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Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;
Which ye shall never have, while I do live.

Cham. Thus far,

My moft dread Sovereign, may it like your Grace,
To let my Tongue excufe 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 fure in me.

King. Well, well, my Lords, refpect him :
Take him, and ufe him well; he's worthy of it.
I will fay thus much for him, if a Prince
May be beholden to a Subject, I

Am, for his Love and Service, fo to him.

Make me no more ado, but all embrace him;

Be Friends for fhame, my Lords. My Lord of Canterbury,
I have a Suit, which you must not deny me.

There is a fair young Maid that yet wants Baptifm,
You must be Godfather, and answer for her.

Cran. The greatest Monarch now alive may glory
In fuch an Honour; how may I deferve it,
That am a poor and humble Subject to you?

King. Come, come, my Lord, you'd ipare your Spoons: You shall have two noble Partners with you: the old Dutchefs of Norfolk, and the Lady Marquefs of Dorfet?

Will thefe please you?

Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you

Embrace, and love this Man.

Gard. With a true Heart,

And Brother's love I do it..
Cran. And let Heav'n

Witnefs, how dear I hold this Confirmation.

King. Good Man, thofe joyful Tears fhew thy true Heart ; The common Voice I fee is verified

Of thee, which fays thus: Do my Lord of Canterbury
A fhrewd turn, and he's your Friend for ever.
Come, Lords, we trifle time away: I long
To have this young one made a Chriftian.
As I have made ye one, Lords, one remain:
So I grow stronger, you more Honour gain.
I

[Exeunt. SCENE

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Noife and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his Man.

Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye Rafcals; do you take the Court for Paris Garden? ye rude Slaves, leave your gaping.

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

Port. Belong to the Gallows. and be hang'd, ye Rogue: Is this a Place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree Staves, and ftrong ones; thefe are but Switches to 'em: I'll scratch your Heads; you must be feeing Chriftnings? Do you look for Ale and Cakes here, you rude Rascals?

Man. Pray, Sir, be patient; 'tis as much impoffible,
Unless we swept them from the Door with Cannons,
To fcatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em fleep

On May-day Morning, which will never be:
We may as well push against Pauls, as ftir 'em.
Port. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the Tide in?
As much as one found Cudgel of four Foot,
You fee the poor remainder, could diftribute,
I made no fpare, Sir.

Port. You did nothing, Sir.

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand,
To mow 'em down before me; but if I fpar'd any
That had a Head to hit, either young or old,

He or she, Cuckold, or Cuckold-maker,

Let me ne'er hope to fee a Chine again;

And that I would not for a Cow, God fave her.
Within. Do you hear, Mr. Porter?

Port. I fhall be with you prefently, good Mr. Puppy.
Keep the Door clofe, Sirrah.

Man. What would you have me do?

Port. What fhould you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Morefields to Mufter in? Or have we some ftrange Indian with the great Tool, come to Court, the Women fo befiege us? Blefs me ! what a fry of Fornication is at the Door? On my Chriftian Confcience, this one Chriftning will beget a thoufand, here will be Father, God-father, and all together.

Mano

Man. The Spoons will be the bigger, Sir; there is a Fellow fomewhat near the Door, he should be a Brafier by his Face, for o' my Confcience twenty of the Dog-days now reign in's Nofe; 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 Nofe difcharged against me; he ftands there like a Mortar-piece to blow us up. There was Haberdafher's Wife of fmall Wit, near him, that rail'd upon me, 'till her pinck'd Porringer fell off her Head, for kindling fuch a combuftion in the State. Imift the Meteor once, and hit that Woman, who cry'd out Clubs, when I might fee from far, fome forty Truncheons draw to her Succour, which were the hope o'th' Strand, where he was quarter'd; they fell on, I made good my Place; at length they came to th' Broom-ftaff to me, I defy'd 'em ftill, when fuddenly a File of Boys behind 'em, loofe fhot, deliver'd fuch a shower of Pibbles, that I was fain to draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Work; the Devil was amongst 'em, I think furely.

Port. Thefe are the Youths that thunder at a Play-house, and fight for bitten Apples, that no Audience but the Tribu lation of Tower-Hill, or the Limbs of Lime-Houfe, their dear Brothers, are able to endure. I have fome of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance thefe three Days; befides the running Banquet of two Beadles, that is to

come.

Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Mercy o'me; what a Multitude are here?
They grow ftill too; from all Parts they are coming,
As if we kept a Fair here? where are thefe Porters?
Thefe lazy Koaves? Ye've made a fine Hand, Fellows?
There's a trim Rabble let in; are all thefe

Your faithful Friends o'th' Suburbs? We shall have
Great ftore of room, no doubt, left for the Ladies,
When they pass back from the Chriftning?

Port. And't pleafe your Honour,

We are but Men, and what fo many may do,
Not being torn in pieces, we have done:
An Army cannot rule 'm.

Cham.

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Cham. As I live,

If the King blame me for't, I'll lay ye all

By th' Heels, and fuddenly; and on your Heads

Clap round Fines, for neglect: Y'are lazy Knaves,
And here ye lye baiting of Bombards, when
Ye fhould do Service. Hark, the Trumpets found,
Th'are come already from the Chriftning;
Go break among the Prefs, and find a way out
To let the Troop pafs fairly; or I'll find
A Mar falfea fhall hold ye play these two Months.
Port. Make way there, for the Princess.
Man. You great Fellow,

Stand close up, or I'll make your Head ake.
Port. You i'th' Chamblet, get up o'th' Rail,
I'll peck you o'er the Pales elfe.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Enter Trumpets founding; 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 Chriftning Gifts; Then four Noblemen bearing a Canopy, under which the Dutchefs of Norfolk, God-mother, bearing the Child richly habited in a Mantle, &c. Train born by a Lady: Then follows the Marchioness of Dorset, the other God-mother,and Ladies. The Troop pafs once about the Stage, and Garter fpeaks.

Gart. Heaven,

From thy endlefs Goodness fend profperous Life,
Long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty
Princefs of England, Elizabeth.

Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

Cran. And to your Royal Grace, and the good Queen, My Noble Partners, and my felf thus pray, All comfort, joy in this moft gracious Lady, Heav'n ever laid up to make Parents happy, May hourly fall upon ye.

King. Thank you good Lord Archbishop: What is her Name?

Cran. Elizabeth.

King. Stand up, Lord;

With this Kifs, take my Bleffing: God protect thee,
Into whofe hand I give thy Life.

Cran, Amen.

King. My noble Geffips, y'have been too prodigal,
I thank ye heartily: So fhall this Lady,
When he has fo much English.;

Cran. Let me fpeak, Sir,

For Heav'n now bids me; and the words I utter,
Let none think Flattery; for they'll find 'em Truth.
This Royal Infant, Heav'n ftill move about her,
/Though in her Cradle, yet now promises

Upon this Land, a thousand thousand Bleffings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness: She fhall be,
(But few now living can behold that Goodness,)
A Pattern to all Princes living with her,
And all that fhall fucceed: Saba was never
More covetous of Wisdom, and fair Virtue,
Than this poor Soul fhall be. All Princely Graces
That mould up fuch a mighty Piece as this is,
With all the Virtues that attend the Good,
Shall fill be doubled on her. Truth fhall nurfe her,
Holy and Heav'nly Thoughts ftill Counsel her:
She fhall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own fhall blefs 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 fhall eat in fafety,
Under his own Vine what he plants; and fing
The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
God fhall be truly known, and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of Honour,
And by thofe claim their Greatnefs, not by Blood.
Nor fhall this Peace fleep with her; But as when
The Bird of wonder dies, the Maiden Phoenix,
Her Ashes new create another Heir,

As great lin. admiration as her felf;

So fhall fhe leave her Bleffednefs to One,

(When Heav'n fhall call her from this cloud of darkness,) Who from the facred Afhes of her Honour

Shall

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