The Palace. | |
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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 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. | |
| Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth! | |
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Flourish. Enter KING and Train. | 4 |
| 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, | 8 |
| May hourly fall upon ye! | |
| K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop: | |
| What is her name? | |
| Cran. Elizabeth. | 12 |
| K. Hen. Stand up, lord. [The KING kisses the Child. | |
| With this kiss take my blessing; God protect thee! | |
| Into whose hand I give thy life. | |
| Cran. Amen. | 16 |
| K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal: | |
| I thank ye heartily: so shall this lady | |
| When she has so much English. | |
| Cran. Let me speak, sir, | 20 |
| For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter | |
| Let none think flattery, for they’ll find ’em truth. | |
| This royal infant,—heaven still move about her!— | |
| Though in her cradle, yet now promises | 24 |
| Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, | |
| Which time shall bring to ripeness: she shall be— | |
| But few now living can behold that goodness— | |
| A pattern to all princes living with her, | 28 |
| And all that shall succeed: Saba was never | |
| More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue | |
| Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces, | |
| That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, | 32 |
| With all the virtues that attend the good, | |
| Shall still be doubled on her; truth shall nurse her; | |
| Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her; | |
| She shall be lov’d and fear’d; her own shall bless her; | 36 |
| Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, | |
| And hang their heads with sorrow; good grows with her. | |
| In her days every man shall eat in safety | |
| Under his own vine what he plants; and sing | 40 |
| 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 honour, | |
| And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. | 44 |
| Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when | |
| The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phœnix, | |
| Her ashes new-create another heir | |
| As great in admiration as herself, | 48 |
| 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, | |
| Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, | 52 |
| And so stand fix’d. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, | |
| That were the servants to this chosen infant, | |
| Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him: | |
| Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, | 56 |
| His honour and the greatness of his name | |
| Shall be, and make new nations; he shall flourish, | |
| And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches | |
| To all the plains about him; our children’s children | 60 |
| Shall see this, and bless heaven. | |
| K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders. | |
| Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England, | |
| An aged princess; many days shall see her, | 64 |
| And yet no day without a deed to crown it. | |
| Would I had known no more! but she must die, | |
| She must, the saints must have her, yet a virgin; | |
| A most unspotted lily shall she pass | 68 |
| To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. | |
| K. Hen. O lord archbishop! | |
| Thou hast made me now a man: never, before | |
| This happy child, did I get any thing. | 72 |
| This oracle of comfort has so pleas’d me, | |
| That when I am in heaven, I shall desire | |
| To see what this child does, and praise my Maker. | |
| I thank ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor, | 76 |
| And your good brethren, I am much beholding; | |
| I have receiv’d much honour by your presence, | |
| And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords: | |
| Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye; | 80 |
| 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. | |
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EPILOGUE. | 84 |
| ’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, | |
| We’ve frighted with our trumpets; so, ’tis clear | 88 |
| They ’ll say ’tis naught: others, to hear the city | |
| Abus’d extremely, and to cry, ‘That’s witty!’ | |
| Which we have not done neither: that, I fear, | |
| All the expected good we’re like to hear | 92 |
| For this play at this time, is only in | |
| The merciful construction of good women; | |
| For such a one we show’d ’em: if they smile, | |
| And say ’twill do, I know, within a while | 96 |
| All the best men are ours; for ’tis ill hap | |
| If they hold when their ladies bid ’em clap. | |
