Would try him to the utmost, bad 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. Wbat 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 Canter-

bury,
I have a suit which you must not deny me;
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,
You inust 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

(folk,
Two noble partners with you; the old duchess of Nor-
And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please you?
Once inore, my lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace, and love this man.
Gar.

With a true heart,
And brother-love, I do it.
Cran.

And let heaven
Witness, how dear I hold this confirination.

K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true The common voice, I see, is verified

heart. Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canterbury 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. [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:

(Within) Good master porter, I belong lo 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, you rude rascals?

Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible (Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons), To scatter them, as 'tis to inake 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 ber.

[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 con: science, 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 bim, 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 quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broom-staff 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-bill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I 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, 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.

I'll pick

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.

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 camlet, get up o'the rail; you o'er the pales else.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Palace. Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, LORD

Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, Duke of Norfolk with his Marshall's Staff, Duke of SUFFOLK, 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 Gurter 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

Elizabeth. K. Hen.

Stand up, lord.

(The King kisses the Child. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! Into whose hands I give thy life. 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,

Thau 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, [her:
And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows with
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