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SCENE changes to the Palace. Enter Trumpets founding ; tben two Aldermen, Lord Mayor,

Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his Marshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen bearing great Aanding bowls for the chriftning gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Dutchess of Norfolk, god mother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c. Train born by a lady: then follows the Marchioness of Dorset, the other god-mother, and ladies. The troop pass once about the flage, and Garter speaks.

Gart. Heav'n, from thy endless goodness send long life, And ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, fair Elizabeth !

Flourish. Enter King and Guard. Cran. And to your royal Grace, and the good Queen, My noble partners and myself thus pray; All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, That heav'n e'er laid

up parents happy, May hourly fall upon ye!

King. Thank you, good lord Arch-bishop: What is her name?

Cran. Elizabeth.

King. Stand up, lord.
With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee,
Into whose hand I give thy life.

Cran. Amen.

King. My noble gossips, y'have been too prodigal,
I thank you heartily: so fhall this lady,
When she has so much English.

Cran. Let me speak, Sir;
(For Heav'n now bids me) and the words I utter,
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal Infant, (heaven ftill 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

to make

(But few or none living can behold that goodness)
A pattern to all Princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed. Sheba was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue,
Than this bleft foul shall be. All Princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall ftill be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her:
Holy and heav'nly thoughts still counsel her:
She Thall 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 forrow, Good grows with her.
In her days, ev'ry man fhall 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 claim by those their Greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her ; but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden Phænix,
Her alhes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself;
So ħall the leave her blessedness to one,
(When heav'n shall call her from this cloud of darkness)
Who from the facred ashes of her honour
Shall star like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And fo ftand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Love, Truth, Terrour,
That were the fervants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ;
Where-ever the bright sun of heav'n 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 : childrens' children
Shall see this, and bless heav'n.

King. Thou speakest wonders.

Cran. 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,

'Would, I had known no more! but she must die, (3-9)
She must, the Saints must have her yet a Virgin !
A moft unspotted lilly she shall pass
To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her,

King. O lord Arch-bishop,
Thou'st made me now a man; never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That when I am in heav'n, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my maker.
I thank ye all.---To you, my good Lord Mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholden (20)
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 fick else. This day no man think, H'as business at his house, for all shall stay ; This little one shall make it holy-day. [Exeunt.

(19) Would I bad known no more: but she must die,

Sbe' muft, tbe Saints must bave ber ; yet a Virgin,

A most unspotted Lilly, &c.) Thus the Editors hitherto, in their Sagacity, have pointed this Paflage, and destroy'd the true Sense of it. The first part of this Sentence is a Wish : The other Mould be a sorrowful Continuation of the Bishop's Prophecy. But, sure, Cranmer was too wise and pious a Man, too well acquainted with the State of Mortality, to make it a part of his Lamentation that this good Princess must one time or other go to Heaven. ' As I point it, the Poet makes a fine Compliment to his Royal Mistress's Memory, to lament that The must die without leaving an Heir of her Body behind her.

(20) And you good Bretbren,] But, the Aldermen never were call’d Brethren to the King. The Top of the Nobility are but Cousins and Counsellors. Dr. Tbirlby, therefore, rightly advised ;

And your good Brethreni. e, the Lord Mayor's Brethren ; which is properly their Style.

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efore

b;d Mart holden: : lence

'Tis ten to one, this Plag can never please

All that are here : fome come to take their eafen
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
We've frighted with our trumpets; fo 'tis clear,
They'll

say, it's naught. 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 conftru&tion of good

wom'n ;
(For such a one we fhew'd 'em) If they smile,
And say, 'twill do ; know within a while
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
If they bold, when their ladies bid 'em clap.

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The End of the Fifth Volumi.

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