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 base 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. 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 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 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 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 Can-
terbury,

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 here
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.

Gar.

And brother-love, I do it.
Cran.

With a true heart,

And let Heaven

Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.

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 remain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. [Exe.

SCENE III.-The Palace Yard. Noise and tu
mult within. Enter Porter and his Man.

Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris garden ?2 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 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, ye rude rascals?

Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impos

sible

(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 in ?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
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 cuckold-maker, 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? Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.-Keep the door close, sirrah.

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 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 railed upon me till her pink'd porringers 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

K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, true heart.

The common voice, I see, is verified

where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broom

Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canter- staff with me, I defied them still; when suddenly

bury

(1) It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoons to their god-children.

(2) The bear-garden on the Bank-side. (3) Roaring.

a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered
such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw
(4) Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish
giant.
(5) Pink'd cap.
(6) The brazier.

142

mine honour in, and let them win the work: The | With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! devil was amongst them, I think, surely. Into whose hands I give thy life. Cran.

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 I 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.

23

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.
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.

Port.

Cham.

3

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 camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll pick you o'er the pales else.

SCENE IV.-The Palace.

[Exeunt.

Amen.

K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too

prodigal :

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,
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,

ror,

As great in admiration as herself; So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,) Enter trumpets, Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk, with his And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, termarshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen bearing great standing-bowls, for the christen- That were the servants to this chosen infant, ing gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a can- Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; opy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, god- Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, mother, bearing the Child, richly habited in a His honour and the greatness of his name mantle, &c. Train borne by a Lady; then fol- Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish, lows the Marchioness of Dorset, the other god- And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches. mother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about To all the plains about' him:-Our children's the stage, and Garter speaks.

Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and nighty 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?

Stand up, lord.
[The King kisses the child.

(1) Place of confinement.

(2) A dessert of whipping.

(3) Black leather vessels to hold beer.
(4) Pitch,
(5) At Greenwich.

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;

(6) This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession lof king James,

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Calchas, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Cassandra, daughter to Priam; a prophetess.

IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of SCENE I-Troy. Before Priam's palace. En

you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance | Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, to burn your lips.

Tro. Patience herself, what goddess ere 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 looked 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 rive2 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 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

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 ploughmen! 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.

Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Tro. Thou dost not speak so much.
Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be
as she is: if she be fair, 'tis 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 travail; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.

Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me?

Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore, she's not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not, an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me.

Tro. Say I, she is not fair?

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!

(1) Shrink. (2) Split. (3) Suits,

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.
Alarum. Enter Æneas.

Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield?

Tro. Because not there; This woman's answer
sorts,3

For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, Eneas, from the field to-day?
Ene. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.
Tro. By whom, Æneas?

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!

Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were

may.

But, to the sport abroad ;-Are ye bound thither?
Jne. In all swift haste.

Tro.

Come, go we then together. [Exe.
SCENE II.-The same. A street. Enter Cres-
sida 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.
Cres.
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.
Good; And what of him?
Alex. They say he is a very man per se,*
And stands alone.

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 crush'd 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 (5) Characters, Grain.

(4) By himself,
(6) Mingled.