at length they came to th' broom-ftaff with me, I defy'd 'em ftill; when fuddenly a file of boys behind 'em deliver'd fuch a fhower of pebbles, loose shot, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the Work; the devil was amongst 'em, I think, furely.

Port. These are the youths that thunder at a playhoufe; and fight for bitten apples; that no audience but the Tribulation of Tower-Hill, or the limbs of Limehoufe, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have fome of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; befides the running banquet of two beadles, that is to come.

Enter Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Mercy o' me! what a multitude are here? They grow ftill too; from all parts they are coming, As if we kept a fair. Where are these porters; Thefe lazy knaves ? ye've made a fine hand, fellows; There's a trim rabble let in; are all these

Your faithful friends o'th' fuburbs? we fhall have
Great ftore of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from th' chriftning?
Port. Pleafe your Honour,

We are but men; and what fo many may do,
Not being torn in picces, we have done :
An army cannot rule 'em.

Cham. As I live,

If the King blame me for't, I'll lay ye all
By th' heels, and fuddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaves:
And here ye lie baiting of bumbards, when
Ye fhould do fervice. Hark, the trumpets found;
Th' are come already from the chriftening;
Go break among the prefs, and find a way out
To let the troop pafs fairly; or I'll find

A Marfhalfea, fhall hold you play thefe two months.
Port, Make way for the Princess.

Man. You great fellow, ftand clofe up, or I'll make your head ake.

Port.

Port. You i'th' camblet, get up o'th' rail, I'll peck you o'er the pales elfe.

[Exeunt.

Enter Trumpets founding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his Marfhal's ftaff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen bearing great ftanding bowls for the chriftning gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Dutchefs of Norfolk, god-mother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c. Train borne by a Lady: then follows the Marchioness of Dorfet, the other god-mother,and ladies! The troop pass once about the flage, and Garter speaks. EAV'N, from thy endless goodness send long life,

Gart. H

And ever happy, to the high and mighty

Princefs 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 moft gracious lady, That heav'n e'er laid up to make parents happy, May hourly fall upon ye!

King. Thank you, good lord Archbishop:

What is her name?,

Cran. Elizabeth.

King. Stand up, lord.

With this kifs take my bleffing: God protect thee, Into whofe hand I give thy life.

Cran. Amen.

King. My noble goffips, y' have been too prodigal, I thank you heartily: fo fhall this lady, When fhe has fo much English.

Cran. Let me fpeak, Sir;

(For Heav'n now bids me) and the words I utter, Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth. This royal Infant, (heaven ftill move about her)

Though

Though in her cradle, yet now promifes
Upon this land a thousand thousand bleffings,
Which time fhall bring to ripenefs. She fhall be
(But few or none living can behold that goodness)
A pattern to all Princes living with her,
And all that fhall fucceed. Sheba was never
More covetuous of wisdom and fair virtue,
Than this bleft foul fhall be. All Princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this,
With all the virtues that attend the good,

Shall ftill be doubled on her. Truth fhall nurfe her:
Holy and heav'nly thoughts ftill counsel her:

She fhall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own fhall blefs her;
Her
foes shake, like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with forrow. Good grows with
In her days, ev'ry man fhall eat in safety, [her.
Under his own vine, what he plants; and fing
The merry fongs of peace to all his neighbours.
God fhall be truly known, and those about her
From her fhall read the perfect ways of honour,
And claim by those their Greatnefs, not by blood.
Nor fhall this peace fleep with her; but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden Phoenix,
Her afhes new create another heir,

As great in admiration as herself;

So fhall fhe leave her bleffedness to one,

[nefs)

(When heav'n fhall call her from this cloud of darkWho from the facred afhes of her honour

Shall far-like rife, as great in fame as fhe was, [rour,
And fo ftand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Love, Truth, Ter-
That were the fervants to this chofen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
Where-ever the bright fun of heav'n fhall fhine,
His honour and the greatnefs of his name
Shall be, and make new nations.

He fhall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him: children's children
Shall fee this, and blefs heav'n.

King. Thou fpeakeft wonders.

Cam..

Cran. She fhall be, to the happiness of England, An aged Princefs; many days fhall fee her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 'Would, I had known no more! but fhe muft die, She muft, the Saints must have her yet a Virgin; A moft unfpotted lily fhe fhall pafs

To th' ground, and all the world fhall mourn her.
King. O lord Archbishop,

Thou'ft made me now a man; never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has fo pleas'd me,
That when I am in heav'n, I fall defire

To fee what this child does, and praife my maker.
I thank ye all.-To you, my good Lord Mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholden:
I have receiv'd much honour by your prefence,
And fhall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords
Ye must all fee the Queen, and the muft thank ye,
She will be fick elfe. This day no man think,
H'as bufinefs at his houfe, for all shall stay;
This little one fhall make it holy day.

ye

[Exeunt.

EPILOGU E.

'T1

IS ten to one, this Play can never please

All that are here: Some come to take their cafe,
And fleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
We've frighted with our trumpets: fotis clear,
They'll fay, it's nought. 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 w`are like to hear
For this Play at this time, is only in
The merciful conflruction of good women;
(For fuch a one we fhew'd 'em). If they smile,
And fay, twill do; know within a while
All the best men are ours; for tis ill hap,
If they hold, when their ladies bid 'em clap.

The End of the Sixth Volume.