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blow us.

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

There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pink'd 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 ’en 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.

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

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 is a trim rabble let in.
Your faithful friends o' the
have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.
Port.
An't please your honour,
We are but men ; and what so many may do,
Not being torn a pieces, we have done :
An army cannot rule 'em.

Cham.

Are all these

suburbs? We shall

As I live,

If the King blame me for 't,
By the heels, and suddenly;
Clap round fines for neglect.
And here ye lie, baiting of bombards, when
Ye should do service.
Hark! the trumpets

I'll lay ye all
and on your heads
Ye are lazy knaves;

sound;

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
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.

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, god-mother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c. Train borne by a Lady : then

Cran.

K. Hen.

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. Thank you, good lord Archbishop;
What is her name?

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.

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 'em truth. This royal infant,-Heaven still move about her!— Though in her cradle, yet now promises

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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 : 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,
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

ber;

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.

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