Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound; | Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
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 camblet, get up o' the rail; I'll
pick you o'er the pales else.
[Exeunt.
Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, DUKE OF NORFOLK, with his Marhal's Staff, DUKE OF SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great standing Bowls for the Christening Gifts; then four Noblemen, bear- | ing 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.
Flourish. Enter KING, and Train.
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 3 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;
Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
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;
K. Hen.
What is her name?
K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye 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 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,
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.]
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,
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 beholden;
I have received 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
He has business at his house; for all shall stay:
This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt.
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NESTOR, DIOMEDES, PATROCLUS,
THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.
ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida.
Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant to
CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with the Greeks. HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.
PANDARUS, Uncle to Cressida.
AGAMEMNON, the Grecian General.
MENELAUS, his Brother.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.
CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess. CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.
In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of Greece | And Antenorides, with massy staples,
The princes orgulous', their high blood chaf'd,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships,
Fraught with the ministers and instruments
Of cruel war: Sixty, and nine, that wore
Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia: and their vow is made,
To ransack Troy; within whose strong immures
The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
To Tenedos they come;
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Their warlike fraughtage?: Now on Dardan plains
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,
Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Speer up the sons of Troy.
Now, expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
On one and other side, Trojan and Greek
Sets all on hazard: -
:- And hither am I come
A prologue arm'd, - but not in confidence
Of author's pen, or actor's voice; but suited
In like conditions as our argument,
To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
'Ginning in the middle; starting thence away
To what may be digested in a play.
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are;
Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder 7 than ignorance;
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy.
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding
Tro. Have I not tarried?
a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her:
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the For my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in the bolting.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Tro. Still have I tarried.
Pan. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake. the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.
Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do. At Priam's royal table do I sit;
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, So, traitor! - when she comes !
Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's, (well, go to,) there were no more comparison between the women, But, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her, But I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but —
Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Cressid's love: Thou answer'st, She is fair;
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me,
As true thou tell'st me, when I say, I love her ;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.
Tro. Pandarus,
Pan. Not I.
Tro. Sweet Pandarus,
Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave all as I found it, and there an end.
[Exit PANDARUS. An Alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds!
Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument;
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But, Pandarus - O gods, how do you plague me!
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar;
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo,
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl :
Between our Ilium, and where she resides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself, the merchant; and this sailing Pandar,
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
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Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER. Cres. Who were those went by? Alex. Queen Hecuba, and Helen. Cres. And whither go they? Alex. Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, Hector, whose patience To see the battle. Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd: He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer; And, like as there were husbandry in war, Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light, 'Suits.
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