ePub 版
[blocks in formation]

You must be godfather, and answer for her.
Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may

In such an honour: how may I deserve it, 164
That am a poor and humble subject to you?

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
Marquess Dorset: will these please you?
Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge

Embrace and love this man.

But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure 128 And brother-love I do it.
Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.



With a true heart

And let heaven 172

[TO CRANMER.] Good man, sit down. Now let Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. me see the proudest

He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:
By all that's holy, he had better starve 132
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
Sur. May it please your Grace.—
K. Hen. No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I had had men of some under-

And wisdom of my council; but I find none. 136
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
This good man,-few of you deserve that title,-
This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
At chamber-door? and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this! Did my com-

[blocks in formation]

Thus far, My most dread sov'reign, may it like your Grace


To let my tongue excuse all. What was pur-

Concerning his imprisonment, was rather—
If there be faith in men-meant for his trial
And fair purgation to the world, than malice, 152
I'm 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 beholding 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

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

A shrewd turn, and he is 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; 180
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.

SCENE IV.-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.


[blocks in formation]

To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep
156 On May-day morning; which will never be. 16
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; how gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot- ze
You see the poor remainder-could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.

I have a suit which you must not deny me; 160 That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,

You did nothing, sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor As if we kept a fair here!

To mow 'em down before me; but if I spar'd any
That had a head to hit, either young or old, 25
He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,
Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again;
And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
[Within.] Do you hear, Master porter? 29
Port. I shall be with you presently, good
Master puppy. Keep the door close, sirrah.
Man. What would you have me do? 32
Port. What should you do, but knock 'em
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. 40

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 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 cried out, 'Clubs!' when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o' the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff to me; I defied 'em still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work. The devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely. 64

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 'em 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 parts they are coming,


Where are these

These lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand,
There's a trim rabble let in. Are all these
Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall


Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.
An't please your honour, 80
We are but men; and what so many may do,
Not being torn a-pieces, we have done:
An army cannot rule 'em.
As I live,


If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all
By the heels, and suddenly; and on your
Clap round fines for neglect: ye're lazy knaves;
And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when
Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets


They're 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
Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two



Port. Make way there for the princess.


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 V.-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 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:
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy, 8

May hourly fall upon ye!

Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,

K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop: And so stand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, 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 hand I give thy life.

Amen. 12 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

16 Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em 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



[blocks in formation]

Thou hast made me now a man: never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
24 That when I am in heaven, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my

But few now living can behold that goodness-
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed: Saba 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, 28
Shall still be doubled on her; truth shall nurse

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
Under his own vine what he plants; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.
God shall be truly known; and those about

From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.

Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, 41
Her ashes new-create another heir
As great in admiration as herself,
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
When heaven shall call her from this cloud of

[ocr errors]

Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,



[blocks in formation]

'Tis ten to one, this play can never please
All that are here: some come to take their ease
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
We've frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear
They'll say 'tis naught: others, to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry, 'That's witty!'
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,
All the expected good we're like to hear
For this play at this time, is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we show'd 'em: if they smile,
And say 'twill do, I know, within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap
If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.


[blocks in formation]




Grecian Commanders.

THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Gre


ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida.

Servant to Troilus.

Servant to Paris.

Servant to Diomedes.

HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.

ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.

CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam; a prophetess.

CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.

SCENE.-Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.

[blocks in formation]


The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,


With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.

To Tenedos they come,

And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Their war-like fraughtage: now on Dardan

The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,
Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,
And Antenorides, with massy staples
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Sperr up the sons of Troy.

Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,
Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come



[blocks in formation]

SCENE I.-Troy. Before PRIAM's Palace.
Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS.
Tro. Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again:
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan that is master of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas! has none.
Pan. Will this gear ne'er be mended?
Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to
their strength,

Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness

But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
20 Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractis'd infancy.





Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.

Tro. Have I not tarried?


[blocks in formation]

The knife that made it.

Pan. I speak no more than truth. Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. Pan. Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own

Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry hands. the leavening.

[blocks in formation]

Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's, well, go to,-there were no more comparison between the women: but, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her, but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did: I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but 49 Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love: thou answer'st, she is fair; Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; Handlest in thy discourse, O! that her hand, 57 In whose comparison all whites are ink, Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure


[blocks in formation]

Tro. Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus! 72 Pan. I have had my labour for my travail; ill-thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between, and between, but small thanks for my labour. 76

Tro. What! art thou angry, Pandarus? what! with me?

Pan. Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me.

Tro. Say I she is not fair?


Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father: let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her. For my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter. Tro. Pandarus,— Pan. Not I.

Tro. Sweet Pandarus,


[blocks in formation]


[ocr errors]

Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument;
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus,-O gods! how do you plague me.
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar;
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? 104
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl:
Between our Ilium and where she resides
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark. 109
Alarum. Enter ÆNEAS.

Ene. How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield?

Tro. Because not there: this woman's answer sorts,

For womanish it is to be from thence.


« 上一頁繼續 »