Chan. Thus far My most dread sovereign, may it like your K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him; : Am, for his love and service, so to him. I have a suit which you must not deny me; You must be godfather, and answer for her. In such an honour; How may I deserve it, Gar. With a true heart, Cran. And let heaven [you, SCENE III.-The Palace Yard. Noise and tumult within. Enter PORTER and his MAN. Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris-garden?t ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.t [Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the larder. Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue: Is this a place to roar in?-Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to them.-I'li scratch your heads: You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? Man. Pray, Sir, be patient; 'tis as much Port. How got they in, and be hang'd? It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoors The bear garden on the Bank-side. Port. You dic. nothing, Sir. Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,* to mow them down before me: but, If I spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, cuckold or cuckoldmaker, let me never hope to see a chine again. and that I would not for a cow, God save her. [Within.] Do you hear, master Porter? Port. I shall be with you presently, good, master puppy.-Keep the door close, Sirrah. Man. What would you have me do? Port. What should you do, but knock them 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. 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 firedrake 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 ti her pink'd porringert fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor‡ once, and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her suc cour, which were the hope of the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff with me, I defied them still; when sud denly a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them wi 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 dance these three days; besides the running Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to banquet of two beadles, that is to come. Enter the Lord CHAMBERLAIN. Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here! [coming. They grow still too, from all parts they are As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves?-Ye have made a fine There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these Port. An't please your honour Cham. As I live, If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish glant Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy | And hang their heads with sorrow: Good knaves; And here ye lie baiting of bumbards,* when Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound; They are 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 camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll pick you o'er the pales else. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The Palace.t Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord MAYOR, GARTER, CRANMER, Duke of NORFOLK, with his Marshal's Stuff, 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 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. Gurt. 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. 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? Cran. Elizabeth. K. Hen. Stand up, lord. [The KING kisses the child. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect Into whose hands I give thy life. [thee! Cran. Amen. 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: God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of hon[blood. And by those claim their greatness, not by [Nor shall this peace sleep with her: But as when our, The oird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new create another heir. As great in admiration as herself; So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,) Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, That were the servants to this chosen infant, K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders] Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of Eng land, An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 'Would I had known no more! but she must die, [gin, She must, the saints must have her; yet a vir- Thou hast made me now a man; never, before lords; [ye, Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank She will be sick else. This day, no man think He 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 All that are here: Some come to take their ease, And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, They'll say, 'tis naught: others, to hear the This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession of King James. IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd, To Tenedos they come; And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Their warlike fraughtage: Now on Dardan plains The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, Ginning in the middle; starting thence away Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are; + Shut ACT I. SCENE I.-Troy-Before PRIAM'S Palea. Enter TROILUS arm'd, and PANDARUS. Tro. Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again: Why should I war without the walls of Troy, That find such cruel battle here within? Each Trojan, that is master of his heart, Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. Pan. Will this geert ne'er be mended? Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; But I am weaker than a woman's tear, 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. 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. Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet 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. Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blenchs at sufferance than I do. 嘘 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: [ness, But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladIs like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. 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 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 The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughinen! This thou tell'st me, As true thou tell'st me, when I say-I love her; But, saying, thus, instead of oil and balm, Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given The knife that made it. Pan. I speak no more than truth. Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. [me Pan. 'Faith, I'll not ineddle 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 r hands. Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus? Pun. I have had my labour for my travel; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour. Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? Pan. Because she is 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. Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar; Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not afield? Tro. Because not there; This woman's answer sorts, 豪 For womanish it is to be from thence. Ene. Troilus, by Menelaus. Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar te to-day! Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were may.[ther? But to the sport abroad;-Are you bound thiEne. In all swift haste. Tro. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt. SCENE (1.-The same.-A Street. Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER. Cres. Who were those went by? Alex. Queen Hecuba, and Helen. Cres. And whither go they? Alex. Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd: He chid Andromache, and struck his ar mourer; And, like as there were husbandry in war, Cres. What was his cause of anger? A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him, Ajax. Cres. Good; And what of him? Alex. They say he is a very man per se,t 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 crouded humours, that his valour is crusheds into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he carries some stain of it: he is melancholy * Suits. + By himself. + Characters. (Mingled without cause, and merry against the hair:* He hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so 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 shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. Enter PANDARUS. Cres. Who comes here? Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. 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. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up. Pan. E'en so; Hector was stirring early. Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger. Pan. Was he angry? Cres. So he says here. Pun. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll 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. Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him? Cres. Ay; if ever I saw him before, and knew him. Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus. he is not Hector. a brown favour, (for sc 'tis, I inust confess,)Not brown neither. Cres. No, but brown. Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. 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 hir 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 ?t Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him;-she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin, Cres. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven? Pun. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think his smiling becomes him better than any maa in all Phrygia. Cres. O, he smiles valiantly. Pan. Does he not? 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 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 a 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;-Queea Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. Cres. With mill-stones. Pan. And Cassandra laughed. Cres. But there was a more temperate fre under the pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes ran o'er too? Pan. And Hector laughed. Cres. At what was all this laughing? Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Hele spied on Troilus' chin. Cres. An't had been a green hair, I shou.d 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 kawi on your chin, and one of them is white. Cres. This is her question. |