Henry The Eighth (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Scena Quarta.
¶
Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L. Maior,
3355Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals
¶Staffe, Duke of Suffolke, two Noblemen, bearing great
¶Norfolke, Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in
3360a Mantle, &c. Traine borne by a Lady: Then followes
¶ter speakes.
¶Gart. Heauen
¶Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty
¶
Flourish. Enter King and Guard.
¶Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen,
3370My 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.
3375What is her Name?
¶Cran. Elizabeth.
¶Kin. Stand vp Lord,
¶Into whose hand, I giue thy Life.
3380Cran. Amen.
¶I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady,
3385For 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
¶A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her,
¶More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue
3395Then 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,
¶Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne,
¶And hang their heads with sorrow:
¶Good growes with her.
3405Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and sing
¶The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
¶From her shall read the perfect way of Honour,
¶The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix,
¶Her Ashes new create another Heyre,
¶As great in admiration as her selfe.
3415(When Heauen shal call her from this clowd of darknes)
¶That were the Seruants to this chosen Infant,
3420Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;
¶And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches,
3425To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children
3430And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it.
¶To th'ground, and all the World shall mourne her.
¶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,
¶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,
¶She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke
¶This Little-One shall make it Holy-day.
Exeunt.
