ACT V. SCENE 5.

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

  GARTER. 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 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!
  KING. Thank you, good Lord Archbishop.
    What is her name?
  CRANMER. Elizabeth.
  KING. Stand up, lord.                   [The KING kisses the
child]
    With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!
    Into whose hand I give thy life.
  CRANMER. Amen.
  KING. My noble gossips, y'have been too prodigal;
    I thank ye heartily. So shall this lady,
    When she has so much English.
  CRANMER. Let me speak, sir,
    For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
    Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
    This royal infant-heaven still move about her!-  
    Though in her cradle, yet now promises
    Upon this land a 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 never
    More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
    Than 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 sing
    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 by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
    Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when
    The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix
    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,
    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 name
    Shall be, and make new nations; he shall flourish,
    And like a mountain cedar reach his branches
    To all the plains about him; our children's children
    Shall see this and bless heaven.
  KING. Thou speakest wonders.
  CRANMER. 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 saints must have her-yet a virgin;
    A most unspotted lily shall she pass
    To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
  KING. O Lord Archbishop,
    Thou hast made me now a man; never before
    This happy child did I get anything.
    This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me
    That when I am in heaven I shall desire
    To 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 think
    Has business at his house; for all shall stay.
    This little one shall make it holiday.                    
Exeunt

KING_HENRY_VIII|EPILOGUE
              THE EPILOGUE.

    'Tis ten to one this play can never please
    All that are here. Some come to take their ease
    And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
    W'have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear,
    They'll say 'tis nought; 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 show'd 'em. If they smile
    And say 'twill do, I know within a while
    All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap
    If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.

THE END





<>




End of this Etext of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH