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mine honour in, and let them win the work: The With this kiss take my blessing : God protect thee! devil was amongst them, I think, surely.
Into whose hande I give thy life. Port. These are the youths that thunder at a Cran.
Amen. play-house, and fight for bitten apples; that no au- K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too dience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the prodigal: limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, endure. I have some of them in limbo patrum,'| When she has so much English. and there they are like to dance these three days; Cran.
Let me speak, sir, besides the running banquet of two beadles,2 that For Heaven now bids me; and the words I utter is to come.
Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth.
This royal infant (Heaven still move about her!) Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Though in her cradle, yet now promises Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are here! || Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, They grow still too, from all parts they are coming, Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, (But few now living can behold that goodness,) These lazy knaves?-Ye have made a fine hand,| À pattern to all princes living with her, fellows,
And all that shall succeed : Sheba was never There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue, Your faithful friends o'the suburbs? We shall have Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces, Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, || That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, When they pass back from the christening; With all the virtues that attend the good, Port.
An't please your honour,|| Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, We are but men ; and what so many may do, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: Not being torn a-pieces, we have done :
She shall be lov’d, and fear'd: Her own shall bless An army cannot rule them.
As I live,
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all And hang their heads with sorrow : Good grows By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
with her: Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy knaves ;|| In her days, every man shall eat in safety And here ye lie baiting of bumbards,3 when Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound: The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours : They are come already from the christening : God shall be truly known; and those about her Go, break among the press, and find a way out From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months. (Noro shall this peace sleep with her: But as when
Port. Make way there for the princess. The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phænix,
Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll|| Her ashes new create another heir, make your head ache.
As great in admiration as herself; Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail; I'll || So shall she leave her blessedness to one, pick4 you o'er the pales else.
(Exeunt. (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of SCENE IV.–The Palace.5 Enter trumpets,|| Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
darkness) sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor || Shall'star-like
rise, as great in fame as she was, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk, with his And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, termarshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen
ror, bearing great standing-bowls, for the christen- That were the servants to this chosen infant, ing gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a can. Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; opy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, god.|| Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, mother, bearing the Child, richly habited in a His honour and the greatness of his name mantle, &c. Train borne by a Lady; then fol || Shall be, and make new nations : He shall flourish, lows the Marchioness of Dorset, the other god. || And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches mother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about to all the plains about him : -Our children's the stage, and Garter speaks.
children Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send Shall see this, and bless Heaven. prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high K. Hen.
Thou speakest wonders. and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her, Flourish. Enter King, and Train.
And yet no day without a deed to crown it. Cran. (Kneeling.) And to your royal grace, and 'Would I had known no more! but she must die, the good queen,
She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, My noble partners, and myself, thus pray :- A most unspotted lily shall she pass All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
K. Hen. O lord archbishop, May hourly fall upon ye!
Thou hast made me now a man ; never, before
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire
Stand up, lord. --|| To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.(The King kisses the child. I thank ye all, ---To you, my good lord mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholden; (1) Place of confinement. (2) A dessert of whipping.
(6) This and the following seventeen lines were (3) Black leather vessels to hold beer. probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession (4) Pitch.
(5) At Greenwich. of king James.
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence; For such a one we show'd them: If they smile, And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way,|| And say, 'twill do, I know, within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap, Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, ||If they hold, when their ladies bid them clap. 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.
The play of Henry the Eighth is one of those EPILOGUE.
which still keeps possession of the stage by the
splendor of its pageantry. The coronation, about "TIS ten to one, this play can never please forty years ago, drew the people together in multiAll that are here: Some come to take their ease, tudes for a great part of the winter. And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, not the only merit of this play. The meek sorrows, We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear, and virtuous distress, of Katharine, have furnished They'll say, 'tis naught: others, to hear the city some scenes, which may be justly numbered among Abus'd extremely, and to cry, that's witty! the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Which we have not done neither: that, I fear, Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Katharine. All the expected good we are like to hear Every other part may be easily conceived and easily For this play at this time, is only in
written. The merciful construction of good women;
Yet pomp is PERSONS REPRESENTED. Priam, King of Troy.
|Thersites, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian. Hector,
Alexander, servant to Cressida. Troilus,
Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris ; Servant to Paris, his sons.
Helen, wife to Menelaus.
Andromache, wife to Hector.
Cressida, daughter to Calchas.
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
Scene, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.
ACT І. IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of|| SCENE 1.-Troy. Before Priam's palace. EnGreece
ter Troilus armed, and Pandarus.
CALL here my varlet, I'll unarm again :
Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. With wanton Paris sleeps; And that's the quarrel. Pan. Will this geero ne'er be mended ? To Tenedos they come ;
Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
strength, Their warlike fraughtage :Now on Dardan plains Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant ; The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch But I am weaker than a woman's tear, Their brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city, Tamer than sleep, fonder? than ignorance; Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan, Less valiant than the virgin in the night, And Antenorides, with massy staples,
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy. And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this : for Sperr3 up the sons of Troy.
my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He, Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry On one and other side, Trojan and Greek, the grinding. Sets all on hazard :- And hither am I come
Tro. Have I not tarried ? A prologue arm’d,—but not in confidence
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the Of author's pen, or actor's voice; but suited bolting. In like conditions as our argument, —.
Tro. Have I not tarried ? To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Pan. Ay, the bolting ; but you must tarry the Leaps o'er the vaunt4 and firstlings of those broils, leavening. 'Ginning in the middle; starting thence away Tro. Still have I tarried. To what may be digested in a play.
Pan. Ay, to the leavening : but here's yet in the Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are; word-hereafter, the kneading, the making of the Now, good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking ; nay,
(1) Proud, disdainful. (2) Freight. (3) Shut. (4) Avaunt, what went before.
(5) A servant to a knight.
you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance || Fools on both sides ! Helen must needs be fair, to burn your lips.
When with your blood you daily paint her thus. Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, I cannot fight upon this
argument; Doth lesser biench at sufferance than I do. It is too starv'd a subject for my sword. At Priam's royal table do I sit;
But Pandarus–O gods, how do you plague me!
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
Alarum. Enter Æneas.
sorts, 3 her,--But I would somebody had heard her talk For womanish it is to be from thence. yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your What news, Æneas, from the field to-day? sister Cassandra's wit; but
Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus
Tro. By whom, Æneas ? When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd, Æne.
Troilus, by Menelaus. Reply not in how many fathoms deep
Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'Tis but a scar to scorn; They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. (Alarum. In Cressid's love: Thou answer'st, She is fair; Æne. Hark! what good sport is out of town toPour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
day ! Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand,
may.-In whose comparison all whites are ink,
But, to the sport abroad;- Are you bound thither?
SCENE 11.—The same. A street. Enter Cres-
sida and Alexander. As true thou tell'st me, when I say, I love her; But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Cres. Who were those went by? Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
Queen Hecuba, and Helen. The knife that made it.
Cres. And whither go they? Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Up to the eastern tower, Tro. Thou dost not speak so much.
Whose height commands as subject all the vale, Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be To see the battle. Hector, whose patience as she is: if she be fair, 'tis better for her; an she Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was mov'd : be not, she has the mends in her own hands. He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer;
Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus ? And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Pan. I have had my labour for my travail; ill- || Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light, thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone And to the field
goes where every flower between and between, but small thanks for my la- Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw bour.
In Hector's wrath. Tro. What, art thou angry,Pandarus? what, with Cres.
What was his cause of anger? me?
Alex. The noise goes, this : There is among the Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore, she's
Greeks not so fair as Helen : an she were not kin to me, | A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; she would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sun-|| They call him, Ajax. day. But what care I? I care not, an she were a Cres.
And what of him? black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me.
Aler. They say he is a very man per se, 4 Tro. Say I, she is not fair ?
And stands alone. Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the or have no legs. Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see Aler. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in of their particular additions;5 he is as valiant as the matter.
the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant : Tro. Pandarus,
a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours, Pan. Not I.
that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced Tro. Sweet Pandarus,-
with discretion : there is no man hath a virtue that Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, leave all as I found it, and there an end.
but he carries some stain of it: he is melancholy (Exit Pandarus. An Alarum. without cause, and merry against the hair : He Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, hath the joints of every thing: but every thing so rude sounds!
(4) By himself. (5) Characters. (1) Shrink. (2) Split,
out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many Cres. No, but brown. hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. no sight.
Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. Cres. But how should this man, that makes me Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris. smile, make Hector angry?
Cres. Why, Paris, bath colour enough. Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in Pan. So he has. the battle, and struck him down: the disdain and Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much: if shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting || she praised him above, his complexion is higher and waking
than his; he having colour enough, and the other Enter Pandarus.
higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexCres. Who comes here?
ion. I had as lief, Helen's golden tongue had comAlex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
mended Troilus for a copper nose. Cres. Hector's a gallant man.
Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him Alex. As may be in the world, lady.
better than Paris. Pan. What's that? what's that?
Cres. Then she's a merry Greek, indeed. Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.
Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him *Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid : What do
the other day into a compassed! window,-and, you 'you talk of?-Good morrow, Alexander. How do know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin. you, cousin? When were you at Ilium?
Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon Cres. This morning, uncle.
bring his particulars therein to a total. Pan. What were you talking of, when I came?
Pan. Why, he is very young : and yet will be, Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium within three pound, lift as much as his brother
Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter?2 Pan. E'en so; Hector was stirring early.
Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him; Cres. That were we talking of, and of his
she came, and puts me her white hand to his
cloven chin, Pan. Was he angry? Cres. So he says here.
Cres. Juno have mercy (How came it cloven? Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too;
Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled : I think, his he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that : smiling beccmes him better than any man in all and there is Troilus will not come far behind him;
Phrygia. let them take heed of Troilus ; I can tell them that
Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Pan. Does he not? too. Cres. What, is he angry too?
Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. Pan. Who, Troilus ? Troilus is the better man
Pan. Why, go to then :--But to prove to you of the two.
that Helen loves Troilus, Cres. 0, Jupiter! there's no comparison.
Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? prove Do you know a man if
Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more Cres. Ay; if ever I saw him before, and knew than I esteem an addle egg. him.
Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus.
love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the shell. Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he || she tickled his chin ;-Indeed,
she has a marvel
Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think how is not Hector. Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some
lous white band, I must needs confess.
Cres. Without the rack. degrees. Cres. 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself.
Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, he on his chin.
many a wart is richer. were, Cres. So he is.
Pan. But, there was such laughing ;-Queen Pan. - Condition, I hadgone barefoot to India. Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. Cres. He is not Hector.
Cres. With mill-stones, 3 Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself.-'Would
Pan. And Cassandra laughed. 'a were himself! Well, the gods are above; Time
Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under must friend, or end: Well , Troilus, well, I would, the pot of her eyes;-Did her eyes run o'er too?
Pan. And Hector laughed. my heart were in her body !-No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
Cres. At what was all this laughing? Cres. Excuse me.
Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied Pan. He is elder.
on Troilus' chin. Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.
Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have
laughed too. Pan. The other's not come to't; you shall tell
Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as me another tale, when the other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit this
at his pretty answer.
Cres. What was his answer?
Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty hairs Cres. No matter.
on your chin, and one of them is white. Pan. Nor his beauty.
Čres. This is her question. Cres 'Twould not become him, his own's better.
Pan. That's true; make no question of that. Pan. You have no judgment, niece: Helen her. One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white : self swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown | That white hair is my father, and all the rest are favour, (for so 'tis, I must confess,)-Not brown his sons. Jupiter! quoth she, which of these hairs neither.
is Paris my husband? The forked one, quoth
he; pluck it out, and give it him. But, there was (1) Bow. (2) Thief. (3) A proverbial saying. ll such laughing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris VOL. 11.
you see him?