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Might go one way, and safely; and the end
Was ever, to do well: nor is there living
(I speak it with a single heart, my lords,)
A man, that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience, and his place,
Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it! Men, that make
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,
That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.
Suf.
Nay, my lord,
That cannot be; you are a counsellor,
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.

Gar. My lord, because we have business of more

moment,

We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure,

And our consent, for better trial of you,

From hence you be committed to the Tower;
Where, being but a private man again,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.

Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank

you,

You are always my good friend; if your will pass,
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful: I see your end,
'Tis my undoing: Love, and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition;
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience,
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.
Crom. My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

Gar.

Good master secretary, I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst

Of all this table, say so.

Crom.

Why, my lord?

Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer Of this new sect ? ye are not sound.

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

Crom.

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 Seat. Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven

In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;
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.
K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden commend-
ations,

Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flattery 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, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure,
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.
Good man, [To CRANMER.] sit down. Now let me
see the proudest

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 it please your grace,—

K. Hen.

No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought, I had had men of some under

standing

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 lousy footboy
At chamber door? and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this? Did my commission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye
Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
Not as a groom: There's some of ye, I see,

More out of malice than integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;
Which ye shall never have, while I live.

Chan.

Thus far, 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 Can-

terbury,

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I have a suit which you must not deny me;
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,
You must be godfather, and answer for her.

Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory
In such an honour; How may I deserve it,
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 marquis Dorset; Will these please you? Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace, and love this man.

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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, let me never hope to see a chine again.

[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? Man. 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 pink'd porringer 5 fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. miss'd the meteor 6 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

K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them

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SCENE III.-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 2? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. 3

[Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the larder.

Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue: Is this the 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 cake 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 hang'd?

It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoons to their god-children.

2 The bear garden on the Bank-side.

3 Roaring.

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 Patrum7, 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,

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Ye should do service.
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

Hark, the trumpets sound; | 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:

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 camblet, get up o' the rail; I'll
pick you o'er the pales else.
[Exeunt.

1

SCENE IV. - The Palace. 2 Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, DUKE OF NORFOLK, with his Marhal'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.

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 her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
[Nor 3 shall this peace sleep with her : But as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
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
darkness,)

Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;

Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,

the good queen,

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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.

Thank you, good lord archbishop;

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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,

His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him:

children

Shall see this, and bless heaven.

Our children's

K. Hen.
Thou speakest wonders.]
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
'Would I had known no more! but she must die,
She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin,
A most unspotted lily shall she pass

To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
K. Hen. O lord archbishop,

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,
That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker. —
I thank ye all: - To you, my good lord mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholden;
I have received much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords;
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye,
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
He has business at his house; for all shall stay:
This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt.

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