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King Henry VIII: Act 5 Scene 4

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.

[Within]

Good master porter, I belong to the larder.

PORTER

Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, 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?

MAN

Pray, sir, be patient: 'tis as much impossible--

Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons--

To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep

On May-day morning; which will never be:

We may as well push against Powle's, as stir em.

PORTER

How got they in, and be hang'd?

MAN

Alas, 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.

PORTER

You did nothing, sir.

MAN

I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,

To mow 'em down before me: but if I spared any

That 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!

[Within]

Do you hear, master porter?

PORTER

I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.

Keep the door close, sirrah.

MAN

What 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 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.

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 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.

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.

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.

PORTER

Make way there for the princess.

MAN

You great fellow,

Stand close up, 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.

[Exeunt]