ALL IS TRUE (HENRY VIII)

Act 5 Scene 3

(Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter with rushes and his man with a broken cudgel)
l1l	Porter	(to those within)
		 You’ll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you take
l2l		The court for Paris Garden, ye rude slaves?
l3l		Leave your gaping.
l4l	One	(within)
		 Good master porter, I belong to th’ larder.
l5l	Porter	Belong to th’ gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue!
l6l		Is this a place to roar in?
l7l		(To his man)
		 Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones,
l8l		(Raising his rushes)
		 These are but switches to ’em.
		(To those within)
		 I’ll scratch your heads.
l9l		You must be seeing christenings? Do you look
l10l		For ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?
l11l	Man	Pray, sir, be patient. ’Tis as much impossible,
l12l		Unless we sweep ’em from the door with cannons,
l13l		To scatter ’em as ’tis to make ’em sleep
l14l		On May-day morning—which will never be.
l15l		We may as well push against Paul’s as stir ’em.
l16l	Porter	How got they in, and be hanged?
l17l	Man	Alas, I know not. How gets the tide in?
l18l		As much as one sound cudgel of four foot—
		(He raises his cudgel)
l19l		You see the poor remainder—could distribute,
l20l		I made no spare, sir.
	Porter	You did nothing, sir.
l21l	Man	I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
l22l		To mow ’em down before me# but if I spared any
l23l		That had a head to hit, either young or old,
l24l		He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,
l25l		Let me ne’er hope to see a chine again—
l26l		And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
l27l	One	(within)
		 Do you hear, master porter?
l28l	Porter	I shall be with you presently,
l29l		Good master puppy.
		(To his man)
		 Keep the door close, sirrah.
l30l	Man	What would you have me do?
	Porter	What should you do,
l31l		but knock ’em down by th’ dozens? Is this Moorfields
l32l		to muster in? Or have we some strange Indian with
l33l		the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us?
l34l		Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my
l35l		Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a
l36l		thousand. Here will be father, godfather, and all
l37l		together.
l38l	Man	The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow
l39l		somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his
l40l		face, for o’ my conscience twenty of the dog-days now
l41l		reign in ’s nose. All that stand about him are under the
l42l		line—they need no other penance. That fire-drake did
l43l		I hit three times on the head, and three times was his
l44l		nose discharged against me. He stands there like a
l45l		mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher’s
l46l		wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her
l47l		pinked porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a
l48l		combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, and
l49l		hit that woman, who cried out “Clubs!”, when I might
l50l		see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her
l51l		succour, which were the hope o’ th’ Strand, where she
l52l		was quartered. They fell on. I made good my place. At
l53l		length they came to th’ broomstaff to me. I defied ’em
l54l		still, when suddenly a file of boys behind ’em, loose
l55l		shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles that I was fain
l56l		to draw mine honour in and let ’em win the work. The
l57l		devil was amongst ’em, I think, surely.
l58l	Porter	These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse,
l59l		and fight for bitten apples, that no audience but the
l60l		tribulation of Tower Hill or the limbs of Limehouse,
l61l		their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of
l62l		’em in limbo patrum, and there they are like to dance
l63l		these three days, besides the running banquet of two
l64l		beadles that is to come.
		(Enter the Lord Chamberlain)
l65l	Lord Chamberlain	 Mercy o’ me, what a multitude are here!
l66l		They grow still, too—from all parts they are coming,
l67l		As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters,
l68l		These lazy knaves?
		(To the Porter and his man)
		 You’ve made a fine hand, fellows!
l69l		There’s a trim rabble let in—are all these
l70l		Your faithful friends o’ th’ suburbs? We shall have
l71l		Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies
l72l		When they pass back from the christening!
	Porter	An ’t please your honour,
l73l		We are but men, and what so many may do,
l74l		Not being torn a-pieces, we have done.
l75l		An army cannot rule ’em.
	Lord Chamberlain	As I live,
l76l		If the King blame me for ’t, I’ll lay ye all
l77l		By th’ heels, and suddenly—and on your heads
l78l		Clap round fines for neglect. You’re lazy knaves,
l79l		And here ye lie baiting of bombards when
l80l		Ye should do service.
		(Flourish of trumpets within)
		 Hark, the trumpets sound.
l81l		They’re come, already, from the christening.
l82l		Go break among the press, and find a way out
l83l		To let the troop pass fairly, or I’ll find
l84l		A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
		(As they leave, the Porter and his man call within)
l85l	Porter	 Make way there for the Princess!
	Man	You great fellow,
l86l		Stand close up, or I’ll make your head ache.
l87l	Porter	You i’ th’ camlet, get up o’ th’ rail—
l88l		I’ll peck you o’er the pales else.
		(Exeunt)