The Porter of a royal palace was a real official position responsible for controlling access to the royal precincts. This Porter is earthy, profane, quick-witted, and completely overwhelmed. His speech rhythms are those of London street comedy — short jabs, insults, comic hyperbole. He and his Man are the only two characters in the play who speak entirely in a recognizable working-class London voice.
You’ll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you take the court for
Parish Garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.
You’ll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you take the court for Parish Garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.
porter says: you’ll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. do you take the court for parish garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.
you’ll leave your noise anon, ye rascals do you take the court for parish garden?
Belong to th’ gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! Is this a place to roar
in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones. These are but
switches to ’em. I’ll scratch your heads. You must be seeing
christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?
PORTER’S 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 sleep
On May-day morning, which will never be.
We may as well push against Paul’s as stir ’em.
Belong to th’ gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! Is this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones. These are but switches to ’em. I’ll scratch your heads. You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? PORTER’S 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 sleep On May-day morning, which will never be. We may as well push against Paul’s as stir ’em.
porter explains: belong to th’ gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! is this a place to roar in? fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones. these are but switches...
belong to th’ gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! is this a place to roar in? fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones these are but switches to ’em i’ll scratch your heads
When the Porter describes 'the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten apples,' he is describing the Globe Theatre's own standing audience — the groundlings in the yard who paid a penny, stood throughout the performance, and were notorious for noise, eating, and rowdy behavior. This is one of Shakespeare's most explicit metatheatrical moments: the play steps outside its historical fiction to acknowledge the living theatre in which it exists. The Elizabethan audience watching this scene in the Globe yard would have recognized themselves in the Porter's comic vilification. This creates a peculiar doubling — they are simultaneously watching a crowd besiege the palace gates and being told that they are exactly that crowd. The joke lands differently on them than it would in a modern theatre: it is affectionate, communal, and self-aware in a way that assumes the audience is in on it.
How got they in, and be hanged?
PORTER’S 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.
How got they in, and be hanged? PORTER’S 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 explains: how got they in, and be hanged? porter’s man. alas, i know not. how gets the tide in? as much as one sound cudgel of four foot— you see the poor remai...
how got they in, and be hanged? porter’s 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.
You did nothing, sir.
PORTER’S MAN.
I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
To mow ’em down before me; but if I spared any
That 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 again—
And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
You did nothing, sir. PORTER’S MAN. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand, To mow ’em down before me; but if I spared any That 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 again— And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
porter explains: you did nothing, sir. porter’s man. i am not samson, nor sir guy, nor colbrand, to mow ’em down before me; but if i spared any that had a head to hit,...
you did nothing, sir. porter’s man. i am not samson, nor sir guy, nor colbrand, to mow ’em down before me; but if i spared any that 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 again— and that i would not for a cow, god save her!
I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.—
Keep the door close, sirrah.
PORTER’S MAN.
What would you have me do?
I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.— Keep the door close, sirrah. PORTER’S MAN. What would you have me do?
porter says: i shall be with you presently, good master puppy.— keep the door close, sirrah. porter’s man. what would you have me do?
i shall be with you presently, good mast
Scene 5-3 sits between two of the play's most intense moments: the Council confrontation and Cranmer's rescue (5-2), and the christening prophecy (5-4). Its placement is not accidental. Shakespeare consistently uses comic scenes not as mere light relief but as structural counterweights that reestablish a human scale before grand rhetorical climaxes. The crowd in the palace yard is literally the same event viewed from below — from the street — that Cranmer will view from above in his vision of England's future. Both perspectives are real. The thousand thousand blessings Cranmer promises belong to a world that also contains a haberdasher's wife calling 'Clubs!' and a man with a nose like a mortar. Shakespeare insists on the coexistence of these registers: the great prophecy is not less true because the crowd outside is raucous; the comedy is not less human because something beautiful is happening inside.
What should you do, but knock ’em down by th’ dozens? Is this
Moorfields to muster in? Or have we some strange Indian with the great
tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of
fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one
christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and
all together.
PORTER’S MAN.
The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the
door—he should be a brazier by his face, for, o’ my conscience, twenty
of the dog-days now reign in’s nose. All that stand about him are under
the line; they need no other penance. That fire-drake did I hit three
times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me.
He stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a
haberdasher’s wife of small wit near him that railed upon me till her
pinked porringer fell off her head for kindling such a combustion in
the state. I missed the meteor once and hit that woman, who cried out
“Clubs!” when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her
succour, which were the hope o’ th’ Strand, where she was quartered.
They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to th’
broomstaff to me; I defied ’em still, when suddenly a file of boys
behind ’em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles that I was
fain to draw mine honour in and let ’em win the work. The devil was
amongst ’em, I think, surely.
What should you do, but knock ’em down by th’ dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? Or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a yousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. PORTER’S MAN. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door—he should be a brazier by his face, for, o’ my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in’s nose. All that stand about him are under the line; they need no other penance. That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me. He stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher’s wife of small wit near him that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head for kindling such a combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once and hit that woman, who cried out “Clubs!” when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o’ th’ Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to th’ broomstaff to me; I defied ’em still, when suddenly a file of boys behind ’em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of 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 explains: what should you do, but knock ’em down by th’ dozens? is this moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange indian with the great tool come to cour...
what should you do, but knock ’em down by th’ dozens? is this moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! on my christian conscience, this one christening will beget a yousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. porter’s man. the spoons will be the bigger, sir there is a fellow somewhat near the door—he should be a brazier by his face, for, o’ my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in’s nose all that stand about him are under the line; they need no other penance
These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten
apples, that no audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill or the limbs
of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of
’em in _Limbo Patrum_, and there they are like to dance these three
days, besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come.
These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten apples, that no audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of ’em in _Limbo Patrum_, and there they are like to dance these three days, besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come.
porter explains: these are the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten apples, that no audience but the tribulation of tower hill or the limbs of limeh...
these are the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten apples, that no audience but the tribulation of tower hill or the limbs of limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure i have some of ’em in _limbo patrum_, and there they are like to dance these three days, besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come.
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? You’ve made a fine hand, fellows!
There’s a trim rabble let in. Are all these
Your faithful friends o’ th’ suburbs? We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.
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? You’ve made a fine hand, fellows! There’s a trim rabble let in. Are all these Your faithful friends o’ th’ suburbs? We shall have Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening.
chamberlain explains: 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...
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? you’ve made a fine hand, fellows! there’s a trim rabble let in are all these your faithful friends o’ th’ suburbs? we shall have great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, when they pass back from the christening.
The Porter's Man's account is dense with specific London place names — Moorfields, Tower Hill, Limehouse, the Strand, the Marshalsea. These are not decorative local color. Each name carries a precise social meaning for the original audience. Moorfields was a scrubby area north of London used for military drill and also for the dispossessed. Tower Hill was where public executions drew the roughest crowds. Limehouse was a dockside slum notorious for sailors, violence, and foreigners. The Strand was a prosperous commercial street, making the haberdasher's wife 'quartered' there a comic detail about middle-class respectability thrown into street chaos. The Marshalsea in Southwark — which the Chamberlain threatens to send the porters to — was a real prison the audience would have known. Shakespeare is not writing generic comedy; he is writing specifically for a London audience who could mentally map the scene's entire social geography.
An’t please your honour,
We are but men; and what so many may do,
Not being torn a-pieces, we have done.
An army cannot rule ’em.
An’t please your honour, We are but men; and what so many may do, Not being torn a-pieces, we have done. An army cannot rule ’em.
porter says: an’t please your honour, we are but men; and what so many may do, not being torn a-pieces, we have done. an army cannot rule ’em.
an’t please your honour, we are but men;
As I live,
If the King blame me for’t, I’ll lay ye all
By th’ heels, and suddenly, and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglect. You’re lazy knaves,
And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound!
They’re come already from the christening.
Go break among the press, and find a way out
To let the troops pass fairly, or I’ll find
A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
As I live, If the King blame me for’t, I’ll lay ye all By th’ heels, and suddenly, and on your heads Clap round fines for neglect. You’re lazy knaves, And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound! They’re come already from the christening. Go break among the press, and find a way out To let the troops pass fairly, or I’ll find A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
chamberlain explains: as i live, if the king blame me for’t, i’ll lay ye all by th’ heels, and suddenly, and on your heads clap round fines for neglect. you’re lazy knaves,...
as i live, if the king blame me for’t, i’ll lay ye all by th’ heels, and suddenly, and on your heads clap round fines for neglect you’re lazy knaves, and here ye lie baiting of bombards, when ye should do service hark, the trumpets sound! they’re come already from the christening. go break among the press, and find a way out to let the troops pass fairly, or i’ll find a marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months.
Make way there for the Princess!
PORTER’S MAN.
You great fellow,
Stand close up, or I’ll make your head ache.
Make way there for the Princess! PORTER’S MAN. You great fellow, Stand close up, or I’ll make your head ache.
porter says: make way there for the princess! porter’s man. you great fellow, stand close up, or i’ll make your head ache.
make way there for the princess! porter’
You i’ th’ camlet, get up o’ th’ rail!
I’ll peck you o’er the pales else.
You i’ th’ camlet, get up o’ th’ rail! I’ll peck you o’er the pales else.
porter says: you i’ th’ camlet, get up o’ th’ rail! i’ll peck you o’er the pales else.
you i’ th’ camlet, get up o’ th’ rail! i
The Reckoning
This is the play's only purely comic scene, and it is perfectly placed. We have just witnessed the near-destruction of Cranmer, a scene of intense political danger. We are about to witness the christening of Elizabeth I, the play's culminating visionary moment. Between them, Shakespeare drops fifteen minutes of rowdy crowd comedy — a Porter and his assistant trying to beat back a mob of Londoners who have flooded the palace yard for a glimpse of the new princess. The contrast is deliberate and Shakespearean in its structural intelligence: the same event (Elizabeth's birth) that produces a prophetic vision from Cranmer produces a riot of common Londoners. The grand and the vulgar are inseparable. The 'thousand thousand blessings' Cranmer will pronounce belong to a world that also contains a haberdasher's wife who loses her hat in a street brawl and calls for reinforcements. This scene is also one of the play's most direct addresses to its own audience — the Porter's jibes at theatregoers ('These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten apples') are jokes about the Globe's own groundlings, standing in the yard watching exactly this scene.
If this happened today…
Two security guards at a stadium gate try to control the crowd flooding in before a major concert. One guard describes the chaos over radio: 'There's this guy with a face so red it looks like a brake light, and every time I hit him he blows his nose at me like a cannon. And there was this woman from the suburbs who screamed for her friends and thirty of them piled in.' The venue manager arrives and threatens to dock their pay and bar them from working for two months. Trumpets sound inside the stadium — the show is starting. The guards tell the crowd to move back and let the VIP guests through.