But I must needs to the Tower, my lords? Why, what a shame was this! Did my com Gar. What other mission Would you expect? you are strangely trouble-Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling, 110 My mind gave me, 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; 120 Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not me; But, whatsoe'er thou takest me for, I'm sure Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody. [To Cranmer] Good man, sit down. me see the proudest Now let 130 Power as he was a counsellor to try him, Concerning his imprisonment, was rather, 150 If there be faith in men, meant for his trial, And fair purgation to the world, than malice, I'm sure, in me. King. 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 beholding 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 Canterbury, 160 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 honor: how may I deserve it, King. Come, come, my lord, you'ld spare your spoons: you shall have two noble partners with you; the old Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset: will these please you? Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace and love this man. Gar. With a true heart 170 And brother-love I do it. The common voice, I see, is verified A shrewd turn, and he is your friend forever.' SCENE IV. The palace yard. his Man. Exeunt. He that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and And wisdom of my council; but I find none. Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: do you take the court for Paris-garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. [Within Good master porter, I belong to the larder. Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! is this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones: these are but switches to 'em. I'll scratch your heads: To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep Port. You did nothing, sir. Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor To mow 'em down before me: but if I spared any Port. What would you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. 39 Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. 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 pinked 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 succor, 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 'em still: when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honor in, and let 'em win the work: the devil was amongst 'em, I think surely. Port. These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, 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 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come. 70 Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN. Cham. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! have If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all They're come already from the christening: months. 90 Port. Make way there for the princess. Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache. SCENE V. 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, godmother, bearing the child richly habited in a manfle, &c., train borne by a Lady; then foilows the MARCHIONESS 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 guard. Cran. [Kneeling] And to your royal grace, and the good queen, My noble partners, and myself, thus pray: King. Thank you, good lord archbishop: What is her name? Elizabeth. ΤΟ Cran. King. Stand up lord. [The King kisses the child. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! Into whose hand I give thy life. Amen. King. My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal: Cran. I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, Cran Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: 30 She shall be loved and feared: her own shall bless her; Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, with her: In her days every man shall eat in safety, To all the plains about him: our children's children Shall see this, and bless heaven. King. An aged princess; many days shall see her, Thou hast made me now a man! never, before I thank yeall. To you, my good lord mayor, 70 lords: Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, She will be sick else. This day, no man think Has business at his house; for all shall stay: This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt. EPILOGUE. 'Tis ten to one this play can never please So shall she leave her blessedness to one, Who from the sacred ashes of her honor terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, clear, They'll say 'tis nought: others, to hear the city 20 Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, Beginning in the middle, starting thence away Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are: 30 Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's palace. Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness valiant; ΙΟ 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 needs tarry the grinding. Tro. Have I not tarried? Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting. Tro. Have I not tarried? Pan. Ay, the bolting, but you must tarry the leavening. Tro. Still have I tarried. 20 Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's in the word 'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven and the baking: nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips. Tre. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do. 31 At Priam's royal table do I sit; And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, So, traitor! "When she comes!" When is she thence? 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, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, I have, as when the sun doth light a storm, Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness, Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. 40 Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's-well, go to-there were no more comparison between the women: but, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her: but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but 50 Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love: thou answer'st 'she is fair,' Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink, Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'st me, As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; 60 Pan. I speak no more than truth. Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. Pan. Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands. Tro. Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus? Pan. I have had my labor for my travail; illthought on of her and ill-thought on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks tor my labor. Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? Pan. Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me. 80 Tro. Say I she is not fair? Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter. Tro. Pandarus,— Tro. Sweet Pandarus, Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I found it, and there an end. 91 [Exit Pandarus. An alarum, Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamors! peace, rude sounds! Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, When with your blood you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument: 100 It is too starved a subject for my sword. Ene. How now, prince Troilus! wherefore not afield? Tro. Because not there: this woman's answer sorts, For womanish it is to be from thence. Tro. Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.' But to the sport abroad: are you bound thither? Come, go we then together. A street. SCENE II. The same. A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; ΤΟ Cres. Good; and what of him? Alex. They say he is a very man per se, And stands alone. Cres. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed 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 humors that his valor is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, |