1 prison

A Marshallsey,1 shall hold ye play these two Monthes.
Por. Make way there, for the Princesse.
Man. You great fellow,

2 woolen jacket

Stand close up, or Ile make your head ake.

Por. You i'th' Chamblet,2 get up o'th'raile,

Ile pecke3 you o're the pales else. Exeunt. 3pitch

Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L. Maior, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of Suffolke, two Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening Guifts: Then foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, under which the Dutchesse of Norfolke, Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, c. Traine borne by a Lady: Then followes | the Marchionesse Dorset, the other Godmother, and La- | dies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Gar- | ter speakes.

Gart. Heaven

From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life,
Long, and ever happie, to the high and Mighty
Princesse of England Elizabeth.

Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

I I

Cran. [Kneeling] And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen,

My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus pray
All comfort, joy in this most gracious Lady,

96. Chamblet: camlet-STEEVENS (1793).
12-15. prose-CAPELL.

Heaven ever laid up to make Parents happy,
May hourely fall upon ye.

Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop:
What is her Name?

Cran. Elizabeth.

20

Kin. Stand up Lord, [The King kisses the child.] With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee, Into whose hand, I give thy Life.

Cran. Amen.

Kin. My Noble Gossips, y' have beene too Prodigall; I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady,

When she ha's so much English.

Cran. Let me speake Sir,

30

For Heaven now bids me; and the words I utter,
Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth.
This Royall 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 ripenesse: She shall be,
(But few now living can behold that goodnesse)
A Patterne to all Princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed: Saba was never
More covetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue

Then this pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces
That mould up such a mighty Piece as this is,
With all the Vertues that attend the good,

40

Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her, Holy and Heavenly thoughts still Counsell her:

She shall be lov'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her;

Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne,

And hang their heads with sorrow:

Good growes with her.

50-1. I 1.-2ROWE.

50

In her dayes, Every Man shall eate in safety,
Under his owne Vine what he plants; and sing
The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
God shall be truely knowne, and those about her,
From her shall read the perfect way of Honour,
And by those claime their greatnesse; not by Blood.
Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when
The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix,
Her Ashes new create another Heyre,

As great in admiration as her selfe.

So shall she leave her Blessednesse to One,

60

(When Heaven shal call her from this clowd of darknes) 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, Terror,
That were the Servants to this chosen Infant,
Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;
Where ever the bright Sunne of Heaven shall shine,
His Honour, and the greatnesse of his Name,
Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourish,
And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches,
To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children
Shall see this, and blesse Heaven.

Kin. Thou speakest wonders.

Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England, An aged Princesse; many dayes shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it. Would I had knowne no more: But she must dye,

70

She must, the Saints must have her; yet a Virgin, 80

A most unspotted Lilly shall she passe

To th'ground, and all the World shall mourne her.
Kin. O Lord Archbishop

56. way: ways-4F.

Thou hast made me now a man, never before
This happy Child, did I get any thing.
This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me,
That when I am in Heaven, I shall desire
To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker.
I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior,
And you good Brethren, I am much beholding:
I have receiv'd much Honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankfull. Lead the way Lords,
Ye must all see the Queene, and she must thanke ye,
She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke
'Has businesse at his house; for all shall stay:
This Little-One shall make it Holy-day.

THE EPILOGUE.

90

Exeunt.

Tis ten to one, this Play can never please
All that are heere: Some come to take their ease,
And sleepe an Act or two; but those we feare
W' have frighted with our Tumpets: so 'tis cleare,
They' I say tis naught. Others to heare the City
Abus' d extreamly, and to cry that's witty,
Which wee have not done neither; that I feare
All the expected good w'are like to heare.
For this Play at this time, is onely in
The mercifull construction of good women,
For such a one we shew'd'em: If they smile,
And
say twill doe; I know within a while,
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
If they bold, when their Ladies bid'em clap.

90. you: your-THEOBALD. 9. period out-POPE.

FINIS.