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SCENE, the Palace.

partners and

Enter Trumpets founding; 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 babited in a mantle, &c. Train born by a lady: then follows the Marchioness of Dorset, the other god-mother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks.

Gárt. Heav'n, from thy endless goodness send long life, And ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, fair Elizabeth!

Flourish. Enter King and Guard.
Cran. And to your royal Grace, and the good Queen,
My noble

my
self thus

pray ;
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
That heav'n e'er laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye

!
King. Thank you, good lord Arch-bishop:
What is her name?

Cran. Elizabeth.

King. Stand up, lord.
With this kiss take my Blessing: God protect thee,
Into whose hand I give thy life.

Cran. Amen.

King. My noble gossips, y’have been too prodigal,
I thank you heartily: so shall this lady,
When she has so much English,

Cran. Let me speak, Sir ;
(For Heav'n 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 thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be

(But

99 (But few now living can behold that goodness) A pattern to all Princes living with her, And all that shall succeed. Sbeba was never More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue, Than this blest soul shall be. All Princely graces, That mould

up
such

a mighty piece as this,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her:
Holy and heav'nly 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, ev'ry 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 claim by those their Greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace fleep with her; but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden Phenix,
Her ashes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as her self; .
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When heav'n 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, Terrour,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ;
Where-ever the bright sun of heav'n fhall 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: children's children
Shall see this, and bless heav'n.

King. Thou speakest wonders.
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England, (31)

An

G2

(31) She shall be to the Happiness of England, An aged Princess ;] The Transition here from the Complimentary Ad

dress

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 the muft die, (32)
She must, the Saints must have her yet a Virgin ;
A most unspotted lilly she shall pass
To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.

King. O lord Arch-bishop, Thou'st 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 heav'n, I shall desire To see what this child does, and praise my maker. I thank ye all. - To you, my good Lord Mayor, dress to King James the First is fo abrupt, that it seems obvious to me, that Compliment was inferted after the Accession of that Prince. If this Play was wrote, as in my opinion it was, in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth; we may easily determine where Cranmer's Eulogium of that Princess concluded. I make no question but the Poet rested here ;

And claim by those their Greatness, not by Blood. All that the Bishop says after this, was an occasional Homage paid to her Successor ; and evidently inserted after her Demise. How naturally, without this Insertion, does the King's Joy, and satisfactory Reflection upon the Bishop's Prophecy come in! King. Thou speakest Wonders. O Lord Archbilbop,

Thou'st made me now a Man. Never, before

This happy Child, did I get any Thing, &c. Whether the King would so properly have made this Inference, upon hearing that a Child of fo great Hopes should dye without Iffue, is submitted to Judgment.

(32) Would I had known no more : but she must dye, She must, the Saints must have her ; yet a Virgin, A moft unspotted Lilly, &c.] Thus the Editors hitherto, in their Sagacity, have pointed this Passage, and destroy'd the true Sense of it. The first part of this Sentence is a Wish: The other should be a forrowful Continuation of the Bishop's Prophecy. But, sure, Cranmer was too wise and pious a Man, too well acquainted with the State of Mortality, to make it a part of his Lamentation that this good Princess muft one time or other go to Heaven. As I point it; the Poet makes a fine Compliment to his Royal Mistress's Memory, to lament that she must dye without leaving an Heir of her Body behind her. Palamon and Arcite, in the Two Noble Kinsmen of Beaumont and Fletcher, being made Prisoners to Theseus, and fearing they shall dye in that Captivity, lament their Fate, I remember, in much the same manner.

Here the Graces of our Youths must wither,'
Like a too timely Spring ; here Age must find us,
And, whick is heavies, Palamon, unmarried.

And

And your good brethren, I am much beholden: (33)
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,
And ye

fhall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords ; Ye must all fee the Queen, and she must thank

ye,
She will be fick else. This day no man think,
H'as business at his house, for all shall stay;
This little one shall make it holy-day.

[Exeunt.

(33) And you good Brethren,] But, the Aldermen never were calld Brethren to the King. The Top of the Nobility are but Cousins and Counsellors. Dr. Thirlby, therefore, rightly advised ;

And your good Brethren i. e. the Lord Mayor's Brethren ; which is properly their Style. So in the Chorus before the 5th Act of Henry V.

The Mayor, and all his Brethren in beft Sort,
Like to the Senators of antique Rome,
With the Plebeians fwarming at their Heels,
Go forth, and fetch their conquring Cæsar in.

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E P I L O G U E.

'T

I S ten to one, this Play can never please

All that are here : fome come to take their ease, And sleep an a&t or two; but those, we fear, We've frighted with our trumpets: so, 'tis clear, They'll say, it's 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 ware like to bear For this Play at this time, is only in The merciful construction of good wom'n; (For such a one we few'd’em) If they smile, And say, 'twill do ; I know, within a while All the best men are ours; for 'lis ill hap, If they hold, when their ladies bid 'em clap.

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