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King. 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 pleas'd me, That, when I am in heaven, I ihall desire To see what this child does, and praise my Maket.I thank ye all.-To you, my good lord-mayor, And your good brethren, I am much beliolden; I have receiv'd much honour by your presence, And
shall find me thankful. Lead the way,
lords; Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, She will be fick else. This day, no man think He has business at his house ; for all shall stay, This little one thall make it holiday. [Exeunt.
Tis ten to one, this play can never please
THE EN D.