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2 Gent. Alas, good lady!—

[Trumpets.

The trumpets sound; stand close, the queen is coming.

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

A lively flourish of trumpets; then enter

1. Two judges.

2. Lord chancellor, with the purse and mace before him. 3. Choristers singing.

4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace.

[Music.

Then Garter,

in his coat-of-arms, and on his head a gilt copper crown.

5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him the earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS.

6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as high steward. With him, the duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of SS.

7. A canopy borne by four of the cinque-ports; under it, the queen in her robe; her hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side of her, the bishops of London and Win

chester.

8. The old duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing the queen's

train.

9. Certain ladies or countesses, with plain circlets of gold, without flowers.

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me.-These I know ;— Who's that, that bears the sceptre ?

1 Gent.

Marquis Dorset ; And that the earl of Surrey with the rod.

2 Gent. A bold, brave gentleman; and that should be The duke of Suffolk.

1 Gent.

'Tis the same; high steward.

2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk?

1 Gent.

2 Gent.

Yes.

Heaven bless thee! [Looking on the Queen.

Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on.

Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;

Our king has all the Indies in his arms,

And more and richer, when he strains that lady;

I cannot blame his conscience.

1 Gent.

They, that bear

The cloth of honor over her, are four barons

Of the cinque-ports.

2 Gent. Those men are happy; and so are all are near her.

I take it, she that carries up the train,

Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is; and all the rest are countesses.

2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars,

indeed;

And, sometimes, falling ones.

1 Gent.

No more of that. [Exit Procession, with a great flourish of trumpets

Enter a third Gentleman.

God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling? 2 Gent. Among the crowd i'the abbey; where a

finger

Could not be wedged in more; I am stifled

With the mere rankness of their joy.

The ceremony

2 Gent.

3 Gent.

1 Gent.

You saw

?

That I did.

How was it?

Good sir, speak it to us.

3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.

2 Gent.

3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream

Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen

To a prepared place in the choir, fell off

A distance from her; while her grace sat down
To rest awhile, some half an hour, or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man; which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes. Hats, cloaks,
(Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams1
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make them reel before them. No man living
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven
So strangely in one piece.

2 Gent.

But what followed?

3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with modest

paces

Came to the altar; where she kneeled, and, saint-like,
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and prayed devoutly.
Then rose again, and bowed her to the people;
When by the archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems,
Laid nobly on her; which performed, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state paced back again
To York-place, where the feast is held.

1 Gent.

Sir, you

Must no more call it York-place; that is past;
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost;
'Tis now the king's, and called-Whitehall.
3 Gent.

But 'tis so lately altered, that the old name
Is fresh about me.

1 i. e. battering rams.

I know it;

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