Till they obey the manage. If we suffer To one man's honor) this contagious sickness, Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbors, Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships, That, in this case of justice, my accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, And freely urge against me. Suf Nay, my lord, That cannot be; you are a counsellor, And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. Gar. My lord, because we have business of more moment, We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure, And our consent, for better trial of you, Cran.Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you, Gar. Good master secretary, I cry your honor mercy; you may, worst Of all this table, say so. Why, my lord? Crom. Not sound? Remember your bold life too. Forbear, for shame, my lords. Gar. Crom. Do. This is too much; I have done. And I. Chun. Then thus for you, my lord,-It stands agreed, I take it, by all voices, that forthwith Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome! In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; His royal self in judgment comes to hear Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: Than but once think this place becomes thee not. Sur. May it please your grace, K. Hen. No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought I had had men of some understarding And wisdom, of my council; but I find none. sion Thus far Bid ye so far forget yourselves! I gave ye terbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me; It was an ancient custom for sponsor to present spoons to their god-children. draw mine honor in, and let them win the work The devil was amongst them, I think, surely. Port. These are the youths that thunder at a play-house, and tight for bitten apples; that ne audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the Limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of them in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days besides the running banquet of two beadles, tha Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy is to come. true heart. The common voice, I see, is verified Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canter- A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.- [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Palace Yard. Noise and Tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man. Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris-garden ?2 ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.3 [Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the larder. Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue: Is this the place to roar in?-Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to them.-I'll scratch your heads: You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and Cake here, you rude rascals? Mun. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible (Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons) To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep Port. You did nothing, sir. Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colorand, to mow them down before me: but, if I spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, cuckold 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, master porter? Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy. Keep the door close, sirrah." Mun. What would you have me do? Port. What should you do but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moortields to muster 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 door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening wilt beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. Mun. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier 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 stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him that railed upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her bead, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor nce, and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succor, which were the hope of the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff with me. I defied them still; when sundenly a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to The bear garden on the Bank-side. ■ Roaring. 4 Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant. Pink'd cap The brazier. Enter the Lord Chamberlain. Cham. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here' They grows still too, from all parts they are com ing, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these por ters, These lazy knaves?-Ye have made a fine hand, As I live, A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months. Port. You i' the camblet, get up o' the rail; I'll pick you o'er the pales else. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The Palace.2 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. Flourish. Enter KING and Train. Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and the good queen, My noble partners, and myself, thus pray :-. K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop; Elizabeth. Amen. Stand up, lord.[The KING kisses the Chuld. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee Into whose hands I give thy life. Cran. 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, For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth This royal infant, (Heaven still move about her!) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be Place of confinement. A dessert of whipping Black leather vessels to hold beer 1 Pitch. At Greenwich (But few now living can behold that goodness) Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall see this, and bless heaven. And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows And yet no day without a deed to crown it. with her: In her days, every man shall eat in safety As great in admiration as herself; So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 'Would I had known no more! but she must die, To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. Thou hast made me now a man; never, before (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of I have received much honor by your presence, darkness,) Who, from the sacred ashes of her honor, Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank yo ANTENOR, his Sons. Trojan Commanders. ACHILLES, CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with the THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grec Greeks. PANDARUS, Uncle to Cressida. ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida. MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam. HELEN, Wife to Menelaus. CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess. Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants Servant to Troilus; Servant to Paris; Servant to CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas. Diomedes. SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it. PROLOGUE. In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of | Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan. The princes orgulous.! their high blood chafed, And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge And Antenorides, with massy staples, Now, expectation, tickling skittish spirits, ACT I. SCENE I.-Troy. Before Priam's Palace. Enter TROILUS, armed, and PANDARUS. Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; So, traitor! when she comes!-When is she thence? Frn. Well, she look`d yesternight fairer than ever I saw ner look, or any woman else. Tro. I was about to tell thee, -When my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain; Lest Hector of my father should perceive me, have (as when the sun doth light a storm) Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness, Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's, (well, go to,) there were no more comparison between the women,-But, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her,-But I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister's Cassandra's wit; but Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,- Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; me, As true thou tell'st me, when I say, I love her; Pan. I speak no more than truth. Tro. Thou dost not speak so much, Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands. Tro. Good Pandarus! how now, Pandarus? Pan. I have had my labor for my travel; illthought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between,but small thanks for my labor. Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus! what, with me? Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore, she's not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not, an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me. Tro. Say I, she is not fair? Pan. I do not care whether you do er no. She's a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her: For my part, I'll meddle no make nor more in the matter. Tro. Pandarus, Pan. Not I. Tro. Sweet Pandarus, Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me; I will leave all as I found it, and there an end. [Exit PANDARUS. An Alarum. Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamors! peace, rude sounds! Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, But, Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me! Alarum. Enter ENEAS. Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not a-field? Tro. Because not there: This woman's answer sorts,! Co womanish it is to be from thence. Cres. And whither go they? Alex. Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is, as a virtue, tix'd, to-day was mov'd: He chid Andromache, and struck his armorer; And like as there were husbandry in war, Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light, And to the field goes he; where every flower, Did as a prophet, weep what it foresaw In Hector's wrath. Cres. What was his cause of anger? Alex. The noise goes, this: There is among the Greeks A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; Cres. Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions;3 he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man into whom nature hath so crowded humors, that his valor is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it: he is melancholy without cause, and merry against the hair: He hath the joints of every thing; but every thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight. Cres. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry? Alex. They say, he yesterday coped Hector in the battle, and struck him down; the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. Enter PANDARUS. Cres. Who comes here? Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. Alex. As may be in the world, lady. Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. Pan. Good morow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of!-Good morrow, Alexander.- How de you, cousin? When were you at Ilium? Cres. This morning, uncle. Pan. What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she?' Cres. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up. Pan. E'en so: Hector was stirring early. Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger. Pan. Was he angry? Cres. So he says, here. |