Act V · Scene IV
The palace yard.
Hover a speech to translate it — or press play to hear it performed.
Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man
Porter
You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: do youtake the court for Paris-garden? ye rude slaves,leave your gaping.
Within
Porter
Good master porter, I belong to the larder.
Porter
Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! isthis a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-treestaves, and strong ones: these are but switches to'em. I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeingchristenings? 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 sleepOn 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 anyThat 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 againAnd that I would not for a cow, God save her!
Within
Man
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 thedozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or havewe some strange Indian with the great tool come tocourt, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what afry of fornication is at door! On my Christianconscience, this one christening will beget athousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together.
Man
The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is afellow somewhat near the door, he should be abrazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twentyof the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that standabout him are under the line, they need no otherpenance: that fire-drake did I hit three times onthe head, and three times was his nose dischargedagainst me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, toblow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of smallwit near him, that railed upon me till her pinkedporringer fell off her head, for kindling such acombustion in the state. I missed the meteor once,and hit that woman; who cried out 'Clubs!' when Imight see from far some forty truncheoners draw toher succor, which were the hope o' the Strand, whereshe was quartered. They fell on; I made good myplace: at length they came to the broom-staff tome; I defied 'em still: when suddenly a file ofboys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a showerof 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, butthe tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs ofLimehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure.I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there theyare like to dance these three days; besides therunning 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 theseYour faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall haveGreat store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,When they pass back from the christening.
Porter
An't pleaseyour 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 allBy the heels, and suddenly; and on your headsClap round fines for neglect: ye are lazy knaves;And here ye lie baiting of bombards, whenYe should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound;They're come already from the christening:Go, break among the press, and find a way outTo let the troop pass fairly; or I'll findA 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