And see him safe i' the Tower. Cran.

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. Chan. This is the king's ring. Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit. Suff. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told! ye all, [rolling, When we first put this dangerous stone a "Twould fall upon ourselves. Nor. Do you think, my lords, The king will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vexed? Chan. '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, 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 atye.
Enter the King, frowning on them; takes his seat.
Gar. 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.
K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden com-
mendations,

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 am sure,
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.-
Good man, [To CRANMER.] sit down.

me see the proudest

Now let

Ile, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:
By all that's holy, he had better starve,
Than but once think his place becomes thee not.
Sur. May it please your grace,-
K. Hen.

No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought, I had had men of some understanding

And wisdom of my conneil; 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 com-
mission

Bid ye so far 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,
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 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
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. Cran. 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?
K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare
your spoons; you shall have

Two noble partners with you; the old duchess
of Norfolk,
[you?
And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge
Embrace, and love this man.
[you,
Gar.
With a true heart,

And brother-love, I do it.

Cran.

Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.
And let heaven
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 shrewed 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 reinain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain,

SCENE III.-The Palace Yard.

[Exeunt.

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. [larder.

[Within. Good master porter, I belong to the Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue: Is this a place to roar in?-Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; 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 [cannons), (Unless we sweep them from the door with 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? As much as one sound cudgel of four foot (You see the poor remainder) could distribute, I made no spare, sir.

You did nothing, sir.

Port. 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 cuckoldmaker, 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? Purt. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.-Keep the door close, sirrab. 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? 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 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 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 she was quarter'd. 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, 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, [porters, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these 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.

FOLK, 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. Flourish. Enter King, and Train.

Cran. [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!

K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop; What is her name? Cran. K. Hen.

Elizabeth.

Stand up, lord.--
[The King kisses the Child.
With this kiss take my blessing: God protect
Into whose hands I give thy life. [thee!
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.
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,
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, [her,
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:
She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own shall

[when

[Nor shall this peace sleep with her: But as
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, Sha 1 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
Shall see this, and bless heaven. [children
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 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 He has business at his house; for all shall stay, This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt.

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,
We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis
clear,

They'll say, 'tis naught: 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 we 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 them; 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 them clap.

Prologue.

IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
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: Nowon 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 Antenorides, with massy staples,
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Spur 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.

Art First.

SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's Palace.

Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS. Tro. Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again: Why should I war without the walls of Troy, That find such cruel battle here within? Each Trojan, that is master of his heart, Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.

Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended?

Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore,

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding.

Tro. Have I not tarried? [the bolting.
Pun. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry
Tro. Have I not tarried?
[leavening.
Pun. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the
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!-When is she thence?

Pan. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else.

Tro. I was about to tell thee.-When my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain; Lest Hector, or my father should perceive me, I have, (as when the sun doth light a storm), Bury'd this sigh in a wrinkle of a smile: But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness, Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. 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 Iler eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, Handlest in thy discourse;-0, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink, Writing their own reproach; To whose soft

[me

Pan. I speak no more than truth. Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. Pun. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands.

Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus? Pan. I have had my labour for my travel; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour. [with me?

Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in the matter.

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 wco, 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. Alarum. Enter ÆNEAS.

Ene. How now, Prince Troilus? wherefore not afeld? [swer sorts, Tro. Because not there; This woman's anFor womanish it is to be from thence. What news, Æneas, from the field to-day? Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. Tro. By whom, Eneas?

Ene.

Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum. Ene. Hark! what good sport is out of town to-day! [may.Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were But, to the sport abroad;-Are you bound Ene. In all swift haste. [thither?

Tro. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same. A Street.
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,
To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
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,
And to the field goes he; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw
In Hector's wrath.

Cress.
What was his cause of anger?
Alex. The noise goes, this: There is among
the Greeks

A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector;
They call him, Ajax.

Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs.

Alex. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant, a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries some stain of it: he is melancholy without cause, and merry against the hair: He hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight, Cres. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry?

Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in the battle, and struck him down; the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.

Enter PANDARUS.

Cres. Who comes here?

Cres. "Twould not become him, his own's better.

Pan. You have no judgment, niece: Helen herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour (for so 'tis, I must confess),-Not brown neither. [brown.

Cres. No, but brown.

Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not
Cres. To say the truth, true and not true.
Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris.
Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough.
Pan. So he has.

Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much : if she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief, Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose. [better than Paris. Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him Cres. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed. Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into a compass'd window,~~ and, you know, he has not pass'd three or four hairs on his chin.

Cres. Indeed a tapster's arithmetick may soon bring his particulars therein to a total.

Cres. So he says here.

Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too : he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that; and there is Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that too.

Cres. What, is be angry too? [of the two. Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man Cres. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison. Pun. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him? [him. Cres. Ay, if I ever saw him before, and knew Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus. Cres. Then you say as I say; for I am sure, he is not Hector. [degrees. Pun. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, Cres. So he is. [he were,Pan.Condition, I had gone barefoot to Cres. He is not Hector. [India. Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself-'Would 'a were himself! Well, the gods are above? Time must friend or end: Well, Troilus, well, -I would, my heart were in her body!-No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus. Cres. Excuse me.

Pan. He is elder.

Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. The other's not come to't; you shall tell me another tale when the other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit this year.

Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own. Pun. Nor his qualities;

Cres. No matter.

Fan. Nor his beauty.

Pan. Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother

Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter? Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him;-she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin,-

Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven? Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think, his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia.

Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Fan. Does he not?

Cres. O yes, an 'twere a clond in autumn. Pan. Why, go to then :-But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,

Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so.

Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.

Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the shell.

Pan. I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled his chin;-Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess. Cres. Without the rack.

Fan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin.

Cres. Alas, poor chin, many a wart is richer. Pan. But there was such laughing:-Queen Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. Cres. With mill-stones.

Pan. And Cassandra laughed.

Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes run Pan. And Hector laughed. [o'er too?

Cres. At what was all this laughing? Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin.

Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed too.

Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as at his pretty answer.

Cres. What was his answer?

Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.

Cres. This is her question.