Chapter: Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.

Port. You'l leaue your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe
you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaues,
    leaue your gaping

    Within. Good M[aster]. Porter I belong to th' Larder

    Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue:
    Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree
    staues, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em:
    Ile scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christenings?
    Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude
    Raskalls?
    Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible,
    Vnlesse wee sweepe 'em from the dore with Cannons,
    To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe
    On May-day Morning, which will neuer be:
    We may as well push against Powles as stirre 'em

    Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?
    Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in?
    As much as one sound Cudgell of foure foote,
    (You see the poore remainder) could distribute,
    I made no spare Sir

    Port. You did nothing Sir

    Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand,
    To mow 'em downe before me: but if I spar'd any
    That had a head to hit, either young or old,
    He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker:
    Let me ne're hope to see a Chine againe,
    And that I would not for a Cow, God saue her

    Within. Do you heare M[aster]. Porter?
    Port. I shall be with you presently, good M[aster]. Puppy,
    Keepe the dore close Sirha

    Man. What would you haue me doe?
    Por. What should you doe,
    But knock 'em downe by th' dozens? Is this More fields
    to muster in? Or haue wee some strange Indian with the
    great Toole, come to Court, the women so besiege vs?
    Bless me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore? On my
    Christian Conscience this one Christening will beget a
    thousand, here will bee Father, God-father, and all together

    Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir: There is
    a fellow somewhat neere the doore, he should be a Brasier
    by his face, for o' my conscience twenty of the Dogdayes
    now reigne in's Nose; all that stand about him are
    vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that FireDrake
    did I hit three times on the head, and three times
    was his Nose discharged against mee; hee stands there
    like a Morter-piece to blow vs. There was a Habberdashers
    Wife of small wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me,
    till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head, for kindling
    such a combustion in the State. I mist the Meteor once,
    and hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I
    might see from farre, some forty Truncheoners draw to
    her succour, which were the hope o'th' Strond where she
    was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at
    length they came to th' broome staffe to me, I defide 'em
    stil, when sodainly a File of Boyes behind 'em, loose shot,
    deliuer'd such a showre of Pibbles, that I was faine to
    draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Worke, the
    Diuell was amongst 'em I thinke surely

    Por. These are the youths that thunder at a Playhouse,
    and fight for bitten Apples, that no Audience but the
    tribulation of Tower Hill, or the Limbes of Limehouse,
    their deare Brothers are able to endure. I haue some of
    'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance
    these three dayes; besides the running Banquet of two
    Beadles, that is to come.
    Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

    Cham. Mercy o' me: what a Multitude are heere?
    They grow still too; from all Parts they are comming,
    As if we kept a Faire heere? Where are these Porters?
    These lazy knaues? Y'haue made a fine hand fellowes?
    Theres a trim rabble let in: are all these
    Your faithfull friends o'th' Suburbs? We shall haue
    Great store of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies,
    When they passe backe from the Christening?
    Por. And't please your Honour,
    We are but men; and what so many may doe,
    Not being torne a pieces, we haue done:
    An Army cannot rule 'em

    Cham. As I liue,
    If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all
    By th' heeles, and sodainly: and on your heads
    Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues,
    And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when
    Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets sound,
    Th'are come already from the Christening,
    Go breake among the preasse, and finde away out
    To let the Troope passe fairely; or Ile finde
    A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Monthes

    Por. Make way there, for the Princesse

    Man. You great fellow,
    Stand close vp, or Ile make your head ake

    Por. You i'th' Chamblet, get vp o'th' raile,
    Ile pecke you o're the pales else.

    Exeunt.


Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior,
      Garter,
      Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of
      Suffolke, two
      Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening
      Guifts: Then
      foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse of
      Norfolke,
      Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c.
      Traine borne
      by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other
      Godmother, and
      Ladies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Garter
      speakes.

      Gart. Heauen
      From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life,
      Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty
      Princesse of England Elizabeth.

      Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

      Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen,
      My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus pray
      All comfort, ioy in this most gracious Lady,
      Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy,
      May hourely fall vpon ye

      Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop:
      What is her Name?
      Cran. Elizabeth

      Kin. Stand vp Lord,
      With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee,
      Into whose hand, I giue thy Life

      Cran. Amen

      Kin. My Noble Gossips, y'haue beene too Prodigall;
      I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady,
      When she ha's so much English

      Cran. Let me speake Sir,
      For Heauen now bids me; and the words I vtter,
      Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth.
      This Royall Infant, Heauen still moue about her;
      Though in her Cradle; yet now promises
      Vpon this Land a thousand thousand Blessings,
      Which Time shall bring to ripenesse: She shall be,
      (But few now liuing can behold that goodnesse)
    A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her,
    And all that shall succeed: Saba was neuer
    More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue
    Then this pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces
    That mould vp such a mighty Piece as this is,
    With all the Vertues that attend the good,
    Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her,
    Holy and Heauenly thoughts still Counsell her:
    She shall be lou'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her;
    Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne,
    And hang their heads with sorrow:
    Good growes with her.
    In her dayes, Euery Man shall eate in safety,
    Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and sing
    The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
    God shall be truely knowne, and those about her,
    From her shall read the perfect way of Honour,
    And by those claime their greatnesse; not by Blood.
    Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when
    The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix,
    Her Ashes new create another Heyre,
    As great in admiration as her selfe.
    So shall she leaue her Blessednesse to One,
    (When Heauen shal call her from this clowd of darknes)
    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, Loue, Truth, Terror,
    That were the Seruants to this chosen Infant,
    Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;
Where euer the bright Sunne of Heauen shall shine,
      His Honour, and the greatnesse of his Name,
      Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourish,
      And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches,
      To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children
      Shall see this, and blesse Heauen

      Kin. Thou speakest wonders

      Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England,
      An aged Princesse; many dayes shall see her,
      And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it.
      Would I had knowne no more: But she must dye,
      She must, the Saints must haue her; yet a Virgin,
      A most vnspotted Lilly shall she passe
      To th' ground, and all the World shall mourne her

      Kin. O Lord Archbishop
      Thou hast made me now a man, neuer before
      This happy Child, did I get any thing.
      This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me,
      That when I am in Heauen, I shall desire

      To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker.
      I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior,
      And you good Brethren, I am much beholding:
      I haue receiu'd much Honour by your presence,
      And ye shall find me thankfull. Lead the way Lords,
      Ye must all see the Queene, and she must thanke ye,
      She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke
      'Has businesse at his house; for all shall stay:
      This Little-One shall make it Holy-day.

      Exeunt.

      THE EPILOGVE. Tis ten to one, this Play can neuer please
      All that are heere: Some come to take their ease,
      And sleepe an Act or two; but those we feare
      W'haue frighted with our Trumpets: so 'tis cleare,
      They'l say tis naught. Others to heare the City
      Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty,
      Which wee haue not done neither; that I feare
      All the expected good w'are like to heare.
      For this Play at this time, is onely in
      The mercifull construction of good women,
      For such a one we shew'd 'em: If they smile,
      And say twill doe; I know within a while,
      All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
      If they hold, when their Ladies bid 'em clap.

 A porter and a large group of men enter the scene. The crowd has arrived to see Elizabeth's christening. One man and the porter converse about how to keep the rabble from blocking the entrance to the palace yard. The porter thinks the crowd is made up of the same louts who go to public executions or who cheer loudest at the playhouse. The Lord Chamberlain enters and yells at the porter for letting the crowd block so much space, for soon royal ladies will need to pass. Lord Chamberlain suspects that the crowd is made up of folks from the suburbs, and he tells the porter to take care of them. Finally, the royals arrive, and the porter shouts to the crowd to make way. Cranmer, Norfolk, Suffolk, and other noblemen enter the scene, with the child Elizabeth. Then, Henry enters. Cranmer baptizes Elizabeth and makes a speech about her future greatness. He says the infant holds great promise for England, and few now can imagine the great things she shall accomplish. She will know truth, she will be loved and feared, and she will be a great ruler. When she dies, she will be reborn like a phoenix in her heir, and all her good attributes will carry on in the next ruler. The king is amazed at the wonders of which Cranmer speaks. Cranmer goes on to announce that Elizabeth will bring happiness to England, and when she dies a virgin, the world will mourn her. Henry is pleased with Cranmer's words and says that with this child he finally feels he has accomplished something great. He looks forward to seeing what she will do from his future post in heaven. The character of the Epilogue enters, saying it is likely that the play did not please its audience. Some may have come to doze for a few acts but were woken by the trumpets. Others came to hear the court made fun of but were disappointed. The only praise the Epilogue anticipates must come from good women, who will have been pleased with the portrayal of one in Katharine. And, if the ladies clap, then their men must surely follow.

