mine honour in, and let them 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 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! There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these Cham. As I live, If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all 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 standing-bowels, 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. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, Let me speak, sir, Cran. 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!) Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Though in her cradle, yet now promises 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, In her days, every man shall eat in safety As great in admiration as herself; ror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, children Shall see this, and bless Heaven. K. Hen. Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and 'Would I had known no more! but she must die, the good queen, pray: My noble partners, and myself, thus K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop; What is her name? Cran. K. Hen. Elizabeth. She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her, Thou hast made me now a man; never, before (1) Place of confinement. (2) A dessert of whipping. (3) Black leather vessels to hold beer. (4) Pitch. (5) At Greenwich. (6) This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession of king James. 'TIS ten to one, this play can never please [For such a one we show'd them: If they smile, The play of Henry the Eighth is one of those which still keeps possession of the stage by the splendor of its pageantry. The coronation, about forty years ago, drew the people together in multitudes for a great part of the winter. Yet pomp is not the only merit of this play. The meek sorrows, and virtuous distress of Katharine, have furnished some scenes, which may be justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Katharine. Every other part may be easily conceived and easily written. JOHNSON. ་ Antenor, Trojan commanders. Greeks. Thersites, a deformed and scurrillous virgin. Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant to Helen, wife to Menelaus. Andromache, wife to Hector. Calchas, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Cassandra, daughter to Priam; a prophetess, Cressida, daughter to Calchas. Pandarus, uncle to Cressida. Margarelon, a bastard son of Priam. Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. Scene, Troy, and the Grecian camp before it. Nestor, Ulysses, · Grecian commanders. Diomedes, Patroclus, PROLOGUE. ACT I IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of SCENE I-Troy. Before Priam's palace. En Greece The princes orgulous,' their high blood chaf'd, With wanton Paris sleeps; And that's the quarrel. And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, (1) Proud, disdainful. (2) Freight. (3) Shut. (4) Avaunt, what went before. ter Troilus armed, and Pandarus, Troilus. CALL here my varlet,' I'll unarm again: Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: 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. Doth lesser blench' at sufferance than I do. At Priam's royal table do I sit; And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. Tro. I was about to tell thee,-When my heart, Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus- Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; As true thou tell'st me, when I say--I love her; Pan. I speak no more than truth. Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus? Pan. I have had my labour for my travail; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my la Come, go we then together. [Exe. SCENE II.-The same. A street. Enter Cres- Cres. Who were those went by? Up to the eastern tower, What was his cause of anger? A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; Good; And what of him? Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. Alex. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours, that his valour is crush'de into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that Pan. Prav you, speak no more to me; I will he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries some stain of it: he is melancholy leave all as I found it, and there an end. [Exit Pandarus. An Alarum. without cause, and n.erry against the hair: He Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, hath the joints of every thing: but every thing so rude sounds! (1) Shrink. (2) Split. (3) Suits. 146 out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight. Cres. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry? Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in the battle, and struck him down: the disdain and shane whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. Enter Pandarus. Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. Pan. Good morrow, Cousin Cressid: What do you talk of?-Good morrow, Alexander.-How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium? Cres. This morning, uncle. Pan. What were you talking of, when I came? Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? Cres. No, but brown. Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown, Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much; if she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief, Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose. Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him better than Paris. Cres. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed. Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him the other day into a compassed' window,-and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin. Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total. Pan. Why, he is very young; and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector. Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter?2 Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him; came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin, Cres. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up. Cres. So he says here. Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'H lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there is Troilus will not come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus; I can tell them that too. Cres. What, is he angry too? Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. Cres. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison. Cres. Ay; if ever I saw him before, and knew him. Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus. Cres. Then you say as I say; for I am sure, he is not Hector. Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some degrees. Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. Pan. Nor his beauty. Cres. 'Twould not become him, his own's better. Pan. You have no judgment, niece: Helen herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour, (for so 'tis, I must confess,)-Not brown Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven? Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think, his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia. Cres. O, he smiles valiantly. Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. Pan. Why, go to then-But to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus, Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so. Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg. Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the shell. Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin;-Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess. Cres. Without the rack. Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. Pan. But, there was such laughing;-Queen Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. Cres. With mill-stones." Pan. And Cassandra laughed. Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes run o'er too? Pan. And Hector laughed. Cres. At what was all this laughing? Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin. Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed too. Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as at his pretty answer. Cres. What was his answer? Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white. Cres. This is her question. Pan. That's true; make no question of that. One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: That white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons. Jupiter! quoth she, which of these hairs is Paris my husband? The forked one, quoth he; pluck it out, and give it him. But, there was (1) Bow. (2) Thief. (3) A proverbial saying. such laughing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris meither. |