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of this new feet? ye are not found.

Crom. Not found ?
Gard. Not sound, I say,

Grom. Would you were half so honest!
Mens' prayers then would seek you, not their fears,

Gard. I shall remember this bold language.

Crom. Do, Remember


bold life too. Cham. This is too much; Forbear for shame, my Lords.

Gard. I've done.
Crom. And I.

Cham. Then thus for you, my Lord; it stands agreed,
I take it, by all voices, that forth with
You be convey'd to th' Tower a prisoner ;
There to remain, till the King's further pleasure
Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, Lords?

All. We are.
Cran. Is there no other way


mercy, But I must needs to th’ Tower, my Lords?

Gard. What other
Would you expect ? you're strangely troublesome ;
Let forne o' th' guard be ready there.

Enter Guard.
Cran. For me?
Must I go like a traitor then?

Gard. Receive him,
And see him lafe i' th' Tower.

Gran. Stay, good my Lords,
I have a little yet to fay. Look there, Lords ;
By virtue of that ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the King my master.

Cham, This is the King's ring.
Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit.

Suf. 'Tis his right ring, hy Heav'n. I told ye all, When we first put this dang'rous stone, a rowling, 'T would fall upon ourselves.

Nor. D' you think, my Lords,
The King will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd ?



Cham. 'Tis now too certain.
How much more is his life in value with him?,
Would I were fairly out on't.

Crom. My mind gave me,
In seeking tales and informations
Against this man, whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at,
Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye !

Enter King, frowning on them; takes his feat.
Gard. Dread Sov'reign, how much are we bound te
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; [Heav'n
Not only good and wise, but most religious
One that in all obedience makes the church
The chief aim of his honour ; and to Strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.

King. You're ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchelter. But know, I come not To hear such flatt'ries now; and in my presence They are too thin and base to hide offences. To me you cannot reach : you play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me. But whatfo'er thou takist me for; I'm sure Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. Good man, fit down. Now let me see the proudest

[To Cran, He that dares most, but wag his finger at thee, By all that's holy, he had better starve, Than but once think this place becomes thee not.

Sur. May't please your Grace

King No, Sir, it does not please me.
I thought I had men of some understanding
And wisdom of my council ; but I find none.
Was it discretion, Lords, to let this man,
This good man, (few of you deserve that title),
This honest man, wait like a lowly foot.boy
Ac chamber-door, and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this ? did my commission
Bid ye so far forget yourtelves ? I gave ye



Pow'r, as he was a counsellor, to try him,
Not as a groom.

There's some of ye, I sea,
More out of mulice than integrity,
Would try him to the utmot, had ye means ;


hill never have while I do live. Chain. My must dread Sovereign, may it like your

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'm sure in me.

King. Weil, well, my Loris, respect him :
Take hiin and use hi'n well; he's worthy of it.
I will say this much for hiin, if a prince
May be beholjen 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 thame, my Lords. My Lord of Canter-
I have a fuit which you muit not deny me. [bury,
There is a fair young maid, that yet wants baptilin;
You must be godfather, and answer for her.

Gran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory In such an honour; how may I deserve it, That an a poor and humble subject to you? King. Come, come, my Lord, you'd spare your

spoons: you shall have Two noble partners with you : the old Duchess of Norfolk, and the Lady Marquis DorsetOnce more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you Embrace and love this min.

Gard. With a true heart
And brother's love I do it.

Gran. And let Heaven
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.

King. Good man, those joyful tears shews thy true The coinmon voice, I see, is verify'd

[heart: of thee, which says thus : Do iny Lord of Canterbury But one shrewd turn, and he's 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 inore honour gaia. [Exeunt.


G 8

SCENE VII. The palace yard. Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Mano

Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals ; do you take the court for Paris Garden? ye rude faves, leave your gaping.

Within, Good Mr Porter, I belong to th'farder.

Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hang'd, ye rogue ; is this a place to roar in? fetch me a dozen crab-tree faves, and strong ones; these are but switches—TO 'em. 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 impoflible
(Unless we swept them from the door with cannons)
To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'ein sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be.
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir ’em,

Port How got they in, and be hang'd?
Man. Alas, I know not;


the tide in.?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, Sir.

Port. You did nothing, Sir.

Man, I am not Samfon, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, to mow 'em down before me ; but if i spar'd any that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, cuckol} or cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again; and that I would not for a crow, God save her.

Within. Do you hear, Mr Porter?

Port. I shall be with you prefently, good Mr Puppy. Keep the door close, lirrah. Alan. What would you

have me do? Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Morefields to muster in? or have we fome Itrange Indian with the great tool come court, the women fo besiege us ? Bless me! what a fry of fornication is at the door? on my Christian conScience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here: will be father, godfather, aad all together.

Nlan. The ipoons will be the bigger, Sir. There is a fellow funewliat near the door, he should be a brasier 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 no!e discharges against ine ; he stands there like a mortar-piece to blow us up. There was

a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the Itate, I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that wọinan, who cry'd out, Clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her luccour ; which were the hope of the Strand, where The was quarter'd. They fell on ; I made jood' my place; at length they came to th' broom-staff with me, i defy'd ein till; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em deliver'd such a shower of pibbles, looie ihot, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work: The devil was amongst 'emn, I think, furely.

Port. These are the youths that thunder at a playhoute, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience but the tribulation of Tower bill, or the limbs of Lime-house, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are. like to dance these three days; besides the running ban. quet of two beadles that is to come.

Enter 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. Where are these porters ?
These lazy knaves ? ye've made a fine hand, fellows:
There's a crim rabble let in; are all these
Your faithful friends o'ch' suburbs? we shall have:
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back froin th' chrittening?

Port. Please your Honour,
We are but men; and what so many may do,
Not being torn in pieces, we have done :
An arıny cannot rule 'em.

Cham. As I live,
If the King blame me for't, I'll lay you all
By th' heels, and suddenly ; and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglect : y'are lazy kaaves :



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