The Life of Henry the Eighth

CHAMBERLAINMercy o' me, what a multitude are here!They grow still too; from all parts they are comingAs if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters,These lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand, fellows.There's a trim rabble let in. Are all theseYour faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall haveGreat store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,When they pass back from the christening.PORTERAn't please your honour,We are but men; and what so many may do,Not being torn a-pieces, we have done.An army cannot rule 'em.CHAMBERLAINAs I live,If the King blame me for't, I'll lay ye allBy the heels, and suddenly; and on your headsClap round fines for neglect. Ye're lazy knaves;And here ye lie baiting of bombards, whenYe should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;They're come already from the christening.Go, break among the press, and find a way outTo let the troops pass fairly; or I'll findA Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.PORTERMake way there for the princess.MANYou great fellow,Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.PORTERYou i' the camlet, get up o' the rail;I'll peck you o'er the pales else.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE V. The palace

[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, etc., train borne by a Lady; then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the other godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks.]

GARTERHeaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperouslife, long and ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess ofEngland, Elizabeth!

[Flourish. Enter King and Guard.]

CRANMER[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,May hourly fall upon ye!KINGThank you, good Lord Archbishop.What is her name?CRANMERElizabeth.KINGStand up, lord.

[The King kisses the child.]

With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!Into whose hand I give thy life.CRANMERAmen.KINGMy noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal.I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,When she has so much English.CRANMERLet me speak, sir,For Heaven now bids me; and the words I utterLet none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.This royal infant – Heaven still move about her! —Though in her cradle, yet now promisesUpon 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,And all that shall succeed. Saba was neverMore covetous of wisdom and fair virtueThan this pure soul shall be. All princely graces,That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,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;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 singThe merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.God shall be truly known; and those about herFrom her shall read the perfect ways of honour,And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as whenThe bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,Her ashes new create another heirAs great in admiration as herself;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 honourShall star-like rise as great in fame as she was,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,His honour and the greatness of his nameShall be, and make new nations. He shall flourish,And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branchesTo all the plains about him. Our children's childrenShall see this, and bless Heaven.KINGThou speakest wonders.CRANMERShe shall be, to the happiness of England,An aged princess; many days shall see her,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 passTo the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.KINGO Lord Archbishop,Thou hast made me now a man! Never, beforeThis happy child, did I get anything.This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,That when I am in heaven I shall desireTo see what this child does, and praise my Maker.I thank ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor,And you, 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,She will be sick else. This day, no man thinkHas business at his house; for all shall stay.This little one shall make it holiday.

[Exeunt.]

EPILOGUE

'Tis ten to one this play can never pleaseAll that are here. Some come to take their ease,And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,They'll say 'tis nought: others, to hear the cityAbus'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 hearFor this play at this time, is only inThe merciful construction of good women;For such a one we show'd 'em. If they smileAnd say 'twill do, I know, within a whileAll the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hapIf they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.