CRANMER.
And let heaven
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.
KING.
Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart.
The common voice, I see, is verified
Of thee, which says thus: “Do my Lord of Canterbury
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.”
Come, lords, we trifle time away. I long
To 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 III. 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 Parish Garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.
ONE.
[Within.] Good master porter, I belong to th’ larder.
PORTER.
Belong to th’ 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?
PORTER’S 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 Paul’s as stir ’em.
PORTER.
How got they in, and be hanged?