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King Henry VIII
act v   Scene 4.
William Shakespeare
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       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 th' larder.]
       PORTER
       Belong to th' gallows, and be hang'd, 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 Paul'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 spar'd 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 th'
       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
       rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head,
       for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the
       meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out 'Clubs!'
       when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw
       to her succour, which were the hope o' th' Strand, where
       she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place.
       At length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I defied 'em
       still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot,
       deliver'd such a show'r 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 the LORD 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? Y'have made a fine hand, fellows.
       There's a trim rabble let in: are all these
       Your faithful friends o' th' 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 an
       By th' heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
       Clap round fines for neglect. Y'are lazy knaves;
       And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when
       Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;
       Th' are come already from the christening.
       Go break among the press and find a way out
       To let the troops 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' th' camlet, get up o' th' rail;
       I'll peck you o'er the pales else.
       Exeunt
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本书目录

Dramatis Personae
Prologue.
act i
   Scene 1.
   Scene 2.
   Scene 3.
   Scene 4.
act ii
   Scene 1.
   Scene 2.
   Scene 3.
   Scene 4.
act iii
   Scene 1.
   Scene 2.
act iv
   Scene 1.
   Scene 2.
act v
   Scene 1.
   Scene 2.
   Scene 3.
   Scene 4.
   Scene 5.
Epilogue