The Life of Henry the Eighth

GRIFFITHShe is asleep. Good wench, let's sit down quiet,For fear we wake her; softly, gentle Patience.

[The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head; at which the other four make reverent curtsies. Then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head; which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order; at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues.]

KATHERINESpirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone,And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?GRIFFITHMadam, we are here.KATHERINEIt is not you I call for.Saw ye none enter since I slept?GRIFFITHNone, madam.KATHERINENo? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troopInvite me to a banquet; whose bright facesCast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?They promis'd me eternal happiness,And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feelI am not worthy yet to wear. I shall, assuredly.GRIFFITHI am most joyful, madam, such good dreamsPossess your fancy.KATHERINEBid the music leave,They are harsh and heavy to me.

[Music ceases.]

PATIENCEDo you noteHow much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden?How long her face is drawn! How pale she looks,And of an earthly cold! Mark her eyes!GRIFFITHShe is going, wench. Pray, pray.PATIENCEHeaven comfort her!

[Enter a Messenger.]

MESSENGERAn't like your Grace, —KATHERINEYou are a saucy fellow.Deserve we no more reverence?GRIFFITHYou are to blame,Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,To use so rude behaviour. Go to, kneel.MESSENGERI humbly do entreat your Highness' pardon;My haste made me unmannerly. There is stayingA gentleman, sent from the King, to see you.KATHERINEAdmit him entrance, Griffith; but this fellowLet me ne'er see again.

[Exit Messenger.]

[Enter Capucius.]

If my sight fail not,You should be lord ambassador from the Emperor,My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.CAPUCIUSMadam, the same; your servant.KATHERINEO, my lord,The times and titles now are alter'd strangelyWith me since first you knew me. But, I pray you,What is your pleasure with me?CAPUCIUSNoble lady,First, mine own service to your Grace; the next,The King's request that I would visit you,Who grieves much for your weakness, and by meSends you his princely commendations,And heartily entreats you take good comfort.KATHERINEO my good lord, that comfort comes too late;'Tis like a pardon after execution.That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me;But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.How does his Highness?CAPUCIUSMadam, in good health.KATHERINESo may he ever do! and ever flourish,When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor nameBanish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter,I caused you write, yet sent away?PATIENCENo, madam.

[Giving it to Katherine.]

KATHERINESir, I most humbly pray you to deliverThis to my lord the King.CAPUCIUSMost willing, madam.KATHERINEIn which I have commended to his goodnessThe model of our chaste loves, his young daughter;The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding, —She is young, and of a noble modest nature,I hope she will deserve well, – and a littleTo love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petitionIs, that his noble Grace would have some pityUpon my wretched women, that so longHave follow'd both my fortunes faithfully;Of which there is not one, I dare avow,And now I should not lie, but will deserve,For virtue and true beauty of the soul,For honesty and decent carriage,A right good husband; let him be a noble;And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em.The last is, for my men, – they are the poorest,But poverty could never draw 'em from me —That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,And something over to remember me by.If Heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer lifeAnd able means, we had not parted thus.These are the whole contents; and, good my lord,By that you love the dearest in this world,As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the KingTo do me this last right.CAPUCIUSBy heaven, I will,Or let me lose the fashion of a man!KATHERINEI thank you, honest lord. Remember meIn all humility unto his Highness.Say his long trouble now is passingOut of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him,For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience,You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench,Let me be us'd with honour. Strew me overWith maiden flowers, that all the world may knowI was a chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me,Then lay me forth. Although unqueen'd, yet likeA queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.I can no more.

[Exeunt, leading Katherine.]

ACT FIFTH

SCENE I. A gallery in the palace

[Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a page with a torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.]

GARDINERIt's one o'clock, boy, is't not?PAGEIt hath struck.GARDINERThese should be hours for necessities,Not for delights; times to repair our natureWith comforting repose, and not for usTo waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas!Whither so late?LOVELLCame you from the King, my lord?GARDINERI did, Sir Thomas; and left him at primeroWith the Duke of Suffolk.LOVELLI must to him too,Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.GARDINERNot yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?It seems you are in haste. An if there beNo great offence belongs to't, give your friendSome touch of your late business. Affairs, that walk,As they say spirits do, at midnight, haveIn them a wilder nature than the businessThat seeks despatch by day.LOVELLMy lord, I love you;And durst commend a secret to your earMuch weightier than this work. The Queen's in labour,They say in great extremity; and fear'dShe'll with the labour end.GARDINERThe fruit she goes withI pray for heartily, that it may findGood time, and live; but for the stock, Sir Thomas,I wish it grubb'd up now.LOVELLMethinks I couldCry thee amen; and yet my conscience saysShe's a good creature, and, sweet lady, doesDeserve our better wishes.GARDINERBut, sir, sir,Hear me, Sir Thomas. You're a gentlemanOf mine own way; I know you wise, religious;And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me,Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,Sleep in their graves.LOVELLNow, sir, you speak of twoThe most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,Beside that of the jewel house, is made masterO' the rolls, and the King's secretary; further, sir,Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,With which the time will load him. The ArchbishopIs the King's hand and tongue; and who dare speakOne syllable against him?GARDINERYes, yes, Sir Thomas,There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'dTo speak my mind of him: and indeed this day,Sir, I may tell it you, I think I haveIncens'd the lords o' the council, that he is,For so I know he is, they know he is,A most arch heretic, a pestilenceThat does infect the land; with which they movedHave broken with the King, who hath so farGiven ear to our complaint, of his great graceAnd princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefsOur reasons laid before him, hath commandedTo-morrow morning to the council-boardHe be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,And we must root him out. From your affairsI hinder you too long. Good-night, Sir Thomas.LOVELLMany good-nights, my lord! I rest your servant.

[Exeunt Gardiner and Page.]

[Enter the King and Suffolk.]

KINGCharles, I will play no more to-night.My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me.SUFFOLKSir, I did never win of you before.KINGBut little, Charles;Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news?LOVELLI could not personally deliver to herWhat you commanded me, but by her womanI sent your message; who return'd her thanksIn the great'st humbleness, and desir'd your HighnessMost heartily to pray for her.KINGWhat say'st thou, ha?To pray for her? What, is she crying out?LOVELLSo said her woman; and that her suff'rance madeAlmost each pang a death.KINGAlas, good lady!SUFFOLKGod safely quit her of her burden, andWith gentle travail, to the gladding ofYour Highness with an heir!KING'Tis midnight, Charles;Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers rememberThe estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone;For I must think of that which companyWill not be friendly to.SUFFOLKI wish your HighnessA quiet night; and my good mistress willRemember in my prayers.KINGCharles, good-night.

[Exit Suffolk.]

[Enter Sir Anthony Denny.]

Well, sir, what follows?DENNYSir, I have brought my lord the Archbishop,As you commanded me.KINGHa! Canterbury?DENNYAy, my good lord.KING'Tis true; where is he, Denny?DENNYHe attends your Highness' pleasure.KINGBring him to us.

[Exit Denny.]

LOVELL[Aside.] This is about that which the bishop spake.I am happily come hither.

[Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer.]

KINGAvoid the gallery. [Lovell seems to stay.]Ha! I have said. Be gone.What!

[Exeunt Lovell and Denny.]

CRANMER[Aside.] I am fearful; wherefore frowns he thus?'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.KINGHow now, my lord! you do desire to knowWherefore I sent for you.CRANMER[Kneeling.] It is my dutyTo attend your Highness' pleasure.KINGPray you, arise,My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury.Come, you and I must walk a turn together;I have news to tell you. Come, come, me your hand.Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,And am right sorry to repeat what follows.I have, and most unwillingly, of lateHeard many grievous, I do say, my lord,Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd,Have mov'd us and our council, that you shallThis morning come before us; where, I know,You cannot with such freedom purge yourselfBut that, till further trial in those chargesWhich will require your answer, you must takeYour patience to you, and be well contentedTo make your house our Tower. You a brother of us,It fits we thus proceed, or else no witnessWould come against you.CRANMER[Kneeling.] I humbly thank your Highness;And am right glad to catch this good occasionMost throughly to be winnowed, where my chaffAnd corn shall fly asunder; for, I know,There's none stands under more calumnious tonguesThan I myself, poor man.KINGStand up, good Canterbury!Thy truth and thy integrity is rootedIn us, thy friend. Give me thy hand, stand up;Prithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidame,What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'dYou would have given me your petition, thatI should have ta'en some pains to bring togetherYourself and your accusers; and to have heard you,Without indurance, further.CRANMERMost dread liege,The good I stand on is my truth and honesty.If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies,Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not,Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothingWhat can be said against me.KINGKnow you notHow your state stands i' th' world, with the whole world?Your enemies are many, and not small; their practicesMust bear the same proportion; and not everThe justice and the truth o' the question carriesThe due o' the verdict with it. At what easeMight corrupt minds procure knaves as corruptTo swear against you? Such things have been done.You are potently oppos'd, and with a maliceOf as great size. Ween you of better luck,I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your Master,Whose minister you are, whiles here He liv'dUpon this naughty earth? Go to, go to!You take a precipice for no leap of danger,And woo your own destruction.CRANMERGod and your MajestyProtect mine innocence, or I fall intoThe trap is laid for me!KINGBe of good cheer;They shall no more prevail than we give way to.Keep comfort to you; and this morning seeYou do appear before them. If they shall chance,In charging you with matters, to commit you,The best persuasions to the contraryFail not to use, and with what vehemencyThe occasion shall instruct you. If entreatiesWill render you no remedy, this ringDeliver them, and your appeal to usThere make before them. Look, the good man weeps!He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother!I swear he is true-hearted; and a soulNone better in my kingdom. Get you gone,And do as I have bid you.

[Exit Cranmer.]

He has strangled his language in his tears.

[Enter Old Lady, Lovell following.]

GENTLEMAN[Within.] Come back! What mean you?OLD LADYI'll not come back; the tidings that I bringWill make my boldness manners. Now, good angelsFly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy personUnder their blessed wings!KINGNow, by thy looksI guess thy message. Is the Queen deliver'd?Say ay; and of a boy.OLD LADYAy, ay, my liege;And of a lovely boy. The God of HeavenBoth now and ever bless her! 'tis a girl,Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queenDesires your visitation, and to beAcquainted with this stranger. 'Tis as like youAs cherry is to cherry.KINGLovell!LOVELLSir?KINGGive her an hundred marks. I'll to the Queen.

[Exit.]

OLD LADYAn hundred marks! By this light, I'll ha' more.An ordinary groom is for such payment.I will have more, or scold it out of him.Said I for this, the girl was like to him?I will have more, or else unsay't; and now,While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. Lobby before the council-chamber

[Pursuivants, Pages, etc., attending. Enter Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury.]

CRANMERI hope I am not too late; and yet the gentleman,That was sent to me from the council, pray'd meTo make great haste. All fast? what means this? Ho!Who waits there? Sure, you know me?

[Enter Keeper.]

KEEPERYes, my lord;But yet I cannot help you.CRANMERWhy?KEEPERYour Grace must wait till you be call'd for.

[Enter Doctor Butts.]

CRANMERSo.BUTTS[Aside.] This is a piece of malice. I am gladI came this way so happily; the KingShall understand it presently.

[Exit.]

CRANMER[Aside.] 'Tis Butts,The King's physician. As he pass'd along,How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!Pray Heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain,This is of purpose laid by some that hate me —God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice —To quench mine honour; they would shame to make meWait else at door, a fellow-counsellor,'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasuresMust be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

[Enter the King and Butts, at a window above.]

BUTTSI'll show your Grace the strangest sight —KINGWhat's that, Butts?BUTTSI think your Highness saw this many a day.KINGBody o' me, where is it?BUTTSThere, my lord,The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury;Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants,Pages, and footboys.KINGHa! 'tis he, indeed.Is this the honour they do one another?'Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thoughtThey had parted so much honesty among 'em,At least, good manners, as not thus to sufferA man of his place, and so near our favour,To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures,And at the door too, like a post with packets.By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery.Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close;We shall hear more anon.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. The council-chamber

[A council-table brought in with chairs and stools, and placed under the state. Enter Lord Chancellor; places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand, a seat being left void above him, as for Canterbury's seat. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, seat themselves in order on each side. Cromwell at lower end, as secretary. Keeper at the door.]

CHANCELLORSpeak to the business, master secretary.Why are we met in council?CROMWELLPlease your honours,The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury.GARDINERHas he had knowledge of it?CROMWELLYes.NORFOLKWho waits there?KEEPERWithout, my noble lords?GARDINERYes.KEEPERMy Lord Archbishop;And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.CHANCELLORLet him come in.KEEPER. Your Grace may enter now.

[Cranmer approaches the council-table.]

CHANCELLORMy good Lord Archbishop, I'm very sorryTo sit here at this present, and beholdThat chair stand empty; but we all are men,In our own natures frail, and capableOf our flesh; few are angels: out of which frailtyAnd want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,Toward the King first, then his laws, in fillingThe whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains,For so we are inform'd, with new opinionsDivers and dangerous, which are heresiesAnd, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.GARDINERWhich reformation must be sudden too,My noble lords; for those that tame wild horsesPace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,But stop their mouth with stubborn bits and spur 'emTill they obey the manage. If we suffer,Out of our easiness and childish pityTo one man's honour, this contagious sickness,Farewell all physic! And what follows then?Commotions, uproars, with a general taintOf the whole state; as, of late days, our neighbours,The upper Germany, can dearly witness,Yet freshly pitied in our memories.CRANMERMy good lords, hitherto in all the progressBoth of my life and office, I have labour'd,And with no little study, that my teachingAnd the strong course of my authorityMight go one way, and safely; and the endWas ever, to do well; nor is there living,I speak it with a single heart, my lords,A man that more detests, more stirs against,Both in his private conscience and his place,Defacers of a public peace, than I do.Pray Heaven, the King may never find a heartWith less allegiance in it! Men that makeEnvy and crooked malice nourishmentDare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,That, in this case of justice, my accusers,Be what they will, may stand forth face to faceAnd freely urge against me.SUFFOLKNay, my lord,That cannot be. You are a counsellor,And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.GARDINERMy lord, because we have business of more moment,We will be short with you. 'Tis his Highness' pleasureAnd our consent, for better trial of you,From hence you be committed to the Tower;Where, being but a private man again,You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,More than, I fear, you are provided for.CRANMERAh, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you.You are always my good friend; if your will pass,I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,You are so merciful. I see your end;'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, lord,Become a churchman better than ambition.Win straying souls with modesty again,Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,I make as little doubt as you do conscienceIn doing daily wrongs. I could say more,But reverence to your calling makes me modest.GARDINERMy lord, my lord, you are a sectary,That's the plain truth. Your painted gloss discovers,To men that understand you, words and weakness.CROMWELLMy Lord of Winchester, you are a little,By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,However faulty, yet should find respectFor what they have been. 'Tis a crueltyTo load a falling man.GARDINERGood master secretary,I cry your honour mercy. You may, worstOf all this table, say so.CROMWELLWhy, my lord?GARDINERDo not I know you for a favourerOf this new sect? Ye are not sound.CROMWELLNot sound?GARDINERNot sound, I say.CROMWELLWould you were half so honest!Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.GARDINERI shall remember this bold language.CROMWELLDo.Remember your bold life too.CHANCELLORThis is too much.Forbear, for shame, my lords.GARDINERI have done.CROMWELLAnd I.CHANCELLORThen thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed,I take it, by all voices, that forthwithYou be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner;There to remain till the King's further pleasureBe known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?ALLWe are.CRANMERIs there no other way of mercy,But I must needs to the Tower, my lords?GARDINERWhat otherWould you expect? You are strangely troublesome.Let some o' the guard be ready there.

[Enter the guard.]

CRANMERFor me?Must I go like a traitor thither?GARDINERReceive him,And see him safe i' the Tower.CRANMERStay, good my lords,I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords;By virtue of that ring, I take my causeOut of the gripes of cruel men, and give itTo a most noble judge, the King my master.CHAMBERLAINThis is the King's ring.SURREY'Tis no counterfeit.SUFFOLK'Tis the right ring, by heaven! I told ye all,When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling,'Twould fall upon ourselves.NORFOLKDo you think, my lords,The King will suffer but the little fingerOf this man to be vex'd?CHAMBERLAIN'Tis now too certain.How much more is his life in value with him?Would I were fairly out on't!CROMWELLMy mind gave me,In seeking tales and informationsAgainst this man, whose honesty the devilAnd his disciples only envy at,Ye blew the fire that burns ye. Now have at ye!

[Enter King, frowning on them; takes his seat.]

GARDINERDread sovereign, how much are we bound to HeavenIn daily thanks, that gave us such a prince;Not only good and wise, but most religious;One that, in all obedience, makes the ChurchThe chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthenThat holy duty, out of dear respect,His royal self in judgement comes to hearThe cause betwixt her and this great offender.KINGYou were ever good at sudden commendations,Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come notTo hear such flattery now, and in my presence;They are too thin and bare to hide offences.To me you cannot reach you play the spaniel,And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sureThou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.[To Cranmer.] Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudestHe, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee:By all that's holy, he had better starveThan but once think this place becomes thee not.SURREYMay it please your Grace, —KINGNo, sir, it does not please me.I had thought I had had men of some understandingAnd wisdom of my council; but I find none.Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,This good man, – few of you deserve that title, —This honest man, wait like a lousy footboyAt chamber-door? and one as great as you are?Why, what a shame was this! Did my commissionBid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave yePower as he was a councillor to try him, —Not as a groom. There's some of ye, I see,More out of malice than integrity,Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean;Which ye shall never have while I live.CHANCELLORThus far,My most dread sovereign, may it like your GraceTo let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'dConcerning his imprisonment was rather,If there be faith in men, meant for his trialAnd fair purgation to the world, than malice,I'm sure, in me.KINGWell, well, my lords, respect him;Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it.I will say thus much for him, if a princeMay be beholding to a subject, IAm, for his love and service, so to him.Make me no more ado, but all embrace him.Be friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of Canterbury,I have a suit which you must not deny me;That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,You must be godfather, and answer for her.CRANMERThe greatest monarch now alive may gloryIn such an honour; how may I deserve it,That am a poor and humble subject to you?KING. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons. You shall have two noble partners with you, the old Duchess of Norfolk and Lady Marquess Dorset. Will these please you? Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, embrace and love this man.GARDINERWith a true heartAnd brother-love I do it.CRANMERAnd let HeavenWitness how dear I hold this confirmation.KINGGood man, those joyful tears show thy true heart.The common voice, I see, is verifiedOf thee, which says thus, "Do my Lord of CanterburyA shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever."Come, lords, we trifle time away; I longTo have this young one made a Christian.As I have made ye one, lords, one remain;So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. The palace yard

[Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man.]

PORTER. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals; do you take the court for Paris-garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.VOICE[Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the larder.PORTER. Belong to the gallows, and be hang'd, ye rogue! Is this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em. I'll scratch your heads. You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?MANPray, sir, be patient. 'Tis as much impossible —Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons —To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepOn May-day morning; which will never be.We may as well push against Paul's, as stir 'em.PORTERHow got they in, and be hang'd?MANAlas, I know not: how gets the tide in?As much as one sound cudgel of four foot —You see the poor remainder – could distribute,I made no spare, sir.PORTERYou did nothing, sir.MANI am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,To mow 'em down before me; but if I spar'd anyThat had a head to hit, either young or old,He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again;And that I would not for a cow, God save her!VOICE[Within.] Do you hear, master porter?PORTERI shall be with you presently, good master puppy. —Keep the door close, sirrah.MANWhat would you have me do?PORTER. What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? Or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together.MAN. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: that fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman; who cried out "Clubs!" when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o' the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff to me; I defied 'em still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, deliver'd such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work. The devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely.PORTER. 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 limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come.

[Enter Lord Chamberlain.]