Good Master Secretary,
I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.
CROMWELL. Why, my lord?
GARDINER. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? Ye are not sound.
CROMWELL. Not sound?
GARDINER. Not sound, I say.
CROMWELL. Would you were half so honest!
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.
GARDINER. I shall remember this bold language.
CROMWELL. Do.
Remember your bold life too.
CHANCELLOR. This is too much;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
GARDINER. I have done.
CROMWELL. And I.
CHANCELLOR. Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed,
I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
You be convey'd to th' Tower a prisoner;
There to remain till the King's further pleasure
Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?
ALL. We are.
CRANMER. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to th' Tower, my lords?
GARDINER. What other
Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.
Let some o' th' guard be ready there.
Enter the guard
CRANMER. For me?
Must I go like a traitor thither?
GARDINER. Receive him,
And see him safe i' th' Tower.
CRANMER. Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;
By virtue of that ring I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men and give it
To a most noble judge, the King my master.
CHAMBERLAIN. This is the King's ring.
SURREY. 'Tis no counterfeit.
SUFFOLK. 'Tis the right ring, by heav'n. I told ye all,
When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling,
'Twould fall upon ourselves.
NORFOLK. Do you think, my lords,
The King will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd?
CHAMBERLAIN. 'Tis now too certain;
How much more is his life in value with him!
Would I were fairly out on't!
CROMWELL. My mind gave me,
In seeking tales and informations
Against this man-whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at-
Ye blew the fire that burns ye. Now have at ye!
Enter the KING frowning on them; he takes his seat
GARDINER. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
Not only good and wise but most religious;
One that in all obedience makes the church
The chief aim of his honour and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
KING. You were ever good at sudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence
They are too thin and bare to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;
But whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure
Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.
[To CRANMER] Good man, 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
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
SURREY. May it please your Grace-
KING. No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I had had men of some understanding
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 lousy footboy
At chamber door? and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
Power as he was a councillor 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.
CHANCELLOR. Thus far,
My most dread sovereign, may it like your Grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'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'm sure, in me.
KING. 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 beholding to a subject,
Am 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:
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism;
You must be godfather, and answer for her.
CRANMER. The greatest monarch now alive may glory
In such an honour; how may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you?
KING. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons. You
shall have
Two noble partners with you: the old Duchess of Norfolk
And Lady Marquis Dorset. Will these please you?
Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace and love this man.
GARDINER. With a true heart
And brother-love I do it.
CRANMER. And let heaven
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.
KING. 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's 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 remain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. Exeunt
ACT V. SCENE 4.
The palace yard
Noise and tumult within. Enter PORTER and his MAN
PORTER. 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 th' larder.]
PORTER. Belong to th' gallows, and be hang'd, ye rogue! Is
this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves,
and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em. 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 'em from the door with cannons,
To scatter 'em as 'tis to make 'em sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be.
We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em.
PORTER. How got they in, and be hang'd?
MAN. Alas, I know not: how gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot-
You see the poor remainder-could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.
PORTER. You did nothing, sir.
MAN. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
To mow 'em down before me; but if I spar'd any
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,
Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again;
And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
[ Within: Do you hear, master porter?]
PORTER. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.
Keep the door close, sirrah.
MAN. What would you have me do?
PORTER. What should you do, but knock 'em down by th'
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 fornication
is at door! On my 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 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 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
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 cried out 'Clubs!'
when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw
to her succour, which were the hope o' th' Strand, where
she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place.
At length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I defied 'em
still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot,
deliver'd such a show'r 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.
PORTER. 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 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 the LORD CHAMBERLAIN
CHAMBERLAIN. 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, fellows.
There's a trim rabble let in: are all these
Your faithful friends o' th' suburbs? We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.
PORTER. 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 'em.
CHAMBERLAIN. As I live,
If the King blame me for't, I'll lay ye an
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;
Th' are come already from the christening.
Go break among the press and find a way out
To let the troops pass fairly, or I'll find
A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
PORTER. Make way there for the Princess.
MAN. You great fellow,
Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.
PORTER. You i' th' camlet, get up o' th' rail;
I'll peck you o'er the pales else. Exeunt
ACT V. SCENE 5.
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, bearing the CHILD richly habited in a mantle, etc.,
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
GARTER. 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
CRANMER. [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!
KING. Thank you, good Lord Archbishop.
What is her name?
CRANMER. 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.
CRANMER. Amen.
KING. My noble gossips, y'have been too prodigal;
I thank ye heartily. So shall this lady,
When she has so much English.
CRANMER. 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
Upon this land a 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:
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 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 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.
KING. Thou speakest wonders.
CRANMER. 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 th' 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 you, good brethren, I am much beholding;
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords;
Ye must all see the Queen, and she must thank ye,
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
Has business at his house; for all shall stay.
This little one shall make it holiday. Exeunt
KING_HENRY_VIII|EPILOGUE
THE EPILOGUE.
'Tis ten to one this play can never please
All that are here. Some come to take their ease
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
W'have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,
They'll say 'tis nought; others to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!'
Which we have not done neither; that, I fear,
All the expected good w'are like to hear
For this play at this time is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we show'd 'em. If they smile
And say 'twill do, I know within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap
If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.
THE END
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,
But stop their mouth with stubborn bits and spur 'em
Till they obey the manage. If we suffer,
Out of our easiness and childish pity
To one man's honour, this contagious sickness,
Farewell all physic; and what follows then?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole state; as of late days our neighbours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
CRANMER. 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 lordships
That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face
And freely urge against me.
SUFFOLK. Nay, my lord,
That cannot be; you are a councillor,
And by that virtue no man dare accuse you.
GARDINER. 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.
CRANMER. Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you;
You are always my good friend; if your will pass,
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful. I see your end-
'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, 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,
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
GARDINER. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary;
That's the plain truth. Your painted gloss discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.
CROMWELL. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little,
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.
GARDINER. Good Master Secretary,
I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.
CROMWELL. Why, my lord?
GARDINER. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? Ye are not sound.
CROMWELL. Not sound?
GARDINER. Not sound, I say.
CROMWELL. Would you were half so honest!
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.
GARDINER. I shall remember this bold language.
CROMWELL. Do.
Remember your bold life too.
CHANCELLOR. This is too much;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
GARDINER. I have done.
CROMWELL. And I.
CHANCELLOR. Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed,
I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
You be convey'd to th' Tower a prisoner;
There to remain till the King's further pleasure
Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?
ALL. We are.
CRANMER. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to th' Tower, my lords?
GARDINER. What other
Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.
Let some o' th' guard be ready there.
Enter the guard
CRANMER. For me?
Must I go like a traitor thither?
GARDINER. Receive him,
And see him safe i' th' Tower.
CRANMER. Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;
By virtue of that ring I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men and give it
To a most noble judge, the King my master.
CHAMBERLAIN. This is the King's ring.
SURREY. 'Tis no counterfeit.
SUFFOLK. 'Tis the right ring, by heav'n. I told ye all,
When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling,
'Twould fall upon ourselves.
NORFOLK. Do you think, my lords,
The King will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd?
CHAMBERLAIN. 'Tis now too certain;
How much more is his life in value with him!
Would I were fairly out on't!
CROMWELL. My mind gave me,
In seeking tales and informations
Against this man-whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at-
Ye blew the fire that burns ye. Now have at ye!
Enter the KING frowning on them; he takes his seat
GARDINER. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
Not only good and wise but most religious;
One that in all obedience makes the church
The chief aim of his honour and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
KING. You were ever good at sudden commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence
They are too thin and bare to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;
But whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure
Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.
[To CRANMER] Good man, 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
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
SURREY. May it please your Grace-
KING. No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I had had men of some understanding
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 lousy footboy
At chamber door? and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
Power as he was a councillor 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.
CHANCELLOR. Thus far,
My most dread sovereign, may it like your Grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'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'm sure, in me.
KING. 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 beholding to a subject,
Am 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:
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism;
You must be godfather, and answer for her.
CRANMER. The greatest monarch now alive may glory
In such an honour; how may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you?
KING. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons. You
shall have
Two noble partners with you: the old Duchess of Norfolk
And Lady Marquis Dorset. Will these please you?
Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace and love this man.
GARDINER. With a true heart
And brother-love I do it.
CRANMER. And let heaven
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.
KING. 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's 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 remain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. Exeunt
ACT V. SCENE 4.
The palace yard
Noise and tumult within. Enter PORTER and his MAN
PORTER. 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 th' larder.]
PORTER. Belong to th' gallows, and be hang'd, ye rogue! Is
this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves,
and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em. 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 'em from the door with cannons,
To scatter 'em as 'tis to make 'em sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be.
We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em.
PORTER. How got they in, and be hang'd?
MAN. Alas, I know not: how gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot-
You see the poor remainder-could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.
PORTER. You did nothing, sir.
MAN. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
To mow 'em down before me; but if I spar'd any
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,
Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again;
And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
[ Within: Do you hear, master porter?]
PORTER. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.
Keep the door close, sirrah.
MAN. What would you have me do?
PORTER. What should you do, but knock 'em down by th'
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 fornication
is at door! On my 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 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 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
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 cried out 'Clubs!'
when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw
to her succour, which were the hope o' th' Strand, where
she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place.
At length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I defied 'em
still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot,
deliver'd such a show'r 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.
PORTER. 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 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 the LORD CHAMBERLAIN
CHAMBERLAIN. 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, fellows.
There's a trim rabble let in: are all these
Your faithful friends o' th' suburbs? We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.
PORTER. 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 'em.
CHAMBERLAIN. As I live,
If the King blame me for't, I'll lay ye an
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;
Th' are come already from the christening.
Go break among the press and find a way out
To let the troops pass fairly, or I'll find
A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
PORTER. Make way there for the Princess.
MAN. You great fellow,
Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.
PORTER. You i' th' camlet, get up o' th' rail;
I'll peck you o'er the pales else. Exeunt
ACT V. SCENE 5.
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, bearing the CHILD richly habited in a mantle, etc.,
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
GARTER. 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
CRANMER. [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!
KING. Thank you, good Lord Archbishop.
What is her name?
CRANMER. 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.
CRANMER. Amen.
KING. My noble gossips, y'have been too prodigal;
I thank ye heartily. So shall this lady,
When she has so much English.
CRANMER. 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
Upon this land a 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:
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 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 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.
KING. Thou speakest wonders.
CRANMER. 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 th' 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 you, good brethren, I am much beholding;
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords;
Ye must all see the Queen, and she must thank ye,
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
Has business at his house; for all shall stay.
This little one shall make it holiday. Exeunt
KING_HENRY_VIII|EPILOGUE
THE EPILOGUE.
'Tis ten to one this play can never please
All that are here. Some come to take their ease
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
W'have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,
They'll say 'tis nought; others to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!'
Which we have not done neither; that, I fear,
All the expected good w'are like to hear
For this play at this time is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we show'd 'em. If they smile
And say 'twill do, I know within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap
If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.
THE END