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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,
K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop;
K. Hen. Stand up, lord.
[The KING kisses the child.
With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!
K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal:
When she has so much English.
Cran. Let me speak, Sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her:
She shall be loved 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:
This and the following seventeen lines were probably written by Bea
Jonson, after the accession of King James.
Her ashes new create another heir,
As 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 honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish,
To all the plains about him:Our children's children
K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders.]
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England,
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
Thou hast made me now a man; never, before
This oracle of comfort has so pleased me,
That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.-
And your good brethren, I am much beholden;
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords;-
'Tis ten to one, this play can never please
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
PRIAM, King of Troy.
PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, his Sons.
ENEAS, ANTENOR, Trojan Com-
CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking
AGAMEMNON, theGrecian General.
THERSITES, a deformed and scur-
ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida.
HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.
CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.
Trojan and Greek SOLDIERS, and
SCENE.-Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it.
IN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
With wanton Paris sleeps; And that's the quarrel.
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
* Orgueilleux-proud, disdainful.
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
Leaps o'er the vaunt* and firstlings of those broils,
Like, or find fault; do as your pleasures are;
SCENE I-Troy. Before PRIAM'S Palace.
Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fondert than ignorance;
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractised infancy.
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry the grinding.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting.
Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening.
Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in the word-hereafter, the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips.
Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
Doth lesser blench § at sufferance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit;
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,
So, traitor!-when she comes!When is she thence? Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
Avant, what went before.
+ Servant to a knight.
Tro. I was about to tell thee,-When my heart,
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
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 Cassan-, dra's wit; but
Tro. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,
When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd,
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;
Writing their own reproach; To whose soft seizure
Hard as the palm of ploughmen! This thou tell'st me,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
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 labour for my travel; ill-thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you: gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour.
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 or 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 nor make no more in the matter.
Pan. Not I.
Tro. Sweet Pandarus,