Port. You did nothing, sir. Man. I am not Sampson, 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. 5 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 3 sir Guy, nor Colbrand,] Of Guy of Warwick every one has heard. Colbrand was the Danish giant, whom Guy subdued at Winchester. Their combat is very elaborately described by Drayton, in his Polyolbion. Moorfields to muster in?] The train-bands of the city were exercised in Moorfields. 5 he should be a brazier by his face,] A brazier signifies a man that manufactures brass, and a reservoir for charcoal occasionally heated to convey warmth. Both these senses are understood. JOHNSON. 6 That fire-drake-] A fire-drake is both a serpent, anciently called a brenning-drake, or dipsas, and a name formerly given to a Will o'the Wisp, or ignis fatuus. A fire-drake was likewise an artificial firework. 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 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!9 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 honour in, and let them win the work :2 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,* 7— till her pink'd porringer fell off her head,] Her_pink'd porringer is her pink'd cap, which looked as if it had been moulded on a porringer. 9 8 the meteor-] The fire-drake, the brazier. who cried out, clubs!] Clubs! was the outcry for assist ance, upon any quarrel or tumult in the streets. 2 3 loose shot,] i. e. loose or random shooters. the work:] A term of fortification. STEEVENS. the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse,] Alliteration has given rise to many cant expressions, consisting of words paired together. Here we have cant names for the inhabitants of those places, who were notorious puritans, coined for the humour of the alliteration. In the mean time it must not be forgotten, that " precious limbs" was a common phrase of contempt for the puritans. in Limbo Patrum,] He means, in confinement. In limbo continues to be a cant phrase, in the same sense, at this day. The Limbus Patrum is, properly, the place where the old Fathers and Patriarchs are supposed to be waiting for the resurrection. 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 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 Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound; A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months. Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your head ake. 5 running banquet of two beadles,] A publick whipping. A banquet, in ancient language, did not signify either dinner or supper, but the desert after each of them. here ye lie baiting of bumbards,] A bumbard is an alebarrel; to bait bumbards is to tipple, to lie at the spigot. Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll pick 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 Marshal's Staff, Duke of SufFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great standingbowls 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,1 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; 7 I'll pick you o'er the pales else.] To pick is to pitch. 8 The Palace.] At Greenwich, where this procession was made from the church of the Friars. 9 — standing-bowls-] i. e. bowls elevated on feet or pedestals. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, &c.] These words are not the invention of the poet, having been pronounced at the christening of Elizabeth. All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop; What is her name? Cran. K. Hen. Elizabeth. 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, Than 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, And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows with her: In her days, every man shall eat in safety |