Cran. Let me speak, sir ;

For Heaven now bids me: and the words I utter,
Let none think flattery, for they'll find them 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
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed.

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:

Our children's children

Shall see this, and bless Heaven.

King, Thou speakest wonders.

Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England, An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet 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.
King. O lord archbishop,

This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire

To see what this child does.-I thank you all.-
Lead the way, lords;-

-

Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank you,
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.

[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.-Exeunt.

THE END.

A COMEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS;

AS PERFORMED AT THE

THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN.

BY

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS

FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.

WITH REMARKS

BY MRS. INCHBALD.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW.