With this Kifs, take my Bleffing: God protect thee,
Into whofe hand I give thy Life.
King. My noble Goffips, y'have been too prodigal,
I thank ye heartily: So fhall this Lady,
When the has fo much English.
For Heav'n now bids me; and the words I utter,
Let none think Flattery; for they'll find 'em Truth.
This Royal Infant, Heav'n fill move about her,
Though in her Cradle, yet now promises
Upon this Land, a thousand thousand Bleffings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness: She fhall be,
(But few now living can behold that Goodress,)
A Pattern to all Princes living with her,
And all that shall fucceed: Saba was never
More covetous of Wisdom, and fair Virtue,
Than this poor Soul fhall be. All Princely Graces
That mould up fuch a mighty Piece as this is,
With all the Virtues that attend the Good,
Shall ftill be doubled on her. Truth fhall nurse her,
Holy and Heav'nly Thoughts ftill Counfel her:
She fhall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own fhall bless her;
Her Foes fhake like a Field of beaten Corn,
And hang their Heads with Sorrow:
Good grows with her.
In her days every Man fhall eat in fafety,
Under his own Vine what he plants; and fing
The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
God fhall be truly known, and those about her
From her fhall read the perfect ways of Honour,
And by thofe claim their Greatnefs, not by Blood.
Nor fhall this Peace fleep with her; But as when
The Bird of wonder dies, the Maiden Phoenix,
Her Ashes new create another Heir,
As great lin admiration as her felf;
So fhall fhe leave her Bleffedness to One,
(When Heav'n fhall call her from this cloud of darkness,) Who from the facred Afhes of her Honour
Shall Star-like rife, as great in Fame as she was,
And fo ftand 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 thall thine,
His Honour, and the greatness of his Name,
Shall be, and make new Nations. He fhall flourish,
And like a Mountain Cedar, reach his Branches,
To all the Plains about him: Our Children's Children
Shall fee this, and blefs Heav'n.
King. Thou fpeakeft Wonders.
Cran. She fhall be to the Happiness of England,
An aged Princefs; many days fhall fee her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would I had known no more: But the muft die,
She muft, the Saints must have her; yet a Virgin,
A most unfpotted Lilly shall the país
To th' Ground, and all the World thall mourn her.
King. O Lord Archbishop,
Thou haft made me now a Man; never, before
This happy Child, did I get any thing.
This Oracle of Comfort has fo pleas'd me,
That when I am in Heav'n, I fhall defire
To fee 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 beholden:
I have receiv'd much Honour by your prefence,
And ye (hall find me thankful. Lead the way, Lords,
Ye must all fee the Queen, and the muft thank ye,
She will be fick elfe. This day, no Man think
H'as buficefs at his Houfe, for all thall flay:
This little One fhall make it Holy-day.
IS ten to one this Play can never please
All that are here: Some come to take
And sleep out an Act or two; but those we fear
We've frighted with our Trumpets: fo'tis clear,
They'll fay it's naught. Others, to hear the City
Abus'd extreamly, 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 fuch a one we shew'd 'em: If they fmite,
And fay '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.
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