The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (319 page)

Keep the door closed, sir.

Man

What would you have me do?

What do you want me to 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.

What should you do, but knock them down by the

dozen? Is this Moorfield for them to gather in its? Or have

we got some big strapping Indian brought to the

court, so that the women are desperate to get in? Good heavens,

what a great mess of spawn is at the door! I swear

by my faith, this christening will create a

thousand others; all the godfathers will become fathers, altogether.

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 railed upon me till her pinked

porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a

combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once,

and hit that woman; who cried out 'Clubs!' when I

might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to

her succor, 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 broom-staff to

me; I defied 'em still: when suddenly a file of

boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered 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.

There will be more christening spoons, Sir: there is a fellow

rather close to the door, he's a brass smith by

the look of him,

for I swear that he looks as if he's been out burning in the sun;

all the ones who stand around him are

below him, they need no other punishment: that

firebrand I hit three times on the head, and three

times he blew his nose at me; he's standing there

like a mortar to blow us down. There was a

silly haberdasher's wife standing near him, who shrieked

at me until her pink cap fell off her head, which started such a commotion. I missed the fellow

once, and hit that woman, who cried out

‘Clubs’, and I saw far off some forty apprentices

draw their clubs to help her, they were all from

the Strand where she has her shop; they attacked,

I defended my place well; eventually they came to

close quarters, I still resisted them, when suddenly a

group of boys behind them, skirmishers, threw such a

shower of pebbles, that I had to withdraw

and let them capture the Castle; I think the devil was

helping them.

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.

These are the youths that roar at the Playhouse,

and fight for half eaten apples; nobody but

the crowds at the executions or the residents of

Limehouse, their dear brothers, can tolerate them.

I've put some of them in limbo, and they should stay there

for the next three days; and after that they'll get

a whipping from the beadles.

Enter Chamberlain

Chamberlain

Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here!

They grow still too; from all parts they are coming,

As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters,

These lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand, fellows:

There's a trim rabble let in: are all these

Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have

Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,

When they pass back from the christening.

Dear me, what a crowd there is!

They're still growing; they're coming from all quarters,

as if there was a fair here! Where are those porters,

those lazy scoundrels? You've made a great job of this, fellows:

you've let a great crowd in: are all these

your great friends from the suburbs? We shall have

plenty of room left, doubtless, for the ladies,

when they come back from the christening.

Porter

An't please

your honour,

We are but men; and what so many may do,

Not being torn a-pieces, we have done:

An army cannot rule 'em.

If you'll excuse us, your honour,

we are only men; and what our number could do,

without being torn to pieces, we have done:

an army can't rule them.

Chamberlain

As I live,

If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all

By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads

Clap round fines for neglect: ye are lazy knaves;

And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when

Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;

They're come already from the christening:

Go, break among the press, and find a way out

To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find

A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.

I swear on my life,

if the King makes me pay for it, I'll have you all

in the stocks, at once; and I'll impose heavy fines

on you for neglect of duty: you lazy scoundrels;

you're sitting here teasing drunkards when

you should be driving them out. Listen! The trumpets sound;

they are already coming from the christening:

go, break through the crowd and find a way

to let the parade go through peacefully; otherwise

you will find yourselves in the Marshalsea prison

for the next two months.

Porter

Make way there for the princess.

Make way there for the Princess.

Man

You great fellow,

Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache.

You great fellow,

Move aside, or I'll make your head ache.

Porter

You i' the camlet, get up o' the rail;

I'll peck you o'er the pales else.

You in the posh coat, get up on the rail;

if you don't I'll chuck you over the fence.

Exeunt

Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, NORFOLK with his marshal's staff, 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, & c., 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!

Heaven, with your endless goodness, give the

high and mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth,

a prosperous, long and always happy life!

Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VIII 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!

And for your royal grace, and the good Queen,

my noble partners and myself pray for you that

you will have all comfort and joy in the most gracious lady

Heaven ever sent to make parents happy,

may it come to you every hour!

KING HENRY VIII

Thank you, good lord archbishop:

What is her name?

Thank you, good Lord Archbishop:

what is her name?

CRANMER

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth.

KING HENRY VIII

Stand up, lord.

Stand up, Lord.

KING HENRY VIII kisses the child

With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee!

Into whose hand I give thy life.

Take my blessing with this kiss: may God protect you!

I put his life in your hands.

CRANMER

Amen.

Amen.

KING HENRY VIII

My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal:

I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady,

When she has so much English.

My noble godparents, you have been too generous:

I give you my hearty thanks;  so shall this lady,

when she has learned to talk.

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 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,