K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true

heart.

The common voice, I see, is verified

Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canterbury
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend forever.
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 more honor gain.

SCENE III. The Palace Yard.

[Exeunt.

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, ?1 leave your gaping.2

[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

On May-day morning; which will never be.
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them.
Port. How got they in, and be hanged?

Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot

(You see the poor remainder) could distribute, made no spare, sir.

1 This celebrated bear-garden, on the Bankside, was so called from Robert de Paris, who had a house and garden there in the time of king Richard II. The Globe Theatre, in which Shakspeare was a performer, stood on the southern side of the river Thames, and was contiguous to this noted place of tumult and disorder.

2 i. e. shouting or roaring; a sense the word has now lost.

Port.

You did nothing, sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand,1 to mow them down before me; but, if I spared any, that had a head to it, 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 ?2 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 brazier3 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-drake1 did I hit three times on 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 pinked porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, and hit that woman, who

6

1 Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant, whom Guy subdued at Winchester.

2 The trained bands of the city were exercised in Moorfields.

3 A brazier signifies a man that manufactures brass, and a reservoir for charcoal, occasionally heated to convey warmth. Both these senses are understood.

4 "Fire-drake; a fire sometimes seen flying in the night like a dragon." -Bullokar's Expositor, 1616. A fire-drake appears to have been also an artificial firework.

5 Her pinked cap.

6 The brazier.

cried out, Clubs!1 when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succor, 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 honor in, and let them win the work. The devil was amongst them, I think, surely.

4

Port. These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, 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,5 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 honor, We are but men; and what so many may do, Not being torn a pieces, we have done.

An army cannot rule them.

1 See note on the First Part of King Henry VI. Act i. Sc. 3. 2 Shooters.

3 i. e. the fortress; it is a term in fortification.

4 By the tribulation of Tower-hill and the limbs of Limehouse it is evident that Shakspeare meant noisy rabble frequenting the theatres, supposed to come from those places.

5 i. e. in confinement. The Limbus Patrum is, properly, the place where the old fathers and patriarchs are supposed to be waiting for the resurrection.

6 A public whipping.

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
Clap round fines, for neglect. You are lazy knaves;
And here ye lie baiting of bumbards,' when
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound;
They are come already from the christening.
Go, break among the press, and find a way out
To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find

A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months.
Port. Make way there for the princess.

Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.

Port. You i'the camlet, get up o'the rail; I'll pick you o'er the pales else.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The Palace.3

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 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.

1 A bumbard was a large black jack of leather used to carry beer to soldiers upon duty, or upon any occasion where a quantity was required. 2 To pick is to pitch, cast, or throw.

3 At Greenwich.

4 Standing-bowls were bowls elevated on feet or pedestals.

Flourish. Enter King and Train.

Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and the good queen,

My noble partners, and myself, thus pray :-
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye!

K. Hen.

What is her name?

Cran.

K. Hen.

Thank

you, good lord archbishop;

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 loved and feared; her own shall bless her; Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,

And hang their heads with sorrow.

her:

Good grows with

In her days, every man shall eat in safety,