William Shakespeare's The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth in the complete original text.
William Shakespeare's plays, sonnets and poems at AbsoluteShakespeare.com
Home Plays Sonnets Poems Quotes Summaries Essays Glossary Links Help

HOME > Plays > King Henry the Eighth > Act V. Scene V.

The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth

Study Guides
Hamlet
Julius Caesar
King Henry IV
King Lear
Macbeth
Merchant of Venice
Othello
Romeo and Juliet
The Tempest
Twelfth Night

Trivia
Authorship
Bard Facts
Bibliography
Biography
FAQ
Films
Globe Theatre
Pictures
Quiz
Timeline

Act V. Scene V.

Scene V.—The Palace.

Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen,
Lord Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, DUKE OF
NORFOLK, with his marshal's staff, DUKE
OF SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great
standing-bowls for the christening gifts; then,
four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which
the DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, godmother,
bearing the child, richly habited in a mantle, &c.,
train borne by a Lady; then follows the MAR-
CHIONESS OF DORSET, the other
godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once
and Garter speaks.

Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness,
send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to
the high and mighty Princess of England, Eliza-
beth!

Flourish. Enter KING and Train.
Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal Grace,
and the good queen,
My noble partners, and myself, thus pray:
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye!
K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop:
What is her name?
Cran. Elizabeth.
K. Hen. Stand up, lord.
[The KING kisses the Child.
With this kiss take my blessing; God protect
thee!
Into whose hand I give thy life.
Cran. Amen.
K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too
prodigal:
I thank ye heartily: so shall this lady
When she has so much English.
Cran. Let me speak, sir.
For heaven now bids me; and the words I
utter
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em
truth.
This royal infant—heaven still move about
her!—
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings
Which time shall bring to ripeness: she shall
be—
But few now living can behold that goodness—
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed: Saba was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece atf-this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall, still be doubled on her; truth shall nurse
her;
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her;
She shall be lov'd and fear'd; her own shall bless
her;
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow; good grows
with her.
In her days every man shall eat in safety
Under his own vine what he plants; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by
blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes nevv-create another heir
As great in admiration as herself,
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,—
When heaven shall call her from this cloud of
darkness,—
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth,
terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him:
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations; he shall flou-
rish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him; our children's chil-
dren
Shall see this, and bless heaven, a
K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders.
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of Eng-
land,
An aged princess; many days shall see her,
And vet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would I had known no more! but she must die,
She must, the saints must have her, yet a virgin;
A most unspotted lily shall she pass;
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
K. Hen. O lord archbishop!
Thou hast made me now a man: never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has so pleased me,
That when I am in heaven, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my!
Maker.
I thank ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholding;
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way,
lords:
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank
ye;
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
He has business at his house; for all shall stay:
This little one shall make it holiday. Exeunt.
< PREVIOUS
Copyright © 2000-2005 AbsoluteShakespeare.com. All rights reserved.  Contact Us  Privacy  Awards