« ПредишнаНапред »
Norfolk, godmotber, 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. Heav'n, from thy endless goodness, send long And ever happy, to the high and mighty [life, Princess of England, fair Elisabeth!
Flourish. Enter King and Guard. Cran. And to your Royal Grace, and the good Queen, My noble partners, and myfelf thus pray; All comfort, joy, in this most 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?
King. Stand up, Lord.
With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee,
Into whose hand I give thy life.
King. My noble gossips, y' have been too prodigal,
I thank you heartily : fo fhall this lady,
When she has so much English.
Cran. Let me speak, Sir;
(For Heav'n now bids me,) and the words I utter,
Let none think flatt’ry, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal infant, (heav'n 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
(But few now living can behold that goodness)
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed. Sheba was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue,
Than this blefs'd foul shall be. All princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her:
Holy and heav'nly 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, [her.
* And hang their heads with forrow. Good grows with
“ In her days, ev'ry man shall eat in safety
“ Under his own vine what he plants, and fing
" 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 claim by thofe their greatness, not by blood!
“ Nor shall this peace Neep with her; but as when.
" The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
“ Her ashes new create another heir,
“ As great in admiration as herfelf;
“ So sall the leave her blessedness to one,
“ (When Heav'n shall call her from this cloud of dark
* Who from the sacred ashes of her honour [ness, }
“ Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
“ And so Itand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terrorg
s That were the fervants to this chosen infant,
o Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
" Where-ever the bright sun of heav'n shall fhine,
« 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: childrens' children
w Shall see this, and bless heav'n.”
King. Thou speakest wonders.
Cran. She 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 faints must have her yet a virgin ;.
A moft unspotted lily shall she pass
Unto th’ ground, and all the world shall 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 so pleas'd me,
That when I am in heav'n, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise 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 presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, Lords;
Ye must all fee the Queen, and fe must thank ye,
She will be fick else. This day no man think,
H'as business at his house, for all fall stay;
This little one Ihall make it holiday.
'Tis ten to one, this play can never please
All that are here. Some come to take their ease,
And seep an act or two; but those we fear
We've frighted with our trumpets : so 'tis clear,
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 w'are like to hear
For this play at this time, is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
(For such a one we shew'd'em.) If they smile,
And say 'twill do, I know within a while
All the beft men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
If they hold when their ladies bid’em clap.
THE END OF THE FIFTH YOLUME.