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If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all
By the heels, and fuddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy knaves;
And here lie baiting of bumbards, when

You fhould do fervice. Hark, the trumpets found;
They are come already from the christening:
Go, break among the prefs, and find a way out
To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find
A Marshalfea, fhall hold you play these two months.
Port. Make way there for the princess.

Man. You great fellow, ftand close up, or I'll make your head ache.

Port. You i' the camblet, get up o' the rail; I'll peck you o'er the pales elfe.

SCENE IV. The Palace.


Enter Trumpets, founding; then two Aldermen, LordMayor, Garter, CRANMER, Duke of NORFOLK with his Marshall's Staff, Duke of SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great standing Bowls for the Chrif tening Gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a Canopy under which the Dutchefs 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 pafs once about the Stage, and Garter speaks: Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, fend profperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princefs 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 moft gracious lady,
Heaven 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.—

[The King kies the Child

With this kifs, take my bleffing: God protect thee! Into whofe hand I give thy life.

Cran. Amen.

King. My noble goffips, ye have been too prodigal: I thank ye heartily; fo fhall this lady, When the has fo much English.

Cran. Let me fpeak, fir,

For Heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal infant (heaven ftill move about her!)
Though in her cradle, yet now promifes
Upon this land a thoufand thoufand bleffings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness: She thall be
(But few now living can behold that goodness)
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that fhall fucceed: Sheba was never
More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue,
Than this poor foul fhall be: all princely graces,
That mould up fuch a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her : truth fhall nurfe her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts ftill counfel her:
She fhall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own fhall blefs
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, [her;


And hang their heads with forrow: Good grows with her:

In her days, every man fhall eat in safety,
Under his own vine, what he plants; and fing
The merry fongs of peace to all his neighbours:
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her fhall reap the perfect way 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 afhes new create another heir,

As great in admiration as herfelf;

So thall the leave her bleffednefs to one
(When heaven thall call her from this cloud of

Who from the facred afhes of her honour,
Shall ftar-like rife, as great in fame as the was,
And fo ftand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the fervants to this chofen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
Wherever the bright fun of heaven fhall fhine,
His honour, and the greatnefs of his name
Shall be, and make new nations: He fhall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him:-Our children's child-
Shall fee this, and blefs heaven.

King. Thou fpeakeft wonders.]


Cran. She fhall be, to the happiness of England, An aged princefs; many days thall fee her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. Would I had known no more! but the must die, She muft, the faints must have her; yet a virgin, A most unfpotted lily fhall the pafs To the ground, and all the world fhall mourn her.

King. O lord archbishop,

Thou haft made me now a man; never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing:
This oracle of comfort has fo pleas'd me,
That, when I am in heaven, I fhall defire
To fee what this child does, and praise my Maket.—
I thank ye all.-To you, my good lord-mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholden;
I have receiv'd much honour by your prefence,
fhall find me thankful. Lead the way,



Ye must all fee the queen, and fhe must thank ye, She will be fick elfe. This day, no man think He has bufinefs at his house; for all shall stay, This little one fhall make it holiday.



is ten to one, this play can never pleafe ll that are here: Some come to take their eafe, 'nd flep an act or two; but those we fear, e bave frighted with our trumpets; fo, 'tis clear, hey'll fay, 'tis naught, others, to hear the city bus'd extremely, and to cry-that's witty! hich we have not done neither: that, I fear, Ill the expected good we are like to hear or this play at this time, is only in The merciful confiruction of good women; or fuch a one we fhew'd 'em: If they fmile, Ind fay, 'twill do, I know, within a while, All the beft men are ours; for 'tis ill hap, f they bold, when their ladies bid 'em clap.


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