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Not as a groom: There's some of ye, I see,
Chan. My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace To let my tongue excuse all. What 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 Canterbury,
I have a suit which you must not deny me;
Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory
K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons*; you shall have
Two noble partners with you; the old duchess of Norfolk,
And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please you ? Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace, and love this man.
With a true heart,
And brother-love, I do it.
Cran. And let heaven Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart.
* It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoons to their god-children.
The common voice, I see, is verified
The Palace Yard.
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 to 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 make them sleep
Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide in?
You did nothing, sir.
* The bear-garden on the Bank-side.
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 her.
[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 conscience, 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 fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose dischargedagainst me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, 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 broomstaff 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
* Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant.
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 play-house, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. 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.
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.
As I live,
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound;
A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months.
* Place of confinement.
+ A dessert of whipping.
+ Black leather vessels to hold beer.
Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll pick you o'er the pales else.
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 Garter 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 :-
Thank you, good lord archbishop; What is her name?
Stand up, lord.[The King kisses the child. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! Into whose hands I give thy life.
K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too pro
+ At Greenwich.