Shakespeare's First Folio Part 453

Cham. This is the Kings Ring

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit

Suff. 'Ts the right Ring, by Heau'n: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling, 'Twold fall vpon our selues

Norf. Doe you thinke my Lords The King will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham. Tis now too certaine; How much more is his Life in value with him?

Would I were fairely out on't

Crom. My mind gaue me, In seeking tales and Informations Against this man, whose honesty the Diuell And his Disciples onely enuy at, Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now haue at ye.

Enter King frowning on them, takes his Seate.

Gard. Dread Soueraigne, How much are we bound to Heauen, In dayly thankes, that gaue vs such a Prince; Not onely good and wise, but most religious: One that in all obedience, makes the Church The cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen That holy duty out of deare respect, His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heare The cause betwixt her, and this great offender

Kin. You were euer good at sodaine Commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not To heare such flattery now, and in my presence They are too thin, and base to hide offences, To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniell, And thinke with wagging of your tongue to win me: But whatsoere thou tak'st me for; I'm sure Thou hast a cruell Nature and a b.l.o.o.d.y.

Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudest Hee, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee.

By all that's holy, he had better starue, Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not

Sur. May it please your Grace; - Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me, I had thought, I had had men of some vnderstanding, And wisedome of my Councell; but I finde none: Was it discretion Lords, to let this man, This good man (few of you deserue that t.i.tle) This honest man, wait like a lowsie Foot-boy At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are?

Why, what a shame was this? Did my Commission Bid ye so farre forget your selues? I gaue ye Power, as he was a Counsellour to try him, Not as a Groome: There's some of ye, I see, More out of Malice then Integrity, Would trye him to the vtmost, had ye meane, Which ye shall neuer haue while I liue

Chan. Thus farre My most dread Soueraigne, may it like your Grace, To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather (If there be faith in men) meant for his Tryall, And faire purgation to the world then malice, I'm sure in me

Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him, Take him, and vse him well; hee's worthy of it.

I will say thus much for him, if a Prince May be beholding to a Subiect; I Am for his loue and seruice, so to him.

Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him; Be friends for shame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury I haue a Suite which you must not deny mee.

That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptisme, You must be G.o.dfather, and answere for her

Cran. The greatest Monarch now aliue may glory In such an honour: how may I deserue it, That am a poore and humble Subiect to you?

Kin. Come, come my Lord, you'd spare your spoones; You shall haue two n.o.ble Partners with you: the old d.u.c.h.esse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? will these please you?

Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you Embrace, and loue this man

Gard. With a true heart, And Brother; loue I doe it

Cran. And let Heauen Witnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation

Kin. Good Man, those ioyfull teares shew thy true hearts, The common voyce I see is verified Of thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury A shrewd turne, and hee's your friend for euer: Come Lords, we trifle time away: I long To haue this young one made a Christian.

As I haue made ye one Lords, one remaine: So I grow stronger, you more Honour gaine.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.

Port. You'l leaue your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaues, leaue your gaping

Within. Good M[aster]. Porter I belong to th' Larder

Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue: Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree staues, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em: Ile scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christenings?

Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude Raskalls?

Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible, Vnlesse wee sweepe 'em from the dore with Cannons, To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe On May-day Morning, which will neuer be: We may as well push against Powles as stirre 'em

Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in?

As much as one sound Cudgell of foure foote, (You see the poore remainder) could distribute, I made no spare Sir

Port. You did nothing Sir

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, To mow 'em downe before me: but if I spar'd any That had a head to hit, either young or old, He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker: Let me ne're hope to see a Chine againe, And that I would not for a Cow, G.o.d saue her

Within. Do you heare M[aster]. Porter?

Port. I shall be with you presently, good M[aster]. Puppy, Keepe the dore close Sirha

Man. What would you haue me doe?

Por. What should you doe, But knock 'em downe by th' dozens? Is this More fields to muster in? Or haue wee some strange Indian with the great Toole, come to Court, the women so besiege vs?

Bless me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore? On my Christian Conscience this one Christening will beget a thousand, here will bee Father, G.o.d-father, and all together

Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir: There is a fellow somewhat neere the doore, he should be a Brasier by his face, for o' my conscience twenty of the Dogdayes now reigne in's Nose; all that stand about him are vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that FireDrake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his Nose discharged against mee; hee stands there like a Morter-piece to blow vs. There was a Habberdashers Wife of small wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me, till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the State. I mist the Meteor once, and hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I might see from farre, some forty Truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o'th' Strond where she was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at length they came to th' broome staffe to me, I defide 'em stil, when sodainly a File of Boyes behind 'em, loose shot, deliuer'd such a showre of Pibbles, that I was faine to draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Worke, the Diuell was amongst 'em I thinke surely

Por. 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 Limbes of Limehouse, their deare Brothers are able to endure. I haue some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three dayes; besides the running Banquet of two Beadles, that is to come.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham. Mercy o' me: what a Mult.i.tude are heere?

They grow still too; from all Parts they are comming, As if we kept a Faire heere? Where are these Porters?

These lazy knaues? Y'haue made a fine hand fellowes?

Theres a trim rabble let in: are all these Your faithfull friends o'th' Suburbs? We shall haue Great store of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies, When they pa.s.se backe from the Christening?

Por. And't please your Honour, We are but men; and what so many may doe, Not being torne a pieces, we haue done: An Army cannot rule 'em

Cham. As I liue, If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all By th' heeles, and sodainly: and on your heads Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues, And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets sound, Th'are come already from the Christening, Go breake among the prea.s.se, and finde away out To let the Troope pa.s.se fairely; or Ile finde A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Monthes

Por. Make way there, for the Princesse

Man. You great fellow, Stand close vp, or Ile make your head ake

Por. You i'th' Chamblet, get vp o'th' raile, Ile pecke you o're the pales else.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of Suffolke, two n.o.blemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening Guifts: Then foure n.o.blemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse of Norfolke, G.o.dmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c.

Traine borne by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other G.o.dmother, and Ladies. The Troope pa.s.se once about the Stage, and Garter speakes.

Gart. Heauen From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life, Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty Princesse of England Elizabeth.