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or cuckold-maker, let me never hope to see a chine again ; and that I would not for a cow, God save her.
Within. Do you hear, Mr. Porter?
Port. I fall be with you presently, good Mr. Puppy. Keep the door close, firrah.
Man. What would you have me do ?
Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens ? is this Morefields to mufter 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 the door? on my christian conscience, this one christning will beget a thousand; here will be father, god-father, and all together.
Man. The spoons will be the bigger, Sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brasier 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 lands there like a mortar-piece to blow us up. There was a haberdasher's wife of Imall wit near him, that rail'd upon me 'till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combuflion in the state. I mift the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cry'd out, Clubs ! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour; which were the hope of the strand, where she was quarter'd. They fell on í I made good my place; at length they came to th' broomstaff with me, I defy'd 'em ftill; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em deliver'd such a shower of pibbles, loose shot, 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 playhouse; and fight for bitten apples; that no audience but the Tribulation of Tower-Hil, 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.
Enter Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Mercy o'me! what a multitude are here?
's a trim rabble let in; are all these
Port. Please your Honour,
Cham. As I live,
Port. Make way for the Princess.
Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your head ake.
Port. You i'th' camblet, get up o'th' rail, I'll peck you o'er the pales else.
[Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Palace. Enter Trumpets founding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor,
Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his Marshal's fiaf, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen bearing great Panding bowls for the chriftning gifts ; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Dutchess of Norfolk, god-mother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c. Train born by a lady: then follows the Marchionefs of Dorset, the other god-mother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the flage, and Garter speaks.
Gart. Heav'n, from thy endless goodness send long life, And ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, fair Elizabeth!
Flourish. Enter King and Guard. Cran. And to your royal Grace, and the good Queen, My noble partners and myself thus pray; All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, That heav'n e'er laid up to make parents happy, May hourly fall upon ye!
King. Thank you, good lord Arch-bishop: What is her name?
King. Stand up, lord.
King. My noble goffips, y’have been too prodigal,
Cran. Let me speak, Sir;
(But few or none living can behold that goodness)
To all the plains about him : childrens' children
King. Thou speakest wonders.
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England,
'Would, I had known no more! but she must die, (19)
King. O lord Arch-bilhop,
(19) Would I had known no more: but she must die, She muft, the Saints must have her; yet a Virgin, A most unspotted Lilly, &c.] Thus the Editors hitherto, in the Sagacity, have pointed this Passage, and destroy'd the true Sense of it. The first part of this Sentence is a With: The other should be a sorrowful Continuation of the Binop's Prophecy. But, sure, Cranmer was too wise and pious a Man, too well acquainted with the State of Mortality, to make it a part of his Lamentation that this good Princess must one time ou other go to Heaven. As I point it, the Poet makes a fine Compliment to his Royal Mifress's Memory, to lament that The die without leaving an Heir of her Body behind her.
(20) And you good Brethren,] But, the Aldermen never were call'd Rrethren to the King. The Top of the Nobility are but Coulins and Counsellors. Dr. Thirlby, therefore, rightly advised ;
And your good Brethreni. c. the Lord Mayor's Brethren; which is properly their Styles