Heywood, Thomas, d. 1641 : : Edward IV, part i (1599)
compiled byXSLT

Thomas Heywood, d. 1641 (1574?-1641) The first part of King Edward the Fourth
[in, The First And Second partes of King Edward the Fourth.
Containing His mery pastime with the Tanner of Tamwoorth,
as also his loue to fayre Mistresse Shoare, her great promotion, fall and misery,
and lastly the lamentable death of both her and her husband.
Likewise the besiedging of London, by the bastarde Falconbridge,
and the valiant defence of the same by the Lord Maior and the cittizens.
As it hath diuers times beene publiquely played by the Right Honorable the Earle of Derby his seruants]
London
Imprinted ... by I. W. for Iohn Oxenbridge [etc. ] 1599
London
1599
XSLT translation from Chadwyck-Healey

STC 13341
Play details
Edward IV, part i.
Genre: History.
Date first published: 1599.
Date first performed: 1592-1599
Chadwyck-Healey transformed by xslt
The characters are identified by IDREF pointing to information in
the following declarations.
Duchess of York
King Edward IV
Queen
Jane Shore
Lord Howard
Sir Thomas Sellinger
Master Shore
Mayor
Spicing
Smoke
Chub
Iosseline
Vrswicker, the Recorder
Hobbs, the Tanner
Messenger
Miller
Falconbridge
1 Prentice
2 Prentice
Nell
1 Huntsman
2 Huntsman
Frances Emersley
Combined voice
Dudgeon
Unknown
Officer of the Mayor
Harry Morton
Head/executioner
Captain of the Isle of Wight
Humphrey Bowes
Master Aston
Hadland
Robert Goodfellow
Harry Grudgen
Mistress Blage
Boy
Waterman
Thomas Aire
Palmer
Jockie
Rufford
Widow
Master of St Katherines
The languages (other than English) which occur in the text are identified
by idREF which point to the following.
Latin
French
Enter King Edward, the Dutches of Yorke, the Queen,
the Lord Howard, and Sir Thomas Sellinger.
Dutchesse.

Son, I tell ye you have done you know not what:

King:
I have married a woman, else I am deceived mother.
Dutch.
Married a woman? married indeed,
Here is a marriage that befits a king:
It is no marvel it was done in haste,
Here is a Bridal and with hell to boot,
You have made work?
King.
Faith mother some we have indeed, but ere long
you shall see us make work for an heir apparent I doubt
not, nay, nay; come, come, Gods will what chiding still?
O God that ever I lived to see this day.
By my faith mother, I hope you shall see the night
too, and in the morning I will be bold to bid you to the
Christening, Grandmother, and Godmother to a Prince of
Wales, tut mother, it is a stirring world.
Have you sent Warwicke into France for this?
No by my faith mother I sent Warwicke into
France for an other, but this by chance being nearer hand,
and coming in the way I cannot tell how, we concluded,
and now (as you see) are going about to get a young king.
But tell me son how will you answer this?
Is it possible your rash unlawful act,
Should not breed mortal hate betwixt the Realms?
What may the French king think when he shall hear
That whilst you send to entreat about his daughter,
Basely to take a subject of your own?
What may the Princess Bona think of this?
Our noble Cousin Warwicke that great Lord,
That Centre-shaking thunderclap of war,
That like a Column propped the house of Yorke:
And bore our white Rose bravely in his top,
When he shall hear his embassage abused,
In this but made an instrument by you,
I know his soul will blush within his bosom,
And shame will sit in Scarlet on his Brow,
To have his honour touched with this foul blemish,
Son, Son I tell you that is done by you,
Which yet the child that is unborn shall rue.
Tush mother you are deceived, all true subjects
shall have cause to thank God, to have their king born of a
true English woman, I tell you it was never well since we
matched with strangers, so our children have been still like
Chickens of the half kind, but where the cock and the hen
be both of one breed, there is like to be birds of the game:
hear you mother, hear you, had I gone to it by fortune, I
had made your sons George and Dicke to have stood gaping
after the crown: this wench mother is a widow, and
hath made proof of her valour, and for anything I know I
am as like to do the deed as Iohn Gray her husband was,
I had rather the people prayed to bless mine heir, than send
me an heir: hold your peace, if you can see, there was never
mother had a towarder son, why Cousin Howard and

Tom Sellingere heard you ever, such a coil about a wife.
How.
My sovereign Lord with patience bear her spleen
Your princely mothers zeal is like a river,
That from the free abundance of the waters,
Breaks out into this inundation,
From her abundant care this rage proceeds,
Over swollen with the extremity of love.
Sellin.
My Lord, my Lord, avoid a woman's humour,
If you resist this tumour of her will,
Here you shall have her dwell upon this passion,
Until she jade and dull our ears again:
Seem you but sorry for what you have done,
And straight she will put the finger in the eye,
With comfort now, since it cannot be helped:
But make you show to justify the act
If ever other language in her lips,
Than out upon it, it is abominable, I dare be hanged,
Say anything it makes no matter what,
Than thus be wearied with a woman's chat.
Aye, Aye, you are the spaniels of the Court,
And thus you fawn and sooth your wanton king,
But Edward hadst thou prized thy majesty,
Thou never wouldst have stained thy princely state,
With the base leavings of a Subjects bed:
Nor borne the blemish of her Bigamy.
A widow, is it not a goodly thing?
Grayes children come ask blessing of the king,
Queen.
Nay I beseech your Grace my Lady Yorke,
Even as you are a Princess and a widow,
Think not so meanly of my widowhood,
A spotless virgin came I first to Gray,
With him I lived a true and faithful wife:
And since his hie imperial majesty,
Hath pleased to bless my poor dejected state
With the high Sovereign title of his Queen,
I here protest before the host of heaven,
I came as chaste a widow to his bed,
As when a virgin I to Gray was wed.
King
Come, come have done, now you have chid enough,
Gods foot, we were as merry ere she came, as any people
in Christendom, I with the mistress, and these with the maids:
only we had no fiddlers at our feast, but mother you have
made a fit of mirth: welcome to Grafton mother, by my
troth you are even just come as I wished you here, let us to
supper, and in Charity give us your blessing ere we go to
Bed.
Duch.
O Edward, Edward, fly and leave this place,
Wherein poor silly king thou art enchanted,
This is her dam of Bedfords work her mother,
That hath bewitched thee Edward my poor child,
Dishonour not the Princes of thy land,
To make them kneel with reverence at her feet,
That ere thou didst impale with sovereignty,
They would have scorned to have looked upon,
There is no such difference betwixt the greatest Peer,
And the poor silliest kitchen maid that lives,
As is betwixt thy worthiness and hers.
Queene
I do confess it, yet my Lady Yorke,
My mother is a Duchess as you are,
A Princess born, the Duke of Bedfords wife,
And as you know, a daughter and a sister,
Unto the royal blood of Burgundie.
But you cannot so basely think on me,
As I do think of these vain worldly titles,
God from my soul my sin as far divide.
As I am far from boasting this in pride.
Selling.
Madam, she is the mirror of her kind,
Had she but so much spleen as hath a gnat,
Her spirits would startle to abide your taunts,
She is a Saint, and Madam you blaspheme,
To wrong so sweet a Lady.
Thou art a minion and a flatterer.
Sellen.
Madam but that you are my sovereigns mother,
I would let you know you wrong a gentleman.
Howard
Good Cousin Sellinger have patience,
Her Graces rage by so much violence,
Hath spent itself already into air,
Dear Madam I beseech you on my knee,
Tender that loving kindness to the Queen,
That I dare swear she doth in soul to you,
Edw.
Well said good Cos, I pray thee make them friends:
why how now Besse, what weep? nay then I will chide you,
what sudden news comes by this messenger?
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
My sovereign Lord, the bastard Falconbridge,
Of late hath stirred rebellion in the South,
Encouraging his forces to deliver,
King Henrie late deposed out of the Tower,
To him the malcontented commons flock,
From every part of Sussex, Kent, and Essex,
His army waxed twenty thousand strong,
And as it is supposed by circumstance,
Mean to take London, if not well defended.
Edward
Well let this Phaeton that is mounted thus,
Look he sit surely, or by Englands George,
I will break his neck, this is no new evasion,
I surely thought that one day I should see,
That bastard Falcon take his wings to mount,
Into our Eagle airy, methought I saw,
Black discontent sit ever on his brow,
And now I see I calculated well,
Good Cousin Howard, and Tom Sellinger,
This night we will spend in feast and jollity,
With our new Queen, and our beloved mother,
Tomorrow you shall have commission,
To raise up power against this haughty rebel:
Sirrah depart not till you know our pleasure,
You shall convey us letters back to London,
Unto the Mayor, Recorder, and our friends,
Is Supper ready? come by my bonnie Besse,
Welcome mother, we are all your guests.
Exeunt.
Enter Falconbridge with his troupes marching, Spicing,
Smoke, Chub, and others.
Fal.
Hold drum,
1 Spi.
Hold drum and be hanged,
2 Smoke
Hold drum hold, peace then ho, silence to the
3 proclamation.
You lie you rogue, it is to the oration.
Chub.
Nay then you all lie, it is to the coblication,
True hearted English and our valiant friends,
all
Ho brave general in faith.
Spi.
Peace there you rogues, or I will split your chaps:
Dear countrymen, I publicly proclaim,
If any wronged discontented English,
Touched with true feeling of King Henries wrongs,
Henrie the sixth the lawful King of England,
who by that Tyrant Edward the Usurper,
Is held a wretched prisoner in the Tower,
If any man that fain would be enfranchised,
From the sad yoke of Yorkish servitude,
Under which we toil like naked Galley-slaves,
Know he that Thomas Neuill the Lord Falconbridge,
Aye Aye a Faconbridge a Faconbridge:
Spici.
Peace ye clamorous rogues, on General, on with
your oration, peace there,
Pitying King Henries poor distressed case,
Armed with his title, and a subjects zeal,
Takes up just arms against the house of Yorke:
And do proclaim our ancient liberty:
Liberty, liberty, liberty, general liberty,
We do not rise like Tiler, Cade, and Straw,
Blewbeard, and other of that rascal route,
Basely like Tinkers, or such muddy slaves,
For mending measures, or the price of corn,
Or for some common in the wild of Kent,
That is by some greedy Cormorant enclosed,
But in the true and ancient lawful right,
Of the redoubted house of Lancaster.
Our blood is noble, by our birth a Neuill,
And by our lawful line Lord Falconbridge,
Who is here that is of so dull a leaden temper,
That is not fired with a Neuils name?
All.
A Neuill, a Neuill, a Neuill,
Fa.
Our quarrel like ourself is honourable,
The law our warrant.
Smoke
Aye, Aye, the law is on our side.
Aye, the law is in our own hands.
Spicing.
Peace you Rogues.
And more, a blessing by the word proposed,
To those that aid a true anointed king,
Courage brave spirits and cry a Falconbridge,
A Falconbridge, a Falconbridge,
We will be masters of the mint ourselves,
And set our own stamp on the golden coin:
We will shoe our neighing Coursers with no worse,
Than the purest silver that is sold in Cheap.
At Leaden hall we will sell pearls by the peck,
As now the mealmen use to sell their meal:
In Westminster we will keep a solemn Court,
And build it bigger to receive our men,
Cry Falconbridge my hearts liberty,
Falconbridge and liberty etc.
Smoke.
Peace ye slaves, or I will smoke ye else,
Peace ye slaves, or I will chub your chaps, but
indeed thou mayst well smoke them, because thy name is
Smoke.
Why Sirrah, I hope Smoke the Smith of Chepsted,
is as good a man as Chub the Chandler of Sandwich.
Peace ye Rogues, what are you quarrelling? and
now list to Captain Spicing.
You know Cheapeside there are the Mercers shops,
Where we will measure velvet by our pikes:
And Silks and Satins by the streets whole breadth:
We will take the Tankards from the Conduit cocks,
To fill with Ipocras and drink carouse.
Where chains of gold and plate shall be as plenty,
As wooden dishes in the willed of Kent:
O bravely said Ned Spicing, the honestest Lad
that ever pounded spice in a mortar, now speaks Captain
Smoke.
Look lads for from this hill ye may discern,
The lovely town which we are marching to,
That same is London Lads ye look upon,
Range all arrow my hearts and stand at gaze,
As do the herds of Dear at some strange sight:
Or as a troupe of hungry travellers,
That fix their eyes upon a furnished feast,
Look how the Tower doth entice us to come on,
To take out Henry the sixth there prisoner,
See how S. Katherines smokes, wipe slaves your eyes
And whet your stomachs for the good malt pies.
Why then belike I am nobody: room and avoidance,
for now speaks Captain Chub:
No sooner in London will we be,
But the Bakers for you, the Brewers for me,
Birchin lane shall suit us, the Costermongers fruit us:
The Poulters send us in Fowl,
And Butchers meat without control:
And ever when we sup or dine:
The Vintners freely bring us in wine:
If anybody ask who shall pay,
Cut off his head and send him away,
This is Captain Chubs law whosoever say nay.
Bravely resolved, so march we forward all,
And boldly say, good luck shall us befall.
Enter the Lord Maior, M. Shoare, M. Iosseline, in their
veluet coates, and gorgets, and leading staues.
Mai.
This is well done, thus should good Citizens,
Fashion themselves as well for war as peace:
Have ye commanded that in every street,
They hang forth lights as soon as night comes on?
Say Cousin Shoare, that was referred to you.
Shoare
We have my Lord, besides from every hall
There is at least two hundred men in arms.
Maior.
It cheers my heart to hear this readiness,
Let never rebels put true Subjects down,
Come when they will, their welcome shall be such,
As they had better kept them further off.
But where is M. Recorder? his advice,
Must not be wanting in these high affairs.
Sho.
About an hour ago, and somewhat more,
I left him fortifying the bridge my Lord,
Which done he purposed to meet you here:
A discreet painful Gentleman he is,
And we must all of us be so inclined:
If we intend to have the City safe,
Or look for thanks, and credit with the king,
I tell ye masters, aged though I be,
I (for my part) will to no bed this night.
Ioss.
Why is it thought the Bastard is so near?
How mean ye M. Iosseline by near?
He neither comes from Italy nor Spain:
But out of Kent, and Essex which you know,
Are both so near, as nearer cannot be.
Nay, by your patience good my Lord a word,
Simple though I am, yet I must confess,
A mischief further off, would, and so forth,
You know my meaning, things not seen before,
Are, and so forth, yet in good sadness,
I would that all were well, and perchance,
It may be so, what, were it not for hope,
The heart, and so forth, but to the matter,
You mean and purpose, Aye, I, am sure ye do?
M.
Well M. Iosseline, we are sure ye mean well
Although somewhat defective in your utterance.
Io.
Aye, Aye, my Lord Mayor, I am you know,
Willing, ready, and so forth, tut, tut, for me, ha, ha
My Mansion is at Ham, and thence you know,
I come to help you in this needful time:
When rebels are so busy, and so forth,
What Masters age must never be despised,
You shall find me my Lord, still, and so forth,
Enter Vrswicke the Recorder.
Sh.
My Lord, now here comes M. Recorder.
Re.
Good even my good Lord Mayor, the streets are chained,
The Bridge well manned and every place prepared,
Shall we now go together and consult,
What else there is to be determined of?
Your coming M. Recorder was the thing
We all desired therefore let us consult,
And now what say ye, if with half our power,
We issue forth, and give the rebels fight?
Recor.
Before they do provoke us nearer hand
There were no way to that, if all be pleased,
Whats your opinion M. Iosseline?
Good sooth my Lord Mayor, and M. Recorder,
You may take your choice, but in my conceit,
Issue if you will, or else stay if you will,
A man can never be too wary and so forth,
Yet as to issue will not be the worst,
Even so to tarry, well, you may think more on it,
But all is one, we shall be sure to fight,
And you are wise enough, to see your time, Aye, Aye, in Gods name.
My Lord accept his meaning better than his counsel.
Aye, so we do, or else we were to blame,
What if we stop the passage of the Thames,
With such provision as we have of ships?
It is doubtful yet my Lord, whether the rebels,
Purpose that way to seek our detriment,
Rather me seemeth they will come by land,
And either make assault at London bridge,
Or else at Algate, both which entrance,
Were good they should be strongly fortified.
Ios.
Well said master Recor. you do, Aye, Aye, I warrant ye.
As for the other, the whole companies
Of Mercers, Grocers, Drapers, and the rest,
Are drawn together for their best defence,
Beside the Tower, a neighbour to that place,
As on the one side it will clear the river,
So on the other with their Ordinance,
It may repulse and beat them from the gate.
A noyse within.
Mai.
What noise is this? provide ye suddenly:
And every man betake him to his charge.
Shore
Soft who is this, how now my friend what news?
My master the Lieutenant of the Tower, gives ye
to understand, he hath descried the army of the rebels.
Which way come they?
From Essexward, and therefore it is his mind,
You guard both Algate well, and Bishopsgate.
Saint George away, and let us all resolve,
Either to vanquish this rebellious rout,
Preserve our goods, our children and our wives,
Or seal our resolution with our lives.
Enter Falconbridge, Spicing, with his troups.
Summon the City, and command our entrance,
Which if we shall be stubbornly denied,
Our power shall rush like thunder through the walls,
Open your gates slaves when I command ye,
Spicing beates on the gates, and then enters the L. Maior
and his associates with prentises.
What is he that beats thus at the City gates,
Commanding entrance as he were a king?
He that will have releasement for a king:
I Thomas Neuell the Lord Falconbridge.
Sp.
Ho Sirrah, you, clapperdudgeon, unlock, unbolt,
Or I will bolt you if I get in, stand you preaching with a pox?
We have no warrant Tho. Falconbridge,
To let your armed troupes into our City,
Considering you have taken up these arms,
Against our sovereign and our countries peace.
I tell the Mayor, and know he tells thee so,
That cometh armed in a kings defence,
That I crave entrance in Kings Henries name,
In right of the true line of Lankaster,
Methinks that word spoke from a Neuils mouth
Should like an earthquake rend your chained gates,
And tear in pieces your portcullises,
I thunder it again into your ears,
You stout and brave courageous Londoners,
In Henries name I crave my entrance in,
R.
Should Henries name command thee entrance here,
We should deny allegiance unto Edward,
Whose true and faithful subjects we are sworn,
And in whose presence is our sword up borne.
I tell thee traitor then thou bearst thy sword
Against thy true undoubted king,
S ho.
aye then I tell thee bastard Falconbridge,
My Lord Mayor bears his sword in his defence,
That put the sword into the arms of London,
Made the Lord Mayors for ever after knights,
Richard, deposed by Henrie Bullingbrooke,
From whom the house of Yorke doth claim their right.
What is he that answers us thus saucily?
Smo.
Sirrah your name, that we may know ye hereafter,
My name is Shoare, a Goldsmith by my trade,
What not that Shoare that hath the dainty wife,
Shoares wife, the flower of London for her beauty.
Yes rebel even the very same.
Spy.
Run rascal and fetch thy wife to our General
presently, or else all the Gold in Cheapside cannot ransom
her: wilt thou not stir when I bid thee.
Shoare listen me, thy wife is mine that is flat,
This night in thine own house she sleeps with me,
Now Crosebie Lord Mayor shall we enter in?
Ma.
Crosebie the Lord Mayor tells thee proud rebel no.
No Crosbie shall I not: then doting Lord,
I cram the name of rebel down thy throat,
There is not the poorest rascal in my camp,
But if he chance to meet thee in Cheapside
Upon thy foot cloth, he shall make thee light,
And hold his stirrup while he mount thy horse,
Then lackey him which way he please to go,
Crosebie I will make the Citizens be glad,
To send thee and the Aldermen thy brethren,
All manacled, and chained like Galley slaves,
To ransom them, and to redeem the City.
Nay then proud rebel, pause and hear me speak,
There is not the poorest and meanest Citizen,
That is a faithful subject to the king,
But in despite of thy rebellious route,
Shall walk to Bowe, a small wand in his hand,
Although thou lie encamped at Mileend Green,
And not the proudest rebel of you all,
Shall dare to touch him for his damned soul.
Come, we will pull up our portcullises,
And let me see thee enter if thou dare,
Spoken like a man, and true velvet jacket,
And we will enter or stick by the way.
Enter Lord Maior, Recorder, and Iosseline.
Where is master Recorder, and master Iosseline?
Here my Lord Mayor, we now have manned the
walls, and fortified such places as were needful,
Why it is well, brothers and Citizens,
Stick to your City as good men should do,
Think that in Richards time even such a rebel,
Was then by Walworth the Lord Mayor of London,
Stabbed dead in Smithfield:
Then show yourselves as it befits the time,
And let this find a hundredth Walworths now,
Dare stab a rebel were he made of brass,
And Prentices stick to your officers,
For you may come to be as we are now,
God and our King against an arrant rebel,
Brothers away, let us defend our walls:
1 Pren.
My Lord your words are able to infuse,
A double courage in a cowards breast,
Then fear not us although our chins be bare,
Our hearts are good, the trial shall be seen,
Against these rebels on this champion green.
2 Pren.
We have no tricks nor policies of war,
But by the ancient custom of our Fathers,
We will soundly lay it on, take it off that will.
And London Prentices be ruled by me,
Die ere ye loose fair Londons liberty:
S.
How now my flatcaps, are ye grown so brave?
It is but your words, when matters come to proof,
You will scud as it were a company of sheep,
My counsel therefore is to keep your shops,
What lack you, better will beseem your mouths,
Than terms of war, in sooth you are too young:
Pr.
Sirrah go to, you shall not find it so,
Flatcaps thou callest us, we scorn not the name,
And shortly by the virtue of our swords,
We will make your cap so sit unto your crown,
As sconce and cap and all kiss the ground.
2 P.
You are those desperate idle swaggering mates,
That haunt the suburbs in the time of peace,
And raise up ale-house brawls in the street,
And when the rumour of the war begins,
You hide your heads, and are not to be found,
Thou termest it better that we keep our shops,
It is good indeed we should have such a care,
But yet for all our keeping now and then,
Your Pilfering fingers break into our locks,
Until at Tyborne you acquit the fault:
Go to, albeit by custom we are mild,
As those that do profess civility,
Yet being moved a nest of angry hornets
Shall not be more offensive than we will,
We will fly about your ears and sting your hearts.
He tells you truth my friends, and so forth.
Who can endure to be so braved by boys?
1 Pr.
Nay scorn us not that we are Prentices,
The Chronicles of England can report,
What memorable actions we have done,
To which this days achievement shall be knit,
To make the volume larger than it is.
Now of mine honour, Ye do cheer my heart
Brave English offsprings, valiantly resolved,
2 Pre.
My Lord return you back, let us alone,
You are our Masters, give us leave to work,
And if we do not vanquish them in sight,
Let us go supperless to bed at night.
Exeunt all but Spicing, Smoke, and their crew.

Sm. get thee up on the top of S. Buttolphes steeple,
and make a proclamation.
What a plague should I proclaim there?
That the bells be rung backward,
And cutting of throats be cried havoc,
No more calling of lantern and candlelight,
That maidenheads be valued at just nothing:
And Sack be sold by the Sallet.

That no piddling slave stand
to pick a lock, but slash me off
the hinges, as one would slit up a Cows paunch.
Let no man have less than a warehouse to his
wardrobe: cry a fig for a Sergeant, and walk by the
Counter like a Lord, pluck out the Clapper of Bow bell,
and hang up all the Sextons in the City.
Rantam Scantam, Rogues follow your Leader,
Cavalier Spicing the maddest slave that ever pounded spice in a
mortar.
Take me an Usurer by the greasy pouch, and shake
out his Crowns, as a hungry dog would shake a Haggis,
Bar foul play Rogues, and live by honest filching and
stealing, he that hath a true finger, let him forfeit his face to
the frying pan.
Follow your Leader Rogues, follow your Leader.

Assault, Assault, and cry a Falconbridge.
Iosseline on the walles cries to them.
Sirrah Spicing, if Spicing be thy name, we are here
for matters and causes as it might seem for the king, therefore
it were good, and so forth.
Open the gates, or if we be the Picklocks, ye Rogues
we will play the Mastiff dogs amongst you: If I worry not
a thousand of you with my teeth, let me be hanged in a
pack-thread, and so forth.
Fond fellow, justice is to be used Aye marry is it, and law
in some sort as it were is to be followed, O God forbid else,
this our Magistrate hath power as it might seem, and so
forth, for duty is to be observed, and Officers must be obeyed,
in sort and calling, and so forth.
We will talk more anon, good M. and so forth.
Here is a very fierce assault on all sides, wherein the Prentses do great seruice.
Enter Falconbridge angrie with his men.
Why this it is to trust to these base Rogues.
This dirty scum of rascal peasantry:
This heartless rout of base rascality,
A plague upon you all, you cowardly Rogues;
You cravened Curs, you slimy muddy clowns,
Whose courage but consists in multitude,
Like sheep and neat that follow one an other,
Which if one run away, all follow after:
This hedge-bred Rascal, this filthy fry of ditches,
A vengeance take you all, this it is to lead you,
Now do you cry and shrike at every shock,
A hot consuming mischief follow you.
'swounds scale Rogues, scale, a Falconbridge, a Falconbridge.
Enter Lord Maior and his traine.
Set open the gates, nay then we will sally out,
It never shall be said when I was Mayor,
The Londoners were shut up in the City,
Then cry king Edward, and let us issue out.
Now if you be true hearted Englishmen,
The Gate is set open and the portcullis up:
Let us Pell Mell in, to stop their passage out,
He that first enters, be possessed of Cheap,
I give it him freely, and the chiefest wench.
That he can find, let that lie in the bargain.
Exeunt
The Lord Maior and the Cittizens hauing valiantly repulsed the Rebels from the Cittie:
Enters Falconbridge and Spicing and their traine wounded and dismaied.
Hearest thou General, there is hot drinking at the
Mouth at Bishopsgate, for our soldiers are all Mouth, they
lie like Rascals with their Brains beaten out, therefore
since we are all like to feed hogs in Houndsditch, let us retire
our troops, and save our maimed men, or if we issue further,
we are put to the sword every mothers son of us.
Art thou that villain in whose damned mouth,
Was never heard of any word but wounds?
Whose recreant limbs are notched with gaping scars,
Thicker than any carking craft-mans score,
Whose very scalp is scratched and crazed and broken,
Like an old mazer beaten on the stones,
And standest thou now to save our maimed men?
A plague upon thee coward.
Why how now base Thomas? 'swounds, wert
thou a base Uiall, thou art but a rascal and a rebel as I am,
hearst thou, if I do not turne true Subject and leave thee,
let me be worried with dogs, 'swounds dost thou impeach
my manhood? Tom Neuill thou hadst as good to have damned
thyself as uttered such a word, flatly I forsake thee, and all
that love Ned Spicing follow me.
Here the rest offer to follow him.
aside,
Fal.
Come come ye testy fool, thou seest me grieved,
Yet canst not bear with mine infirmity,
Thou knowest I hold thee for as tall a man
As any lives or breathes our English air,
I know there lives not a more fiery spirit,
A more resolved valiant, a plague upon it,
Thou knowest I love thee, yet if a word escape
My lips in anger, how testy then thou art?
I had rather all men left me then thyself,
Thou art my soul, thou art my Genius:
I cannot live without thee not an hour,
Thus must I still be forced against my will,

To sooth this dirty slave, this cowardly rascal.
Come, come be friends, ye testy firebrand,
We must retire there is no remedy.
Nay Tom, if thou wilt have me mount on the walls
And cast myself down headlong on their pikes,
I will do it, but to impeach my valour,
Had any man but thou spoke half so much,
I would have split his heart, still beware
My valour, such words go hardly down,
Well, I am friends, thou thoughtest not as thou spakest
No on my soul, thou thinkst not that I did,
Sound a retreat there I command ye straight,
But whither shall we retire?
To Mileend Green, there is no fitter place,
Then let us back retire to Mileend Green,
And there expect fresh succour from our friends,
With such supply as shall ere long assure
The City is our own, march on, away.
Enter the L. Maior with his train and prentises.
Maior
Ye have bestirrred ye like good Citizens,
And shown yourselves true subjects to your king,
You worthily prentices bestirred yourselves,
That it did cheer my heart to see your valour,
The rebels are retired to Mileende Green.
Where so we may not suffer them to rest.
But issue forth upon them with fresh force.
My Lord Mayor, diligence doth well, and so forth.
Matters must be looked into as they ought, indeed
should they, when things are well done, they are,
and so forth, for causes and things must indeed be
looked into.
Well sir, we very well conceive your meaning,
And you have shown yourself a worthy gentleman:
See that our walls be kept with courts of guard,
And well defended against the enemy,
For we will now withdraw us to Guild hall,
To take advice what further must be done.
Enter maister Shoare and Iane his wife.
Be not afraid (sweet heart) the worst is past,
God have the praise, the victory is ours,
We have prevailed, the rebels are repulsed,
And every street of London soundeth joy,
Canst thou then (gentle Iane) be sad alone?
Iane
I am not sad now you are here with me,
My joy, my hope, my comfort, and my love,
My dear, dear husband, kindest Mathew Shoare,
But when these arms the circles of my soul,
Were in the fight so forward as I heard,
How could I choose, sweet heart, but be afraid?
Why dost thou tremble now, when perils past?
Ia.
I think upon the horror of the time,
But tell me why you fought so desperately?
First to maintain King Edwards royalty,
Next to defend the Cities liberty,
But chiefly Iane to keep thee from the foil,
Of him that to my face did vow thy spoil,
Had he prevailed, where then had been our lives,
Dishonoured our daughters, ravished our fair wives,
Possessed our goods, and set our servants free,
Yet all this nothing to the loss of thee.
Of me sweet heart? why how should I be lost?
Were I by thousand storms of fortune tossed,
And should endure the poorest wretched life,
yet Iane will be thy honest loyal wife,
The greatest Prince the sun did ever see,
Shall never make me prove untrue to thee:
I fear not fair means, but a rebels force,
These hands shall make this body a dead corse,
Ere force or flattery shall mine honour stain,
True fame survives, when death the flesh hath slain.
Enter an Officer from the Lord Maior.
Of.
God save ye master Shoare, and mistress by your leave,
Sir my Lord Mayor sends for ye by me,
And prays your speedy presence at Guild hall,
There is news the rebels have made head again,
And have ensconced themselves upon Mileend,
And presently our armed men must out,
You being Captain of two companies
In honour of your valour and your skill,
Must lead the vanguard, God and right stand with ye.
Friend tell my Lord I will wait upon him strait.
Friend tell my Lord he does my husband wrong,
To set him foremost in the danger still,
ye shall not go if I may have my will,
Peace wife, no more, friend I will follow ye,
Exit.
In faith ye shall not, prithee do not go.
Not go sweet heart? that were a cowards trick,
A traitors part to shrink when others fight,
Envy shall never say that Mathew Shore
The Goldsmith staid, when other men went out,
To meet his Kings and countries enemy,
No Iane, against all the rebels on Mileend,
I dare alone King Edwards right defend.
If you be slain, what shall become of me?
Right well my wench, enough enough will marry thee,
I leave thee worth at least five thousand pound.
She weepes.
Ia.
Marry again? that word my heart doth wound,
I will never marry, nor I will not live,

If thou be killed, let me go with thee Mat.
It is idle talk good Iane, no more of that,
Go to my Lady Mayoress and the rest,
As you are still companion with the best,
With them be merry, and pray for our good speed,
To part from thee my very heart doth bleed.
Enter Falconbridge with his troupes marching, as being at Mileend.
Yet stand we in the sight of upreared Troy,
And suck the air she draws: our very breath
Flies from our nostrils warm unto the walls,
We beard her bristling spires, her battled towers,
And proudly stand and gaze her in the face,
Look on me, and I doubt not ye imagine,
My worth as great as any one of yours,
My fortunes, would I basely fawn on Edward,
To be as fair as any man's in England,
But he that keeps your sovereign in the Tower,
Hath seized my land, and robbed me of my right,
I am a Gentleman as well as he,
What he hath got, he holds by tyranny,
Now if you faint or cowardly should fly,
There is no hope for any one to live,
We hear the Londoners will leave the City,
And bid us battle here on Mileend Green,
Whom if we vanquish, then we take the town,
And ride in triumph through Cheap to Paules,
The Mint is ours, Cheap, Lumbard street our own
The meanest soldier wealthier than a King.
March fair ye rogues, all kings or cap-knitters:
dost thou hear Tom Falconbridge? I
prithee grant me one boon I shall ask thee.
What is it Ned? it is hard I should deny thee.
Why that when we have won the City, as we
cannot choose but win it, that I may have the knighting
of all these rogues and rascals.
What then?
What then? S'wounds I scorn your scurvy wry mouthed,
what then? now a pox take me if I fight a blow.
why this is fine, go to, knight whom thou wilt:
Who, I knight any of them? I will see them hanged first
for a company of tottered ragged rascals, if I were a king,
I would not knight one of them?
What not me Cavalier Chub?
Yes, I care not if I knight thee: and yet I will see thee
hanged ere I will honour thee so much: I care not so much for
the matter, but I would not be denied my humour.
Why what a perverse fellow art thou Ned?
Ho my fine Tom, my brave Falconbridge, my mad
Greek, my lusty Neuill: thou art a king, a Cesar, A
plague on thee, I love thee not, and yet I will die with thee.
Enter the Lord Maior, Recorder, Iosseline, Shoare, and their Souldiours marching.
See how rebellion can exalt itself,
Pruning the feathers of sick discipline.
They think they can outlook our truer looks.
Mark but the scornful eye of Falconbridge.
I rather think it is fear upon his cheek,
Deciphers pale disturbance in his heart.
Our coming forth hath, well, I say no more,
But shall we take occasion, and so forth,
Rebellion should have no respite, O my Lord,
The time hath been, but all is one for that.
How like a troupe of rank over ridden Jades,
You bushy bearded Citizens appear?
Nay, rather so many men in the Moon,
And every one a furzy bush in his mouth.
The four and twenty wards? now fair befall them,
Would anyone have thought before this hour,
There had been such increase of muddy slaves?
Peace soldiers, they are resolute you see,
And not to flatter us, nor favour them,
Such haughty stomachs seldom have been seen,
Embodied in the breasts of Citizens,
How sternly in their own peculiar strength,
Without the assistance of their lingering king,
Did they of late repulse us from their walls?
And now again how expeditiously,
And unexpected they have met us here?
were we more deadly incensed than we are,
I would not but commend their chivalry.
Captain, shall we go challenge them to fight?
'sblood we burn daylight, they will think anon,
we are afraid to see their glittering swords.
Ch.
Tell them they come in steed of pudding pies,
And Stratford cakes to makes a banquet here.
Soft give me leave, I will devise with words,
To weaken and abash their fortitude,
The Bastard offers to come forth my Lord.
I am the man intend to answer him.
Crosbie.
Traitor.
Traitor? s'wounds down with him.
Be patient, give me leave I say to speak,
I doubt not but the traitors name shall rest
With those that keeps their lawful King in bonds:
Mean time ye men of London once again,
Behold my warlike colours are displayed,
which I have vowed shall never be wrapped up,
Until your lofty buildings kiss our feet,
Unless you grant me passage through your streets.
Passage, sayst thou? that must be over our breasts,
If any passage thou art like to have.
Why then upon your bodies will I tread,
And wade through standing pools of your lost blood.
We know thy threats, and reckon them as wind,
Not of sufficient power to shake a reed.
But we shook your gates not long ago,
And made your walls to shake like irish bogs.
Aye, and so terrified ye, that not one of ye durst come
to fetch a pint of sack at the mouth at Bishopsgate, no not
for your lives.
Aye but you know what followed, and so forth.
Et cetera? are you there? methinks the sight of the
dun Bull, the Neuels honoured crest, should make you leave
your broken sentences, and quite forget ever to speak at
a l.
Nay then look thou upon our Cities arms,
Wherein is a bloody dagger, that is it,
Wherewith a rebel like to Falconbridge,
Had his desert, meet for his treachery,
Can you behold that, and not quake for fear?
Since when, it is successively decreed,
Traitors with us shall never better speed.
Captain and fellow soldiers talk no more,
But draw your meaning forth in down right blows.
Falcon.
Sound then alarum.
Maior,
Do the like for us, and where the right is,
there attend success.
Stay and be better advised, why countrymen,
What is this Falconbridge you follow so?
I could instruct you, but you know my mind.
And Falconbridge what are these rusticals,
Thou shouldest repose such confidence in glass,
Shall I inform thee? no, thou art wise enough,
Edward of Yorke delays the time you say,
Therefore he will not come, imagine so,
The Cities weak, hold that opinion still,
And your pretence king Henries liberty.
True, but as how? shall I declare you? no.
what then? you will fight, in gods name take your choice,
I can no more but give you mine advice.
Away with this parentheses of words,
Crosbie courage thy men, and on this green,
whose cause is right, let it be quickly seen.
I am as ready as thou canst desire,
On then a Gods name.
They fight, the rebels driue them backe: then enter Falconbridge and Spicing.
This was well fought, now Spicing list to me,
The Citizens thus having given us ground,
And therefore somewhat daunted, take a band
Of Essex soldiers, and with all the speed
Thou possibly canst make, withdraw thyself,
And get between the City gates and them.
O brave Tom Neuill, gallant Falconbridge,
I aim at thy intended policy,
This is thy meaning, while thou art employed,
And holdest them battle here on Mileend Green,
I must provide as harbinger before,
There be not only clear and open passage,
But the best merchants houses to receive
Us and our retinue, I am proud of that,
And will not sleep upon thy just command.
Away then I will follow as I may,
And doubt not but that ours will be the day.
After some excursions, enter Lord Maior and maister Shoare.
We have recovered what before we lost,
And heaven stands with the justice of our cause,
But this I noted in the fight even now,
That part of this rebellious crewe is sent,
By what direction, or for what intent,
I cannot guess, but may suspect the worst,
And as it seems, they compass it about,
To hem us in, or get the gate of us,
And therefore Cousin Shoare, as I repose
Trust in thy valour and thy loyalty,
Draw forth three hundred bowmen, and some pikes.
And presently encounter their assault.
Shoare.
I have your meaning, and effect my Lord,
I trust shall disappoint them of their hope.
After an alarum, Enter Spicing with drum and certaine Souldiours.
Come on my hearts, we will be kings tonight,
Carouse in Gold, and sleep with merchants wives,
While their poor husbands loose their lives abroad,
We are now quite behind our enemies backs,
And there is no let or hindrance in the way,
But we may take possession of the town,
Ah you mad rogues, this is the wished hour,
Follow your leader, and be resolute.
As he marcheth, thinking to enter, Shoare and his souldiers issue foorth and repulse him,
after excursions, wherein the rebels are disperst. Enter Maior, Recor. Shoare, Iosseline,
and a Messenger talking with the Maior.
Exit Mess.
Maior.
Aye, my good friend, so certify his grace,
The Rebels are dispersed all and fled,
And now his Highness meets with victory.
Marshall yourselves, and keep in good array:
To add more glory to this victory:
The king in person cometh to this place,
How great an honour have you gained today?
And how much is this City famed for ever,
That twice without the help, either of king,
Or any, but of God, and our own selves,
We have prevailed against our countries foes?
Thanks to his majesty assisted us,
Who always helps true Subjects in their need.
The Trumpets sound, then enters king Edward, L. How. Sellinger and the traine,
Where is my Lord Mayor?
Here dread Sovereign.
I hold no Lordship nor no dignity,
In presence of my gracious Lord the king,
But all I humble at your highness feet,
With the most happy conquest of proud rebels,
Dispersed and fled, that now remains no doubt,
Of ever making head to vex us more.
K.
You have not taken the bastard Falconbridge:
Or is he slain?
Neither my gracious Lord.
Although we laboured to our uttermost,
Yet all our care came over short,
For apprehending him or Spicing either,
But some are taken, others on proffered grace,
Yielded themselves, and at your mercy stand.
Thanks good Lord Mayor, you may condemn us
Of too much slackness in such urgent need:
But we assure you on our royal word,
So soon as we had gathered us a power,
We dallied not, but made all haste we could,
What order have ye taken for Falconbridge,
And his confederates in this rebellion?
Under your leave my Liege, we have proclaimed
Who bringeth Falconbridge alive or dead,
Shall be requited with a thousand marks,
As much for Spicing, others of less worth
At easier rates are set.
There he drawes his sword and knightes them.
K.
Well have ye done,
And we will see it paid from our Exchequer.
Now leave we this and come to you,
That have so well deserved in these affairs,
Affairs, I mean of so maine consequence.
Kneel down and all of you receive in field,
The honour you have merited in field.
Arise Sir Iohn Crosbie, Lord Mayor of London and knight.
Arise up Sir Ralph Iosseline knight.
Arise Sir Thomas Vrswicke our Recorder of London, and knight.
Now tell me which is M. Shoare.
This same my Lord,
And hand to hand he fought with Falconbridge.
Shoare kneel thou down.
What call ye else his name?
His name is Mathew Shoare my Lord.
Shoare, why kneelest thou not, and at thy Sovereigns
hand receive thy right?
Pardon me gracious Lord,
I do not stand contemptuous or despising,
Such royal favour of my Sovereign,
But to acknowledge mine unworthiness:
Far be it from the thought of Mathew Shoare,
That he should be advanced with Aldermen,
With our Lor Mayor, and our right grave Recorder.
If anything hath been performed by me,
That may deserve your Highness meanest respect,
I have enough, and I desire no more,
Then let me crave that I may have no more.
Well, be it as thou wilt, some other way
We will devise to quittance thy deserts,
And not to fail therein upon my word.
Now let me tell ye all my friends at once,
Your king is married, since you saw him last,
And haste, to help you in this needful time,
Made me on sudden to forsake my bride.
But seeing all things are fallen out so well,
And there remains no further doubt of ill,
Let me entreat you would go boot yourselves,
And bring your king a little on his way.
How say you my Lord, shall it be so?
Now God forbid but that my Lord the king
Should always have his Subjects at command.
Forbid quotha? Aye in good sadness, your majesty
shall find us always ready, and so forth.
Why then set forward Gentlemen,
And come Lord Mayor, I must confer with you.
Enter Falconbridge and Spicing with their weapons in their handes.
Art thou the man whose victories drawn at sea,
Filled every heart with terror of thy name?
Art thou that Neuill whom we took thee for?
Thou art a louse, thou bastard Falconbridge?
Thou baser than a bastard, in whose birth
The very dregs of servitude appears,
Why tell me, liver of some rotten sheep,
After by thy allurements we are brought,
To undertake this course, after thy promises
Of many golden mountains to ensue,
Is this the greatest comfort thou canst give?
Hast thou ensnared our heedless feet with death,
And brought us to the Jibbet of defame,
And now dost bid us shift and save ourselves?
No craven were I sure I should be taken,
I would not stir my feet, until this hand
Had venged me on thee for misguiding us.
Opprobrious villain, stable excrement,
That never dreamest of other manhood yet,
But how to jerk a horse, until my words
Infused into thee resolutions fire.
Controlest thou me for that wherein thyself,
Art only the occasion of mishap?
Hadst thou and they stood to it as well as I,
The day had been our own, and London now,
That laughs in triumph, should have wept in tears
But being backed by such faint hearted slaves
No marvel if the Lion go to wrack,
As though it were not incident to kings,
Somet me to take repulse, mine is no more:
Nor is not for that muddy brain of thine
To tutor me how to digest my loss,
Then fly with those that are already fled,
Or stay behind, and hang all but the head.
O prejudice to Spicings conquering name,
Whose valour even the hacks this sword has made
Upon the flint, and iron bars at Aldgate:
Like mouths will publish whiles the City stands
That I shrunk back? that I was never seen
To show my manly spleen, but with a whip?
I tell thee Falconbridge the least of these,
Do challenge blood before they be appeased,
Away ye scoundrel, tempt not my resolve,
The courage that survives in Falconbridge,
Scorns the encounter of so base a drudge.
By the pure temper of this sword of mine,
By this true flesh and blood that gripes the same,
And by the honour I did win of late,
Against those frosty bearded Citizens,
It shall be tried before we do depart,
Whether accuseth other wrongfully,
Or which of us two is the better man.
I shall but quit the Hangman of a labour,
Yet rather than to be upbraided thus,
The Eagle once will stoop to feed on carrion.
They fight, enter Chub.
Hold if ye be men, if not, hold as ye are: rebels and strong
thieves: I bring you news of a proclamation, the King
hath promised that whosoever can bring the head of Falconbridge,
or Spicing, shall have for his labour a thousand
crowns, what mean you then to swagger? save yourselves.
This proclamations come in happy time,
I will vanquish Falconbridge, and with this sword,
Cut off his head, and bear it to the king,
So not alone shall I be pardoned,
But have the thousand crowns is promised.
This rascal was ordained to save my life,
For now when I have overthrown the wretch,
Even with his head I will yield me to the king,
His princely word is past to pardon me,
And though I were the chief in this rebellion,
Yet this will be a means to make my peace.
O that I knew how to betray them both.
How sayst thou Spi. wilt thou yield thyself?
For I have vowed either alive or dead
To bring thee to King Edward?
And I have vowed the like by thee.
How will these two bad contraries agree?
And I the same by both of you.
Come sir, I will quickly rid you of that care.
And what thou alottest me, shall be my share.
Here comes a miller, help to part the fray,
These are the rebels Falconbridge and Spicing,
The worst of them is worth a thousand crowns.
Mill.
Marry and such a booty would I have,
Submit, submit, it is in vain to strive,
exit. Fal.
Why what art thou?
One that will hamper you,
But what is the other that is fled away?
O miller, that was Falconbridge,
And this is Spicing his companion.
I tell thee Miller thou hast been the means,
To hinder the most charitable deed,
That ever honest Christian undertook.
thou canst bear me witness I had taken
That most notorious rebel but for him,
But I have taken thee, and the world knows,
That Spicing is as bad as who is best.
Why thou mistakest, I am a true subject.
Miller he lies, be sure to hold him fast.
Dost thou accuse me? apprehend him too,
For he is as guilty as any of us.
Miller.
Come you shall both together answer it,
Before my Lord Mayor, and here he comes.
Enter Lord Maior, Iosseline, and other attendants.
Sir Ralph Iosseline, have you ever seen a Prince
more affable than Edward is? what merry talk he had upon
the way.
Doubtless my Lord he will prove a royal King,
But how now what are these?
God save your honour,
Here I present unto you my lord Mayor,
A pair of rebels, whom I did espy
As I was busy grinding at my mill,
And taking them for vagrant idle knaves,
That had beset some true man from his house,
I came to keep the peace, but afterwards,
Found that it was the bastard Falconbridge,
And this his mate together by the ears,
The one, for all that I could do, escaped,
The other standeth at your mercy here.
It is the rebel Spicing.
It is indeed?
I see you are not blind you know me then.
Well miller, thou hast done a subjects part,
And worthily deservest that recompense
Is publicly proclaimed by the King,
But what is this other? I have seen his face,
And as I take it, he is one of them.
Mil.
I must confess, I took them both together,
He aided me to apprehend the rest.
He tells you true my Lord, I am Chub
the Chandler, and I curse the time that ever I
saw their faces, for if they had not been, I had
lived an honest man in mine own country, and
never come to this.
Out rogue, dost thou recant for fear of death?
Aye Mayor, I am he that sought to cut your throat,
And since I have miscarried in the fact,
I will never deny it, do the worst you can.
Bring him away, he shall have martial law,
and at the next tree we do come unto,
be hanged to rid the world of such a wretch,
Miller thy duty is a thousand marks,
which must be shared betwixt thee and this poor
fellow, that did reveal him. And Sirrah, your life
is saved, on this condition, that you hang up Spicing,
how sayst thou, wilt thou do it?

Will I do it? what a question is that?
I would hang him if he were my Father, to save mine own life.
Then when ye have done it, come home to my
house, and there ye truly shall have your reward.
Well sirrah, then thou must be my hangman?
Aye by my troth sir, for fault of a better.
Well, commend me to little Pim, and pray her to redeem
my pawned hose, they lie at the blue Bore for eleven
pence, and if my hostess will have the other odd penny, tell
her she is a damned bawd, and there is no truth in her score.
Take no thought sir for your pawned hose, they are
lousy, and not worth the redeeming.
There is a Constable sticks in my mind, he got my
sword from me, that night I should have killed black Ralph,
if I had lived, I would have been meet with him.
Aye sir, but here is a thing shall take an order for that.
Commend me to black Luce, bouncing Besse, and
lusty Kate, and all the other pretty morsels of man's flesh. Farewell
Pinke and Pinnesse, Fliboate, and Caruell, Turnbull,
and Spittle, I die like a man.
O Captain Spicing, thy vain enticing,
brought me from my trade,
From good candles making, to this pains taking,
a rebel to be made,
Therefore Ned Spicing, to quit thy enticing,
this must be thy hope,
By one of thy fellows, to be led to the Gallows,
to end in a rope.
Enter Hobs the Tanner of Tamworth.
Here enter the Queene and Duchesse with their riding roddes, vnpinning their masks,
Hobs goes forward.
Hobs.
Dudgeon, dost thou hear, look well to Brocke my
mare, drive Dunne and her fair and softly down the hill,
and take heed the thorns tear not the horns of my Cow
hides, as thou goest near the hedges: ha, what sayst thou
knave? is the Bulls hide down? why lay it up again, what
care I? I will meet thee at the style, and help to set all straight,
And yet God help, it is a crooked world, and an unthrifty, for
some that have never a shoe, had rather go barefoot, then by
clout-leather to mend the old, when they can buy no new,
for they have time enough to mend all,
they sit so long between the cup and the wall, well God amend them, God amend
them. Let me see by my executor here, my leather pouch,
what I have taken, what I have spent, what I have gained,
what I have lost, and what I have laid out: my taking is
more than my spending, for here is store left. I have spent but
a groat, a penny for my two Jades, a penny to the poor,
a penny pot of ale, and a penny cake for my man and me, A
dicker of Cowhides cost me
Snails who comes here? mistress Ferries, or mistress what
call ye her? Put up Iohn Hobs, money tempts beauty.
Du.
Well met good fellow, sawest thou not the heart?
Ho.
My heart? God bless me from seeing my heart.
Thy heart? the dear man, we demand the dear.
Hobs.
Do you demand what is dear? marry corn and cow
hides, Mass a good smug lass, well like my daughter Nell,
I had rather then a bend of leather she and I might smutch
together.
Duchesse.
Camest thou not down the would?
Hobs
Yes mistress that I did.
And sawest thou not the dear embossed.
By my hood ye make me laugh, what the dickens
is it love that makes ye prate to me so fondly, by my fathers
soul I would I had jobbed faces with you.
Huntsm.
Why how now Hobs, so saucy with the Duchess
and the Queen?
much Queen I trow, these be but women, and
one of them is like my wench, I would she had her rags, I
would give a load of hear and horns, and a fat of leather,
to match her to some Justice, by the meg hollie.
2 Hunts.
Be silent Tanner, and ask pardon of the Queen,
If ye be the Queen, I cry ye mercy good mistress
Queen.
Q.
No fault my friend, Madam let us take our bows,
And in the standing seek to get a shoot.
Come bend our bows, and bring the herd of dear.
God send ye good standing, and good striking, and fat
flesh, see if all Gentlewomen be not alike when their black
faces be on, I took the Queen, as I am true Tanner, for
mistress Ferris.
Enter Sellenger and Howard in Greene.
Soft, who comes here, more knaves yet?
Sel.
Ho, good fellow, sawest thou not the King?
No good fellow, I saw no king, which king dost
thou ask for.
Why King Edward, what king is there else?
Hob.
There is another King if ye could hit on him, one
Harrie, one Harrie, and by our Lady they say, he is the honester
man of the two.
Sirrah beware you speak not treason.
What if I do?
Then thou wilt be hanged.
A dogs death, I will not meddle with it, for by my
troth I know not when I speak treason, when I do not,
there is such halting betwixt two kings, that a man cannot
go upright, but he shall offend tone of them, I would God
had them both for me.
Well, thou sawest not the king?
No, is he in the country?
He is Hunting here at Drayton Basset.
The devil he is, God bless his mastership: I saw
a woman here that they said was the Queen, she is as like
my daughter, but my daughter is the fairer, as ever I see.
Farewell fellow, speak well of the King,
Enter the king disguisde.
God make him an honest man, I hope that is well
spoken, for by the mouse foot, some give him hard words,
whether he serves them or not, let him look to that, I will meddle
of my cow hide, and let the world slide.
The Devil in a dung cart, how these roisters swarm in
the Country now the King is so near? God liver me from
this, for this looks like a thief, but a man cannot tell amongst
these Courtnoles who is true.
K. Ed.
Holla my friend, good fellow prithee stay,
No such matter, I have more haste of my way.
If thou be a good fellow, let me borrow a word.
My purse thou meanest, I am no good fellow, and I
pray God thou beest not one.
K. Edward.
Why? dost thou not love a good fellow?
No, good fellows be thieves.
K. Edw.
Dost thou think I am one?
Thought is free, and thou art not my ghostly father.
I mean thee no harm.
Who knows that but thyself? I pray God he spy
not my purse.
On my troth I mean thee none.
Upon thy oath I will stay: now, what sayst thou to me?
speak quickly, for my company stays for me beneath at the
next style.
The king is hunting hereabouts, didst thou see his
Majesty?
His majesty, what is that? his horse, or his mare?
Tush, I mean his Grace.
Grace quotha? pray God he have any: which King
dost thou quire for?
Why for King Edward, knowest thou any more
Kings then one?
I know not so many, for I tell thee I know none,
marry I hear of King Edward.
Didst thou see his Highness?
By my hollidame, that is the best term thou gavest
him yet, he is high enough, but he has put poor King Harrie
low enough.
How low hath he put him?
Nay, I cannot tell, but he has put him down, for he has
got the crown, much good do it him with it.
Amen, I like thy talk so well, I would I knew thy
name.
Dost thou not know me?
No.
Then thou knowest nobody: didst never hear of
Iohn Hobs the Tanner of Tamworth.
Not till now I promise thee, but now I like thee
well.
So do not I thee, I fear thou art some out-rider, that
lives by taking of purses here on Bassets heath, but I fear
thee not, for I have wared all my money in Cowhides, at
Colesil market, and my man and my mare are hard by at the
hill foot.
Ki. Ed.
Is that thy Grey mare that is tide at the style with
the hides on her back.
That is Brocke my mare, and there is dunne my nag,
and Dudgeon my man.
There is neither man nor horse, but only one mare.
Gods blue bodkin, has the knave served me so? farewell,
I may loose hides, horns, and mare and all, by prating
with thee.
Tarry man, tarry, they will sooner take my gelding
than thy gray mare, for I have tide mine by her.
That will I see afore I will take your word.
I will bear thee company.
I had as lief go alone.
Enter the two huntsmen againe with the Bowes.
1 hunts.
Now on my troth the Queen shoots passing well.
2 hunts.
So did the Duchess when she was as young.
Age shakes the hand, and shoots both wide and short:
What have they given us?
Six rose nobles just:
The Queen gave four.
1 hunts,
True, and the Duchess twain.
O were we ever so paid for our pain.
Tut, had the King come, as they said he would, he
would have rained upon us showers of gold.
Why he is hunting some where here about, let us
first go drink, and then go seek him out.
Enter King Edward againe, and Hobs.
How sayst thou Tanner, wilt thou take my courser
for thy mare?
Courser callest thou him? so ill mought I fare, thy skittish
Jade will never abide, to carry my leather, my horns
nor hide.
But if I were so mad to scorse, what boot wouldst
thou give me?
Nay boot, that is boot worthy, I look for boot
of thee.
Hob.
Ha, ha, a merry Jig, why man, Brocke my mare
knows ha and Ree, and will stand when I cry ho, and
let me get up and down, and make water when I do.
Ed.
I will give thee a Noble if I like her pace, lay thy Cowhides
in my saddle, and let us jog towards Drayton.
It is out of my way, but I begin to like thee well.
Thou wilt like me better before we do part,
I pray thee tell me, what say they of the king?
Of the kings thou meanest, art thou no blab if I tell
thee?
If the king know it not now, he shall never know it
for me.
Mass they say king Harry is a very advoutry man.
A devout man, and what is king Edward?
He is a Frank Franion, a merry companion and
loves a wench well, they say he has married a poor widow
because she is fair.
Dost thou like him the worse for that?
No by my Feckens, but the better, for though I be
a plain Tanner, I love a fair lass myself.
Prithee tell me, how love they king Edward?
Faith as poor folks love holidays, glad to have
them now and then, but to have them come too often, will
undo them, so to see the king now and then it is comfort, but
every day would beggar us, and I may to thee, we fear we
shall be troubled to lend him money, for we doubt he is but
needy.
Wouldst thou lend him no money if he should need?
By my halidom yes, he shall have half my store,
and I will sell sole leather to help him to more.
Faith whether lovest thou better Harrie or Edward.
Nay, that is counsel, and two may keep it, if one be
away.
Shall I say my conscience? I think Harrie is the true
king.
Art advised of that? Harrie's of the old house of Lancaster,
and that progenity do I love.
K
And thou dost not hate the house of Yorke?
H.
Why no, for I am just a kin to Sutton Wind-mill, I
can grind which way so ere the wind blow, if it be Harrie
I can say well fare Lancaster, if it be Edward I can sing
Yorke, Yorke for my money.
Thou art of my mind, but I say Harrie is the lawful
king, Edward is but an usurper, and a fool and a Coward.
Nay there thou liest, he has wit enough, and courage
enough, dost thou not speak treason?
Aye, but I know to whom I speak it.
Dost thou? well if I were Constable, I should be forsworn
if I set thee not in the stocks for it.
Well let it go no further, for I did serve king Harrie
and I love him best, though now I serve king Edward.
Thou art the arranter knave to speak ill of thy master,
but sirrah what is thy name, what office hast thou? and
what will the king do for thee?
My name is Ned, I am the kings Butler, and he will
do more for me, than for any Noble man in the Court.
The Devil he will, he is the more fool, and so
I will tell him, if ever I see him, and I would I might see him in
my poor house at Tamwoorth.
Go with me to the Court and I will bring thee to the king
and what suit so ever thou have to him, I will warrant thee to
speed.
I have nothing to do at Court, I will home with my Cowhides,
and if the king will come to me he shall be welcome.
Hast thou no suit touching thy trade, to transport hides
or sell leather only in a certain circuit, or about Bark, or
such like, to have Letters patents?
By the Mass and the Matins I like not those Patens,
sirrah they that have them, do as the Priests did in old
time, buy and sell the sins of the people, so they make the
king believe they mend what is amiss, and for money they
make the thing worse than it is, there is another thing in it too,
the more is the pity?
What pity Iohn Hobs? I prithee say all.
Faith it is pity that one subject should have in his hand
that might do good to many through the land.
Sayst thou me so Tanner? well let us cast lots whether
thou shalt go with me to Draiton, or I go home with thee
to Tamwoorth.
Lot me no lotting, I will not go with thee, if thou wilt go
with me, cause thou art my Lieges man (and yet I think he
has many honester) thou shalt be welcome to Iohn Hobs,
thou shalt be welcome to beef and bacon, and perhaps a
bag pudding, and my daughter Nell shall pop a possel upon
thee when thou ghost to bed.
Here is my hand, I will but go and see the king served, and
and I will be at home as soon as thyself.
Dost thou hear me Ned? if I shall be thy host,
Make haste thou art best for fear thou kiss the Post.
Enters How and Selling.
Farewell Iohn Hobs, the honest true Tanner
I see plain men by observation,
Of things that alter in the change of times,
Do gather knowledge, and the meanest life,
Proportioned with content sufficiency,
Is merrier than the mighty state of kings.
How now? what news bring ye sirs,
Where is the Queen?
Her Highness and your mother my dread Lord,
Are both invited by Sir Humphrey Bows,
Where they intend to feast and lodge this night,
And do expect your Graces presence there.
Tom Sellinger I have other business;
Astray from you and all my other train,
I met a Tanner, such a merry mate,
So frolic, and so full of good conceit,
That I have given my word to be his guest,
Because he knows me not to be the king:
Good Cousin Howard grudge not at the jest,
But greet my mother and my wife from me,
Bid them be merry, I must have my humour,
Let them both sup and sleep when they see time,
Commend me kindly to Sir Humphrey Bows,
Tell him at breakfast I will visit him.
This night Tom Sellinger and I must feast
With Hobs the Tanner, there plain Ned and Tom,
No king nor Sellinger for a thousand pound.
Enter a Messenger booted with letters, and kneeling giues them to the king.
The Queen and Duchess will be discontent,
Because his Highness comes not to the feast.
Sir Humphrey Bows may take the most conceit,
But what is the end, the king will have his pleasure?
giues his purse
King.

Good news my boys, Harrie the sixth is dead, peruse
that letter: sirrah, drink you that,
giues his purse

and stay not but post back again for life, and thank my Brother
Gloster for his news, commend me to him, I will see him
tomorrow night. How like ye it sirs?
Exit Messenger.
O passing well my Liege, you may be merry for these
happy news.
The merrier with our host the Tanner Tom,
My Lord take you that letter to the Ladies,
Bid them be merry with that second course,
And if we see them not before we go,
Pray them to journey easily after us,
We will post to London, so good night my Lord.
Enter Hobs and his daughter Nel.
Come Nell, come daughter, is your hands and your
face washed?
Nell.
Aye forsooth Father.
Ye must be cleanly I tell ye, for there comes a
Courtnole hither tonight, the kings masterships Butler,
Ned, a spruce youth, but beware ye be not in love nor overtaken
by him, for Courtiers be slippery lads.
Nell
No forsooth father.
Gods blessing on thee, that half years schooling at
Liechfield, was better to thee than house and land, it has put
such manners into thee, I forsooth and no forsooth at every
word, ye have a clean smock on, I like your apparel well,
is supper ready?
Aye forsooth father.
Have we a good barley bag pudding, a piece of fat
Bacon, a good cow heel, a hard cheese, and a brown loaf.
All this forsooth, and more, ye shall have a posset,
but indeed the rats have spoiled your hard cheese.
Now the devil choke them, so they have eat me
a farthing candle the other night.
within.
Dudgeon
What master master?
How now knave, what sayst thou Dudgeon?
Here is guests come, where is Hellen?
What guests be they?
A courtnole, one Ned the kings Butcher he says,
and his friends too.
Exit Nell.
Enter King Edward and Sellenger.
Ned the kings butcher? ha, ha, the Kings butler,
take their horses, and walk them, and bid them come
near house, Nell lay the cloth, and clap supper on the
board.

Mass here is Ned indeed and another misproud Ruffian,
Welcome Ned, I like thy honesty, thou keepest promise.
In faith honest Tanner, I will ever keep promise with thee,
prithee bid my friend welcome.
By my troth ye are both welcome to Tamwoorth:
friend I know not your name.
My name is Tom Twist?
Believe ye that list: but ye are welcome both, and
I like ye both well but for one thing.
What is that?
Nay that I keep to myself, for I sigh to see and
think, that pride brings many a one to exstruction.
Prithee tell us thy meaning.
Troth I doubt ye never came truly by all these
gay rags. It is not your bare wages and thin fees ye
have of the King, can keep ye thus fine, but either ye must
rob the king privily, or his subjects openly, to maintain
your prodigality.
Thinkest thou so Tanner?
Enter Nell and Dudgeon, with a Table couered.
It is no matter what I think, come let us go to supper,
What Nell, what Dudgeon, where be these folks?
Daughter bid my friends welcome.
Ye are welcome Gentlemen as I may say.
I thank ye fair maid.
kisse her both.
A pretty wench by my faith.
How likest her Ned?
I like her so well, I would ye would make me
your son in law.
And I like thee so well Ned, that hadst thou an occupation,
for service is no heritage, a young courtier, an old
beggar, I could find in my heart to cast her away upon thee,
and if thou wilt forsake the court and turne Tanner, or bind
thyself to a shoemaker in Liechfield, I will give thee twenty
nobles ready money, with my Nell, and trust thee with a
Dicker of leather, to set up thy trade.
Ned he offers ye fair, if ye have the grace to take it.
He does indeed Tom, and hereafter I will tell him more.
Come sit down to supper: go to Nell, no more sheeps
eyes, ye may be caught I tell ye, these be licorice lads.
Nel.
I warrant ye father, yet in truth Ned is a very proper
man, and the other may serve, but Neds a pearl in mine eye.
Daughter, call Dudgeon and his fellows, we will have
a three men song, to make our guests merry.
Nails what courtnoles are ye? you will? neither talk nor eat,
What news at the court? do somewhat for your meat.
Heavy news there, King Henrie is dead.
That is light news and merry for your master king
Edward.
But how will the commons take it?
Well, God be with good King Henrie, faith the
Commons will take it as a common thing, deaths an honest
man, for he spares not the king: for as one comes, another is
taken away, and seldom comes the better, that is all we say.
Sellenger.
Shrewdly spoken Tanner by my fay.
Come fill me a cup of mother Whetstones ale,
I may drink to my friends, and drive down my tale.
Here Ned and Tom I drink to ye: and yet if I come to
the court, I doubt you will not know me.
Yes, Tom shall be my surety Tanner, I will know
thee.
If thou dost not Ned, by my troth I beshrew
I drink to my wife that may be.
Faith Ned thou mayst live to make her a Lady.
Tush, her father offers nothing, having no more children
but her.
I would I had not, condition she had all. But I
have a knave to my son, I remember him by you, even such
an unthrift as one of you two, that spends all on gay clothes
and new fashions, and no work will down with him, that
I fear he will be hanged, God bless you from a better fortune,
yet you wear such filthy breeches, Lord, were not this
a good fashion? yes, and would save many a fair penny.
Let that pass, and let us hear your song.
Agreed, agreed, come, sol, sol, sol, fa, fa, fa, say Dudgeon.
Here they Sing the threemans Song.
UNK

Agencourt, Agencourt, know ye not Agencourt,
Where the English slew and hurt,
all the French foemen:
With our Guns and bills brown,
O the French were beaten down,
Morrys pikes and bowmen, etc.
Well sung good fellows, I would the King
heard ye.
So would I faith, I would strain a note for him:
Come take away, and let us to bed, ye shall have clean
sheets Ned, but they be course, good strong hemp, of my
daughters own spinning, and I tell thee, your Chamber pot
must be a fair horn, a badge of our occupation, for we buy
no bending pewter, nor bending earth.
No matter Hobs, we will not go to bed.
What then?
Even what thou wilt, for it is near day.
Tanner Gramercies for our hearty cheer,
If ever it be thy chance to come to court,
Enquire for me Ned the kings Butler,
Or Tom of the kings chamber my companion,
And see what welcome we will give thee there.
I have heard of courtiers have said as much as you,
and when they have been tried, would not bid their friends
drink.
We are none such, let our horses be brought out,
For we must away, and so with thanks farewell.
Farewell to ye both, commend me to the king, and
tell him I would have been glad to have seen his worship
here.
exit.
Come Tom for London, horse, and hence away.
Enter the Vice-admirall and the Captaine of the Ile of Wight, with Falconbridge bound,
the headsman bearing the axe before him.
Mor.
Thomas Neuill, yet hast thou gracious time,
Of dear repentance, now discharge thy conscience,
Lay open thine offences to the world,
That we may witness thou dost die a Christian.
Why Sir Harrie Moorton have you arraigned,
Condemned, and brought me to this place,
Of bloody execution, and now ask,
If I be guilty, therein doth appear,
What justice you have used, call you this law?
Cap.
Thou dost mistake our meaning Falconbridge,
We do not ask as being ignorant,
Of thy transgression, but as urging thee,
To hearty sorrow for thy vile misdeeds,
That heaven may take compassion on thy soul,
How charitable you would seem to be?
I fear anon you will say it is for love,
You bind me thus, and bring me to the block,
And that of mere affection you are moved,
To cut my head off, cunning policy:
Such butchers as yourselves do never want,
A colour to excuse your slaughterous minds.
We butcher thee? canst thou deny thyself,
But thou hast been a pirate on the sea?
Canst thou deny but with the commonalty
Of Kent and Essex, thou didst rise in arms,
And twice assault the City London, where
Thou twice didst take repulse, and since that time,
Canst thou deny, that being fled from thence,
Thou joindest in confederacy with France,
And camest with them to burn Southhampton here,
Are these no faults thou shouldest so much presume,
To clear thyself, and lay thy blood on us?
Hear me Sir Harrie, since we must dispute.
Dispute uncivil wretch, what needs dispute,
Did not the Vice-admiral here, and I
Encountering with the Navy of the French,
Attach thee in a ship of Normandie,
And wilt thou stand upon thine innocence?
Dispatch, thou art as rightfully condemned
As ever rebel was. And thou shalt die.
I make no question of it, I must die,
But let me tell you how I scorn your threats,
So little do I reckon of the name,
Of ugly death, as were he visible,
I would wrestle with him for the victory,
And tug the slave, and tear him with my teeth,
But I would make him stoop to Falconbridge,
And for this life, this paltry brittle life,
This blast of wind which you have laboured so,
By juries, sessions, and I know not what,
To rob me off, is of so vile repute:
That to attain that I might live mine age,
I would not give the value of a point,
You cannot be so cruel to afflict,
But I will be as forward to endure.
Go to, leave off these idle braves of thine:
And think upon thy souls health Falconbridge.
Submit and ask forgiveness of thy King.
What King?
Why Edward of the house of Yorke.
He is no King of mine, he does usurp,
And if the destinies had given me leave,
I would have told him so before this time,
And pulled the Diadem from off his head.
Thou art a traitor, stop thy traitors mouth.
I am no traitor Lancaster is King,
If that be treason to defend his right,
What is it for them that do imprison him?
If insurrection to advance his sceptre,
What fault is theirs that step into his throne?
O God, thou pouredest the balm upon his head,
Can that pure unction be wiped off again?
Thou once did crown him in his infancy,
Shall wicked men now in his age depose him?
O pardon me, if I expostulate,
More than becomes a sinful man to do,
England I fear thou wilt thy folly rue.
Thou triflest time, and dost but weary us
With dilatory questions, make an end,
Indeed the end of all kingdoms must end,
Honour and riches, all must have an end,
And he that thinks he doth the most prevail,
His head once laid, there resteth but a tale:
Come fellow, do thy office, what methinks,
Thou lookest as if thy heart were in thy hose,
Pull up thy spirits, it will be quickly done,
A blow or two at most will serve the turne.
Head.
Forgive me sir your death,
Forgive thee? I and give thee too,
Hold, there is some few crowns for thee to drink,
Tush weep not man, give losers leave to plain,
And yet In faith my loss I count a gain,
First let me see, is thy axe sharpe enough,
I am indifferent, well in Gods name to this gear,
Come and yield your head gently to the block,
Gently sayst thou? thou wilt not use me so:
But all is one for that, what strength hast thou:
Throughout the whole proportion of thy limbs,
Revoke it all into thy manly arms,
And spare me not, I am a Gentleman,
A Neuill and a Falconbridge beside,
Then do thy work, thou mayst get credit by it,
For if thou dost not, I must tell thee plain,
I shall be passing angry when it is done.
I warrant you sir, none in the land shall
do it better.
Why now thou pleasest me, England farewell,
And old Plantagenet, if thou survive,
Think on my love, although it did not thrive.
He is led forth.
As for his head, it shall be sent with speed
To London, and the promised reward,
Allotted for the apprehending him,
Be given unto the poor of Southhampton here:
How say you Captain, are you so content?
With all my heart, but I do marvel much
We hear not of the messenger we sent,
To give the King intelligence of this?
M.
Take truce with your surmises, here he comes.
Fellow it seems that thou art slow of gate,
Or very negligent in our affairs,
What says King Edward to our service done?
To answer you directly and as briefly,
I spoke not with him, for when I was come,
To Drayton Basset, where they said he was,
It was told me there, that even the night before,
His highness in all haste, was rid towards London:
The occasion, Henries death within the Tower,
Of which the people are in sundry tales,
Some thinking he was murdered, some again
Supposing that he died a natural death.
Well how so ever, that concerns not us,
We have to do with no man's death, but his,
That for his treason here hath lost his head.
Come let us give direction as before,
And afterwards make back unto the shore.
Enter the Lord Maior in his scarlet gowne, with a guilded rapier by his side.
Enter M. Shoare, and Mistresse Shoare.
Ma.
Aye marry Crosbie this befits thee well,
But some will marvel that with a scarlet gown,
I wear a gilded rapier by my side:
Why let them know, I was knighted in the field,
For my good service to my Lord the king,
And therefore I may wear it lawfully,
In Court, in City, or at any royal banquet.
But soft Iohn Crosbie, thou forgetst thyself,
And dost not mind thy birth and parentage,
Where thou wast born, and whence thou art derived,
I do not shame to say, the Hospital
Of London was my chiefest fostering place,
There did I learn, that near unto a Cross,
Commonly called Cow Cross near Islington,
An honest Citizen did chance to find me,
A poor Shoemaker by trade he was,
And doubting of my Christendom or no,
Called me according to the place he found me,
Iohn Crosby, finding me so by a Cross.
The Masters of the Hospital at further years,
Bound me apprentice to the Grocers trade,
Wherein God pleased to bless my poor endeavours
That by his blessings I am come to this.
The man that found me I have well requited,
And to the Hospital my fostering place,
An hundred pound a year I give for ever,
Likewise in memory of me Iohn Crosby
In Bishopsgate street a poor house have I built,
And as my name have called it Crosbie house,
And when as God shall take me from this life,
In little S. Hellens will I be buried:
All this declares, I boast not of my birth,
But found on earth, I must return to earth.
But God for his pity I forget myself,
The king my sovereign Lord will come anon,
And nothing is as yet in readiness.
Where are ye Cousin Shoar? nay where is mistress Shoare?
O I am sorry that she stays so long,
See what it is to be a widower,
And lack a Lady Mayoress in such need.
O are ye come? welcome good Cousin Shoare,
But you indeed are welcome gentle Niece.
Needs must you be our Lady Mayoress now,
And help us, or else we are shamed for ever,
Good Cousin still thus am I bold with you.
With all my heart my Lord, and thank ye too,
That you do please to use our homely help.
Why see how neatly she bestirs herself,
And in good sooth makes housewifery to shine?
Ah had my Lady Mayoress lived to see
Fair mistress Shoar thus beautify her house,
She would have been not little proud thereof.
Iane.
Well my Lord Mayor I thank you for that flout,
But let his Highness now come when he please,
All things are in a perfect readiness.
They bring foorth a Table, and serue in the Banquet.
The more am I beholding Niece to you,
That take such pains to save our credit now:
My servants are so slack, his Majesty,
Might have been here before we were prepared,
But peace here comes his Highness.
The Trumpets sound, and enters king Edward, How. Sellinger, and the traine.
Now my Lord Mayor, have we not kept our word?
Because we could not stay to dine with you:
At our departure hence, we promised,
First food we tasted at our back return,
Should be with you, still yielding hearty thanks,
To you and all our London Citizens,
For the great service which you did perform
Against that bold faced rebel Falconbridge.
My gracious Lord what then we did,
We did account no more than was our duty,
Thereto obliged by true Subjects zeal,
And may he never live that not defends,
The honour of his king and Country:
Next thank I God, it likes your Majesty,
To bless my poor roof with your royal presence,
To me could come no greater happiness.
Thanks good Lord Mayor, but where is my
Lady Mayoress, I hope that she will bid us welcome
too?

She would my Liege, and with no little joy,
Had she but lived to see this blessed day,
But in her steed this Gentlewoman here,
My Cousins wife, that office will supply:
How say you mistress Shoare?
How? mistress Shoare? what not his wife
That did refuse his knighthood at our hand?
The very same my Lord and here he is.
What M. Shoare, we are your debtor still,
But by Gods grace intend not so to die:
And Gentlewoman, now before your face,
I must condemn him of discourtesy,
Yea, and of great wrong that he hath offered you,
For you had been a Lady but for him,
He was in fault, trust me he was to blame,
To hinder virtue of her due by right.
My gracious Lord my poor and humble thoughts,
Never had an eye to such unworthiness,
And though some hold it as a Maxim,
That women's minds by nature do aspire,
Yet how both God and M. Shoare I thank
For my continuance in this humble state,
And likewise how I love your Majesty:
For gracious sufferance that it may be so:
Heaven bear true record of my inward soul,
Now it remains, on my Lord Mayors behalf,
I do such duty as becommeth me,
To bid your Highness welcome to his house,
Were welcomes virtue powerful in my word,
The king of England should not doubt thereof.
Ki.
Nor do I mistress Shoar, now my Lord Mayor
Edward dare boldly swear that he is welcome,
You spake the word well, very well in faith,
But mistress Shoare her tongue hath gilded it,
Tell me Cousin Howard and Tom Sellinger,
Had ever Citizen so fair a wife?
Of flesh and blood I never did behold,
A woman every way so absolute.
Nor I my Liege, were Sellinger a king,
He could afford Shoares wife to be a Queen.
Why how now Tom? Nay rather how now Ned?
What change is this? proud, saucy roving eye,
What whisperest in my brain, that she is fair?
I know it, I see it, fairer than my Queen?
Wilt thou maintain it, ? what and thou traitor heart,
Wouldst thou shake hands in this conspiracy?
Down rebel, back base treacherous conceit,
I will not credit thee, my Besse is fair,
And Shoares wife but a blouse, compared to her,
Come let us sit, here will I take my place.
And my Lord Mayor, fill me a bowl of wine,
That I may drink to your elected Mayoress,
And M. Shoare tell me how like you this,
My Lord Mayor makes your wife his Lady Mayoress?
So well my Lord as better cannot be,
All in the honour of your Majesty.
The Lord Maior bringes a bowle of wine, and humbly on his knees offers it to the king.
Nay drink to us Lord Mayor, we will have it so,
Go to I say, you are our Taster now,
Drink then, and we will pledge ye.
All health and happiness to my Sovereign.
he drinkes
He drinkes, and the Trumpets sound, then wine is brought to her, and shee offers to drinke.
Enter a Messenger with letters.
Fill full our cup, and Lady Mayoress,
This full carouse we mean to drink to you,
And you must pledge us, but yet no more,
Then you shall please to answer us withal.
Nay you must drink to somebody, yea Tom to thee?
Well sirrah, see you do her right:
For Edward would, O would to God he might.
Yet idle eye, wilt thou be gadding still?
Keep home, keep home, for fear of further ill.
How now? letters to us, from whom?
My Liege, this from the Duke of Burgundie.
And this is from the Constable of France.
He opens the letter and reades.
He seemes to reade the letters but glaunces on Mistresse Shoare in his reading.
He startes from the Table.
What news from them?
To claim our right in France?
And they will aid us, yea, will ye so?
But other aid must aid us ere we go.
A woman's aid that hath more power than France
To crown us or to kill us with mischance.
If chaste resolve be to such beauty tied,
Sue how thou canst, thou wilt be still denied,
Her husband hath deserved well of thee,
Tut, love makes no respect where ever it be,
Thou wrongest thy Queen: Every enforced ill,
Must be endured where beauty seeks to kill:
Thou seemest to read, only to blind their eyes,
Who knowing it, thy folly would despise.
Thanks for my cheer Lord Mayor, I am not well,
I know not how to take these news. This fit I mean,
That hath bereft me of all reason clean.
God shield my Sovereign.
Nay nothing I shall be well anon.
Ian.
May it please your Highness sit.
Aye, fain with thee, nay we must needs be gon,
Cousin Howard convey these letters to our Council,
And bid them give us their advice of them,
Thanks for my cheer Lord Mayor, farewell to you
And farewell mistress Shoare, La. Mayoress I should say,
It is you have caused our parting at this time.
Farewell M. Shoare, farewell to all,
We will meet once more to make amends for this.
Exeunt King. How. and Sel.
O God here to be ill?
My house to cause my Sovereigns discontent?
Cousin Shoare I had rather spent.
Content yourself my Lord kings have their humours,
The letters did contain somewhat no doubt,
That did displease him.
So my Lord think I,
But by Gods help he will be well again.
I hope so too, well Cousin for your pains,
I can but thank ye, chiefly you fair Niece,
At night I pray ye both come sup with me,
How say ye? will ye?
Yes my Lord we will.
So for this time we humbly take our leave.
Exeunt Shoare and his wife.
O how the sudden sickness of my Liege,
Afflicts my soul with many passions?
His Highness did intend to be right merry,
And God he knows how it would glad my soul,
If I had seen his Highness satisfied
With the poor entertainment of his Mayor,
His humble vassal, whose lands, whose life and all
Are, and in duty must be always his.
Well, God I trust will bless his Graces health,
And quickly ease him of his sudden fit.
Take away there ho, rid this place,
And God of heaven bless my Sovereigns Grace.
Exit
Enter two prentizes preparing the Goldsmiths Shop with plate.
1. Pren.
Sirrah Iacke, come set out.
2. Pr.
You are the elder Prentice, I pray you do
it, lest my mistress talk with you when she
comes down, what is it a clock?
1. P.
Six by All Hallows.
2. Pre.
Lying and stealing will bring ye to the
Gallows. Is here all the plate?
Aye that must serve today.
Where is the weights and balance?
All ready, hark my mistress comes.
Exit 1. Pren.
Enter Mistresse Shoare with her worke in her hand.
Sir Boy, while I attend the shop myself,
See if the workman have dispatched the Cup,
How many ounces weighs it?
2 Pr.
Twenty forsooth.
What said the Gentleman to the fashion?
2. P.
He told my Master, I was not within.
I.
Go Sir make haste, your M. is in Cheapside:
Take heed ye were best your loitering be not spied.
The boy departs, and shee sits sowing in her shop.
Enter the king disguised.
Well fare a Case to put a king in yet,
Good Mistress Shoar this doth your love procure,
This shape is secret, and I hope it is sure,
The Watermen that daily use the Court,
And see me often, knew me not in this,
At Lyon key I landed in their view,
Yet none of them took knowledge of the king,
If any gallant strive to have the wall,
I will yield it gently: Soft here must I turne,
Here is Lumbard street, and here is the Pelican,
And there is the Phoenix in the Pelicans nest,
O rare perfection of rich natures work,
Bright twinkling spark of precious Diamond,
Of greater value than all India,
Were there no Sun, by whose kind lovely heat
The earth brings forth those stones we hold of prize,
Her radiant eyes dejected to the ground,
Would turne each pebble to a Diamond.
Gaze greedy eyes and be not satisfied,
Till you find rest, where hearts desire doth bide.
What would you buy Sir that you look on here?
Your fairest Jewel, be it not too dear.
First how this Sapphire mistress that you wear?
Sir it is right that will I warrant ye,
No Jeweller in London shows a better.
No, nor the like, you praise it passing well.
Do I? no, if some Lapidary had the stone, more
would not buy it than I can demand. It is as well set I think
as ever ye saw.
It is set indeed upon the fairest hand, that ever I saw.
You are disposed to jest, but for the value, his majesty
might wear it.
King Ed.
Might he In faith?
Sir it is the ring I mean.
I meant the hand.
You are a merry man,
I see you come too cheap, and not to buy.
Yet he that offers fairer than I will do, shall hardly
find a partner in his bargain.
Perhaps in buying things of so small value?
Rather because no wealth can purchase it.
He were too fond, that would so highly prize,
The thing which once was given away for love.
His hap was good that came so easily by it.
The gift so small, that asked, who could deny it?
O she gave more, that such a gift then gave,
Than earth ever had, or world shall ever have.
His hap is ill, should it be as you say,
That having given him what you rate so high,
And yet is still the poorer by the match.
That easily proves he doth not know the worth.
Yet having had the use of it so long,
It rather proves you over-rate the thing,
He being a chapman, as it seems you are.
Indeed none should adventure on the thing,
That is to be purchased only by a King.
If kings love that, which no man else respects,
It may be so, else do I see small reason,
A king should take delight in such course stuff.
Lives there a king, that would not give his crown,
To purchase such a kingdom of content?
In my conceit, right well you ask that question,
The world I think contains not such fond king.
Why mistress Shoare, I am the man will do it.
It is proudly spoke, although I not believe it.
Were he King Edward that should offer it.
But shall I have it?
Upon what acquaintance?
Why since I saw thee last.
Where was that?
At the Lord Mayors, in the presence of the King.
I have forgotten that I saw you there,
For there were many that I took small note of.
Of me you did, and we had some discourse.
You are deceived Sir, I had then no time,
For my attendance on his majesty.
I will gage my hand unto your hand of that,
Look well upon me.
He discouers himselfe.
(she kneeles
Iane.
Now I beseech you let this strange disguise,
Excuse my boldness to your majesty.
What ever we possess is all your highness,
Only mine honour, which I cannot grant,
Only thy love (bright angel) Edward craves,
For which I thus adventured to see thee.
Enter maister Shoare.
But here comes one, to whom I only gave it,
And he I doubt will say you shall not have it.
Am I so soon cut off? O spite.
How say ye mistress, will ye take my offer?
Indeed I cannot sir afford it so
You will not be offered more fairly I believe.
Indeed you offer like a Gentleman.
But yet the Jewel will not so be left.
Sir, if you bid not too much under-foot.
I will drive the bargain betwixt you and my wife.
King aside.
Ki.
Alas good Shoare, myself dare answer no.
Nothing can make thee such a Jewel forgo.
She saith you shall be too much looser by it.
See in the row then, if you can speed better,
See many worlds arrow, affords not like.
As he goes forth, Shoare lookes earnestly, and perceiues it is the king, whereat he seemeth
greatly discontented.
Why lookest thou Mat? knowest thou the gentleman?
Alas what ails thee that thou lookest so pale?
What cheer sweet heart? alas, where hast thou been?
Nay nothing Iane, know you the Gentleman?
Not I sweet heart, alas why do you ask?
Is he thine enemy?
Shore.
I cannot tell,
What came he here to cheapen at our shop?
This Jewel love.
Well I pray God he came for nothing else.
Why who is it? I do suspect him Shoare.
That you demand thus doubtfully of me.
Ah Iane, it is the King.
The king? what then? is it for that thou sighest?
Were he a thousand kings thou hast no cause
To fear his presence, or suspect my love.
I know I have not, see he comes again.
The king enters againe, muffled in his cloke.
Still is my hinderer there? be patient heart,
Some fitter season must assuage the smart,
What will ye take that mistress which I offered ye?
I come again sir, as one willing to buy.
Indeed I cannot sir, I pray ye
Deal with my husband, hear what he will say.
I will sell it worth your money, if you please,
I pray ye come near sir.
I am too near already, thou so near.
Nay, nay, she knows what I did offer her,
And in good sadness, I can give no more,
So fare ye well sir, I will not deal with you.
You are deceived (sweet heart) it is not the king,
Think you he would adventure thus alone?
I do assure thee Iane it is the king.
O God, betwixt the extremes of love and fear,
In what a shivering ague sits my soul?
Keep we our treasure secret, yet so fond,
As set so rich a beauty as this is,
In the wide view of every gazers eye.
O traitor beauty, O deceitful good,
That dost conspire against thyself and love,
No sooner got, but wished again of others,
In thine own self, injurious to thyself,
O rich poor portion, thou good evil thing?
How many joyful woes still dost thou bring,
Ia.
I pray thee come, sweet love, and sit by me,
No King that is under heaven I love like thee.
Enter sir Humphrey Bowes, and master Aston, being two Iustices, Harrie Grudgen, Robert Goodfellow,
and Iohn Hobs the Tanner.
Bows.
Neighbours and friends, the cause that you are called,
Concerns the Kings most excellent majesty,
Whose right you know by his progenitors,
Unto the Crown and sovereignty of France,
Is wrongfully detained by the French,
Which to revenge and royally regain.
His Highness means to put himself in Arms,
And in his princely person to conduct
His warlike troupes against the enemy.
But for his Coffers are unfurnished,
Through civil discord and intestine war,
(Whose bleeding scars our eyes may yet behold)
He prays his faithful loving subjects help,
To further this his just great enterprise.
So the feck and meaning, whereby as it
were of all your long purgation Sir Humphrey
is no more in some respect, but the king wants money,
and would have some of his Comentie.
Bo.
Tanner you rightly understand the matter.
Enter Lord Howard.
Ast.
Note this withal, where his dread Majesty,
(Our lawful sovereign, and most royal king)
Might have exacted or imposed a Tax,
Or borrowed greater sums than we can spare,
(For all we have is at his dread command, )
He doth not so, but mildly doth entreat
Our kind benevolence, what we will give,
With willing minds towards this mighty charge.
Which to receive, his noble Counsellor
And kinsman the Lord Howard here is come.
Now good Sir Humphrey Bows and M. Aston,
Have ye declared the kings most gracious pleasure?
We have my Lord.
His Highness will not force.
As loan or tribute, but will take your gift,
In grateful part and recompense your love.
B.
To show my love, though money now be scarce,
A hundredth pound I will give his Majesty.
It is well Sir Humphrey.
Aston.
Aye a hundredth Marks.
Thanks M. Aston, you both show your love,
Now ask your neighbours what they will bestow?
Bow.
Come M. Hadland your benevolence.
Had.
O good Sir Humphrey do not rack my purse,
You know my state I lately sold my land.
Then you have money, let the king have part.
Aye, do M. Hadland do, they say you sold a foul deal
of dirty land for fair gold and silver, let the king have some
now while you have it, for if ye be forborne a while, all
will be spent, for he that cannot keep land that lies fast, will
have much a do to hold money, it is slippery ware, it is melting
ware, it is melting ware.
Gramercy Tanner.
Say, what shall we have?
Hadland.
My forty shillings.
Robert Goodfellow.
I know you will be liberal to the king.
Good.
O M. Aston be content I pray ye,
You know my charge, my household very great,
And my housekeeping holds me very bare:
Threescore uprising, and down lying Sir,
Spends no small store of victuals in a year,
Two brace of Greyhounds xx. couple of hounds,
And then my Jades devour a deal of Corn,
My Christmas cost and then my friends that come
Amounts to charge, I am Robin Goodfellow,
That welcomes all and keeps a frolic house,
I have no money pray ye pardon me.
Here is a plain Tanner can teach ye how to thrive
Keep fewer dogs, and then ye may feed men:
Yet feed no idle men, it is needles charge,
You that on Hounds and hunting mates will spend,
No doubt but something to your king you will send.
My brace of Angels, by my troth that is all.
Mass and it is well thy Curs have left so much,
I thought they would have eaten up thy house and land ere
this.
Now Harrie Grudgen.
Grudgen.
What would you have of me? Money I have
none, and I will sell no stock, here is old polling, subsidy, fifteen
soldiers, and to the poor, and ye may have your will, you will
soon shut me out a door.
Hear ye worships, will ye let me answer my
neighbour Grudgen? By my halidom Harry Grudgen,
thou art but a grumbling, grudging Churl, thou hast two
ploughs going, and near a Cradle rocking, thou hast a peck
of money, go to, turne thee loose, thou wilt go to law with the
Vicar for a tithe goose, and wilt not spare the king four or
five pound.
Gep goodman Tanner, are ye so round? your
prolicateness has brought your son to the Gallows almost,
you can be frank of an other man's cost.
Thou art no honest man to twit me with my son,
he may out live thee yet for aught that he has done, my
son is in the gaol, is he the first has been there, if thou
wert a man, as thou art a beast, I would have thee by the ears.
Weeping.
Friend thou wantest nurture, to upbraid a Father
With a sons fault, we sit not here for this;
What is thy benevolence towards his majesty?
His benegligence? hang him he will not give
a penny willingly.
Gr.
I care not much to cast away forty pence.
Out grudging peasant, base ill nurtured groom,
Is this the love thou bearest unto the king?
Gentlemen take notice of the slave,
And if he fault let him be soundly plagued?
Now frolic Tanner, what wilt thou afford?
Twenty old Angels and a score of hides, if that be
too little, take twenty Nobles more, while I have it my king
shall spend of my store.
The king shall know thy loving liberal heart.
Shall he in faith, I thank ye heartily, but hear ye
Gentleman you come from the Court?
I do.
Lord how does the king, and how does Ned the
kings Butler, and Tom of his Chamber, I am sure ye know
them?
They do very well.
For want of better guess they were at my house one
night.
I know they were.
They promised me a good turne for kissing my daughter
Nell, and now I have occasion to try them, my son is in
Dybell here in Caperdochie, in the Gaol for peeping into another
man's purse, and outstep the king be miserable, he is
like to totter, can that same Ned the Butler do anything
with the king?
More than myself, or any other Lord.
A halter he can, by my troth ye rejoice my heart
to hear it.
Come to the Court I warrant thy sons life,
Ned will save that, and do thee greater good.
I will wean Brocke my mares foal, and come up to the
king, and it shall go hard but two fat hens for your pains
I will bring.
My Lord this fellow gladly now will give,
five pounds so you will pardon his rude speech.
For five and five I cannot brooke the beast.
Grud.
What gives the Tanner, I am as well able as he?
He gives ten pound.
Take twenty then of me.
I pray ye my Lord forgive my rough heaved speech
I know I meant no hurt unto my Liege.
Let us entreat your Lordships patience.
I do at your request remit the offence,
So let us depart, here is all we have to do.
Ast.
It is for this time and place my Lord, sirrah bring your money.
What have ye saved now goodman Grudgen, by
your hinching and your pinching, not the worth of a black
pudding.
Enter mistris Shoare, and mistris Blage.
M. Bla.
Now mistress Shoare, what urgent cause is that,
Which made ye send for me in such great haste? I promise ye
it made me half afraid, you were not well.
Trust me, nor sick, nor well, but troubled still with
the disease I told ye: here is is another letter from the King,
was never poor soul so importuned.
M. Blage.
But will no answer serve?
No mistress Blage, no answer will suffice.
He, he it is, that with a violent siege
Labours to break into my plighted faith,
O what am I, he should so much forget
His Royal State, and his High Majesty?
Still doth he come disguised to my house,
And in most humble terms bewrays his love,
My husband grieves, alas how can he choose,
Fearing the dispossessment of his Iane?
And when he cannot come (for him) he writes,
Offering beside incomparable gifts,
And all to win me to his princely will.
Believe me M. Shoare, a dangerous case,
And every way replete with doubtful fear,
If you should yield, your virtuous name were foiled,
And your beloved husband made a scorn.
And if not yield, its likely that his love,
Which now admires ye, will convert to hate,
And who knows not a princes hate is death?
Yet I will not be she shall counsel ye,
Good mistress Shoare do what ye will for me.
Then counsel me what I were best to do:
M. B.
You know his greatness can dispense with ill,
Making the sin seem lesser by his worth,
And you yourself, your children and your friends,
Be all advanced to worldly dignity,
And this worlds pomp you know is a goodly thing.
Yet I will not be she shall counsel ye,
Good mistress Shoare do what ye will for me.
Alas I know that I was bound by oath,
To keep the promise that I made at first,
And virtue lives, when pomp consumes to dust.
So we do say, dishonour is no shame,
When slander does not touch the offender's name,
You shall be folded in a princes arms,
Whose beck disperseth even the greatest harms,
Many that sit themselves in high degree,
Will then be glad to stoop, and bend the knee,
And who is it, having plenty in the hand,
Never commanded, but doth still command,
That cannot work in such excess of things,
To quit the guilt, one small transgression brings?
Here do I live, although in mean estate,
Yet with a conscience free from all debate,
Where higher footing may in time procure,
A sudden fal, and mix my sweet with sour.
Mi. Blage.
True, I confess a privately life is good,
Nor would I otherwise be understood,
To be a Goldsmiths wife is some content,
But days in court more pleasantly are spent,
A households government deserves renown,
But what is a companion to a crown?
The name of mistress is a pretty thing,
But Madam at each word doth glory bring
Enter her Boy.
O that I knew which were the best of twain,
Which for I do not, I am sick with pain.
How now Sir boy, what is the news with you?
Boy.
The Gentleman forsooth the other day,
That would have bought the Jewel at our stall,
Is here to speak with ye.
O God it is the king.
Good mistress Blague withdraw ye from this place,
I will come anon, so soon as he is gone,
And sirrah get you to the shop again.
Exit Boy.
Now mistress Shoare bethink ye what to do,
Such suitors come not every day to woo.
Mistris Blague departs, and the King enters in his former disguise
Thou mayst convict me (beauties pride) of boldness,
That I intrude like an unbidden guest,
But love being guide, my fault will seem the less.
Most welcome to your subjects homely roof,
The foot, my Sovereign, seldom doth offend,
Unless the heart some other hurt intend.
The most thou seest is hurt unto myself,
How for thy sake, is majesty disrobed?
Riches made poor, and dignity brought low,
Only that thou mightst our affection know.
The more the pity, that within the sky,
The sun that should all other vapours dry,
And guide the world with his most glorious light,
Is muffled up himself in wilful night.
The want of thee, fair Cinthia is the cause,
Spread thou thy silver-brightness in the air,
And strait the gladsome morning will appear.
I may not wander, he that guides my car,
Is an unmoved constant, fixed star,
But I will give that star a comets name,
And shield both thee and him from further blame.
How if the host of heaven at this abuse
Repine? who can the prodigy excuse?
It lies within the compass of my power,
To dim their envious eyes, dare seem to lower,
But leaving this our Enigmatic talk,
Thou must sweet Iane repair unto the court,
His tongue entreats, controls the greatest peer,
His hand plights love, a royal sceptre holds,
And in his heart he hath confirmed thy good,
Which may not, must not, shall not be withstood.
If you enforce me, I have nought to say,
But wish I had not lived to see this day.
Blame not the time, thou shalt have cause to joy.
Iane in the evening I will send for thee,
And thou and thine shall be advanced by me.
In sign whereof receive this true-love kiss,
Nothing ill meant, there can be no amiss.
Well I will in, and ere the time begin,
Learn how to be repentant for my sin.
Enter Lord Maior, maister Shoare, and Fraunces Emersley.
But Cousin Shoare, are ye assured it was
the King you saw in such disguise?
Do I know you the uncle to my wife? know I
Franke Emersley her brother here? so surely do I
know that counterfeit to be King.
Frances.
Well, admit all this. And that his Majesty
in such disguise, please to survey the manners of our
City, or what occasion else may like himselfe. Methinks
you have small reason brother Shoare, to be
displeased thereat.
O I have found him now.
Because my niece his wife is beautiful,
And well reputed for her virtuous parts:
He in his fond conceit misdoubts the King,
Doth dote on her in his affection.
I know not Cousin how she may be changed,
By any cause in you procuring it:
From the fair carriage of her wonted course:
But well I wot, I have oft heard you say,
She merited no scruple of mislike.
If now some giddy fancy in your brain,
Make you conceive sinisterly of her,
And with a person of such difference.
I tell you Cousin, more for her respect,
Than to sooth you in such a sottishness,
I would reveal ye open to the world,
And let your folly just plague yourself.
Uncle you are too forward in your rage,
And much mistake me in this suddenness,
Your Nieces reputation have I prized,
And shrined as devoutly in my soul
As you, or any that it can concern.
For when I tell you that it is the king,
Comes muffled like a common Serving-man,
Do I infer thereby my wife is false?
Or swerves one jot from wonted modesty.
Though in my shop she sit, more to respect,
Her servants duty, than for any skill,
She doth, or can pretend in what we trade,
Is it not strange, that ever when he comes,
It is to her, and will not deal with me?
Ah Uncle Franke, nay, would all her kin,
Were here to censure of my cause aright:
Though I misdeem not her, yet give me leave,
To doubt what his sly walking may intend.
And let me tell ye, he that is possessed,
Of such a beauty, fears undermining guests:
Especially a mighty one, like him,
Whose greatness may guild over ugly sin.
But say his coming is not to my wife,
Then hath he some sly aiming at my life,
By false compounded metals, or light gold,
Or else some other trifle to be sold.
When kings themselves so narrowly do pry
Into the world, men fear, and why not I?
Fran.
Believe me brother in this doubtful case
I know not well how I should answer ye,
I wonder in this serious busy time,
Of this great gathered benevolence,
For his regaining of his right in France,
The day and nightly turmoil of his Lords,
Yea of the whole estate in general,
He can be spared from these great affairs,
And wander here disguised in this sort.
But is not this your boy?
Enter the Boy.
Yes marry is it: how now, what news
with thee?
Master, my mistress by a Nobleman,
Is sent for to the king in a close Coach,
She is gon with him, these are the news I bring.
How? my Niece sent for to the king?
By a Nobleman, and she is gone with him?
Nay, then I like it not?
Frank.
How, gone sayst thou?
Be patient Uncle, storm not gentle Frank:
The wrong is mine, by whom? a king,
To talk of such it is no common thing,
She is gone thou sayst?
Yes truly Sir, it is so.
I cannot help it, in Gods name let her go,
You cannot help it Uncle, no, nor you,
Where kings are meddlers, meaner men must rue
I storm against it? no, farewell Iane Shoare,
Once thou wast mine, but must be so no more.
Exit Maior.
Gone to the Court?
Shoar.
Yet uncle will ye rage?
Let mine example your high heat assuage.
To note offences in a mighty man
It is enough, amend it he that can,
Franke Emersley, my wife thy sister was,
Lands, goods and all I have to thee I pass,
Save that poor portion must along with me,
To bear me from this badge of obloquy,
It never shall be said that Mathew Shoare,
A kings dishonour in his bonnet wore.
Good Brother.
Strive not to change me, for I am resolved,
And will not tarry. England fare thou well,
And Edward, for requiting me so well,
But dare I speak of him? forbear, forbear.
Come Franke I will surrender all to thee,
And then abroad, where ere my fortunes be.
Enter king Edward, Howard, Sellinger, etc.
And have our Country subjects been so frank
And bountiful in their benevolence:
Toward our present expedition?
Thanks Cousin Howard for thy pains herein:
We will have letters sent to every Shire
Of thankful gratitude, that they may know,
How highly we respect their gentleness.
One thing my Lord I had well near forgot,
Your pleasant host the Tanner of Tamwoorth.
Kin.
What of him Cousin?
He was right liberal,
Twenty old Angels did he send your Grace,
And others seeing him so bountiful,
Stretched further than otherwise they had done.
Trust me I must requite that honest Tanner.
O had he kept his word, and come to Court,
Then in good sadness we had had good sport.
That is not long my Lord which comes at last
He is come to London, on an earnest cause,
His son lies prisoner in Stafford Jail,
And is condemned for a robbery.
Your Highness pardoning his sons offence,
May yield the Tanner no mean recompense.
But who hath seen him since he came to town?
My Lord in Holborn it was my hap to see him
Gazing about, I sent away my men,
And clapping on one of their livery cloaks,
Came to him, and the Tanner knew me straight,
How dost thou Tom? and how doth Ned quoth he
That honest merry Hangman, how doth he?
I knowing that your Majesty intended
This day in person to come to the Tower,
There bad him meet me, where Ned and I,
Would bring him to the presence of the King,
And there procure a pardon for his son.
Have then a care we be not seen of him,
Until we be provided for the purpose,
Because once more we will have a little sport,
Tom Sellinger, let that care be yours.
I warrant ye my Lord let me alone.
Enter the Lord Maior.
Welcome Lord Mayor, what have you signified,
Our thankfulness unto our Citizens,
For their late gathered benevolence?
Before the Citizens in our Guildhall,
Master Recorder made a good oration,
Of thankful gratitude unto them all,
Which they received with so kind respect,
And love unto your royal majesty,
As it appeared to us they sorrowed,
Their bounty to your Highness was no more,
Lord Mayor, thanks to yourself and them,
And go ye with us now into the Tower,
To see the order that we shall observe,
In this so needful preparation,
The better may you signify to them,
What need there was of their benevolence.
I will wait upon your gracious majesty,
Yet there is one thing that much grieveth me.
aside.
Enter Shoare, and two watermen bearing his trunkes.
Go honest fellow, bear my trunks aboard,
And tell the master I will come presently.
Enter mistris Shoare Lady-like attired, with diuers supplications in her hand,
she vnpinning her mask, and attended on by many sutors.
1 Wa.
We will sir, but what Lady have we here?
Belike she is of no mean countenance,
That hath so many suitors waiting on her.
Go one of you I pray ye, enquire her name,
1. Wa.
My honest friend, what Lady call ye this?
Air.
Her name is mistress Shoare, the kings beloved
A special friend to suitors at the court.
Her name is mistress Shore the kings beloved,
Where shall I hide my head, or stop mine ears,
But like an owl I shall be wondered at?
When she with me was wont to walk the streets,
The people then as she did pass along,
Would say, there goes fair modest mistress Shore,
When she attended like a City Dame,
Was praised of Matrons, So that Citizens,
when they would speak of ought aught unto their wives
Fetched their example still from mistress Shoare,
But now she goes decked in her courtly robes,
This is not she, that once in seemly black,
Was the chaste, sober wife of Mathew Shoare,
For now she is King Edwards Concubine,
O great ill title, honourable shame,
Her good I had, but king her ill is thine,
Once Shoares true wife, now Edwards concubine.
Amongst the rest I will note her new behaviour.
All this while shee standes conferring priuately with her sutors,
and looking on their billes.
Aier.
Good mistress Shoare remember my sons life.
What is thy name?
My name is Thomas Air.
There is his pardon signed by the King.
In sign of humble hearty thankfulness,
Take this in Angels twenty pound.
What think ye, that I buy and sell for bribes,
His highness favour, or his subjects blood?
No, without gifts God grant I may do good,
For all my good cannot redeem my ill,
Yet to do good I will endeavour still.
Yet all this good doth but guild over thy ill.
Palmer.
Mistress the restitution of my lands.
Taken perforce by his highness officers.
The King is content your goods shall be restored,
But the officers will hardly yield thereto,
Yet be content, I will see ye have no wrong.
Thou canst not say to me so, I have wrong.
Iockie.
mistress good faith gin you will help me till my land,
which the false loon Billie Grime of Glendale hadst wrongfully
frea me: I will white your goodness with a bonnie nag, shall
swum away so deftly as the wind.
Your suit my friend, requires a longer time,
Yet since you dwell so far off, to ease your charge,
Your diet with my servants you may take,
And some relief I will get thee of the king.
It is cold relief thou gettest me from the King.
Now Gods blessing light on that gaudily fair
face, I shall be your true beadsman mistress, Aye indeed, shall I.
Pal.
God bless the care you have of doing good.
Pity she should miscarry in her life,
That bears so sweet a mind in doing good.
So say I too, ah Iane this kills my heart,
That thou recks others, and not ruest my smart.
Rufford.
mistress I fear you have forgot my suit?
O, it is for a licence to transport Corn from this
land, and lead to foreign Realms, I had your bill, but I
have torn your bill, and it were no shame I think, to tear
your ears, that care not how you wound the common
wealth. The poor must starve for food to fill your purse,
And the enemy bandy bullets of our lead. No Master Rufford,
I will not speak for you, except it be to have you punished.
By the mess a deft lass, Christ benison light on
her.
She espies her husband walking aloofe off, and not knowing him, takes him for another Sutor.
Is that another suitor? I have no bill of his,
Go one of you, and know what he would have.
Yes Iane, the bill of my obliged faith,
And I had thine, but thou hast canceled it.
Here she knowes him, and lamenting, comes to him.
O God it is my husband, kind Mathew Shoare.
Ah Iane, whats he dare say he is thy husband?
Thou wast a wife, but now thou art not so,
Thou wast a maid, a maid when thou wast wife,
Thou wast a wife, even when thou wast a maid,
So good, so modest, and so chaste thou wast,
But now thou art divorced, whiles yet he lives,
That was thy husband, while thou wast his wife.
Thy wifehood stained, by thy dishonoured life,
For now thou art nor widow, maid, nor wife.
I must confess I yielded up the Forte,
Wherein lay all the riches of thy joy,
But yet sweet Shoare, before I yielded it,
I did endure the longest and greatest siege,
That ever battered on poor chastity,
And but to him that did assault the same,
For ever it had been invincible,
But I will yield it back again to thee.
He cannot blame me, though it be so done,
To loose by me, what first by me was won.
No Iane, there is no place allowed for me,
Where once a King hath taken possession,
Mean men brook not a Rival in their love,
Much less so High unrivalled Majesty,
A concubine to one so great as Edward,
Is far too great to be the wife of Shoare,
I will refuse the pleasures of the Court,
Let me go with thee Shoare, though not as a wife,
Yet as thy slave, since I have lost that name,
I will redeem the wrong that I have done thee,
With my true service, if thou wilt accept it.
Thou go with me Iane, O God forbid,
That I should be a traitor to my King,
Shall I become a felon to his pleasures,
And fly away as guilty of the theft?
No my dear Iane, I say it may not be,
O what have subjects that is not their kings,
I will not examine his prerogative.
Why then sweet Mat, let me entreat thee stay,
What is it with Edward that I cannot do?
I will make thee wealthier than ever Richard was,
That entertained the three greatest kings in Europe,
And feasted them in London on a day
Ask what thou wilt, were it a million,
That may content thee, thou shalt have it Shoare.
Indeed this were some comfort to a man,
That tasted want or worldly misery,
But I have lost what wealth cannot return,
All worldly losses are but toys to mine,
O, all my wealth, the loss of thee was more,
Than ever time or Fortune can restore.
Therefore sweet Iane farewell, once thou wast mine,
Too rich for me, and that King Edward knew,
Adieu, O world, he shall deceived be,
That puts his trust in women or in thee.
Ah Shoar farewell, poor heart in death I will tell,
I ever loved thee Shoare, farewell, farewell.
Enter King Edward, Lord Maior, Howard, Sellenger, and the traine.
Enter the Tanner.
Having awaked forth of their sleepy dens,
Our drowsy Cannons, which ere long shall charm,
The watchful French, with deaths eternal sleep,
And all things else in readiness for France,
A while we will give truce unto our care,
There is a merry Tanner near at hand,
With whom we mean to be a little merry.
Therefore Lord Mayor, and you my other friends,
I must entreat you not to knowledge me,
No man stand bare, all as companions,
Give me a Cloak, that I may be disguised,
Tom Sellenger, go thou and take another,
So Tanner, now come when ye please, we are provided.
And in good time, see he is come already.
Tom Sellenger, go thou and meet him.
What Iohn Hobs? welcome In faith to Court.
Gramercies honest Tom, where is the hangman
Ned? where is that mad rascal, shall I not see him?
See where he stands, that same is he.
What Ned? a plague found thee, how dost thou for
a villain? how dost thou mad rogue, and how, and how?
In health Iohn Hobs, and very glad to see thee,
But say, what wind drove thee to London.
Ah Ned, I was brought hither with a whirlwind
man, my son, my son, did I not tell thee I had a knave to
my son?
Yes Tanner, what of him?
Faith he is in Caperdoche Ned, in Stafford Gaol,
for a robbery, and is like to be hanged, except thou get the
King to be more miserable to him.
If that be all Tanner, I will warrant him,
I will procure his pardon of the King.
Wilt thou Ned? for those good words, see what my
Daughter Nell hath sent thee, a handkercher wrought with
as good Coventry silk blue thread, as ever thou sawest.
And I perhaps may wear it for her sake,
In better presence than thou art aware of.
How Ned, a better present? that canst thou not have
for silk, cloth, and workmanship, why Nell made it man.
But Ned? is not the King in this company, what is he in the
long beard and the red petticoat? before God I misdoubt
Ned that is the King, I know it by my Lord what ye calls
players.
How by them Tanner?
Ever when they play an Interlude or a Commodity
at Tamwoorth, the King always is in a long beard, and
a red gown like him, therefore I expect him to be the king.
No trust me Tanner, this is not the King, but
thou shalt see the King before thou goest, and have a pardon
for thy son too with thee.
This man is the Lord Mayor, Lord Mayor of London, here
was the Recorder too, but he is gone.
What Nicknames these courtnoles have? Mare and
Corder quotha? we have no such at Liechfield, there is the honest
Bailiff and his brethren, such words gree best with us.
My Lord , reg orig="Maior">Mayor, I pray ye for my sake, to bid this
honest Tanner welcome.
You are welcome my honest friend,
In sign whereof I pray you see my house,
And sup with me this night.
I thank ye good goodman Mayor, but I care not
for no meat, my stomach is like to a sick swines, that
will neither eat nor drink, till she know what shall become
of her pig. Ned and Tom, you promised me a good turne
when I came to Court, either do it now, or go hang yourselves.
No sooner comes the King, but I will do it.
I warrant thee Tanner, fear not thy sons life.
Nay, I fear not his life, I fear his death.
Enter Maister of Saint Katherines, and Norton.
Master.
All health and happiness to my sovereign.
The Master of Saint Katherines hath marred all.
Out alas that ever I was born.
The Tanner falles in a swound, they labour to reuiue him, meane while the King puts
on his royall robes.
Look to the Tanner there, he takes no harm,
I would not have him (for my crown) miscarry,
Wid.
Let me come to him by my kings good leave
Here is ginger honest man, bite it.
Bite ginger, bite ginger, bite a dogs date,
I am but a dead man, ah my Liege, that you should
deal so with a poor well meaning man, but it
makes no matter, I can but die.
But when Tanner canst thou tell?
Nay even when you please, for I have so defended
ye, by calling ye plain Ned, mad rogue and rascal, that I
know you will have me hanged. Therefore make no more ado,
but send me down to Stafford, and there in Gods name
hang me with my son. And here is another as honest as yourself,
you made me call him plain Tom, I warrant his name
is Thomas, and some man of worship too, therefore let us to
it, even when and where ye will.
Tanner attend, not only do we pardon thee,
But in all princely kindness welcome thee,
And thy sons trespass do we pardon too,
Over go and see that forthwith it be drawn,
Under our seal of England, as it ought,
And forty pounds we give thee to defray
Thy charges in thy coming up to London.
Now Tanner, what sayst thou to us?
Marry you speak like an honest man, if
You mean as you say.
We mean it Tanner, on our royal word.
Now master of S. Katherines, what would you?
My gracious Lord, the great benevolence,
(Though small to that your subjects could afford,
Of poor Saint Katherines do I bring your grace, )
Five hundred pounds here have they sent by me.
For the easier portage, all in Angel gold,
What this good widow mistress Norton will,
She comes herself, and brings her gift with her.
Pardon me gracious Lord, presumption,
Nor overweening in my own conceit,
Makes me thus bold to come before your Grace,
But love and duty to your majesty:
And great desire to see my Lord the king,
Our Master here spake of benevolence,
And said my twenty Nobles was enough,
I thought not so, but at your Highness feet,
A widows mite, a token of her zeal,
In humble duty gives you twenty pound.
Now by my Crown, a gallant lusty Girl,
Of all the exhibition yet bestowed,
This woman's liberality likes me best.
Is thy name Norton?
Aye my gracious Liege.
How long hast thou been a Widow?
It is my Lord,
Since I did bury Wilkin my goodman,
At Shrovetide next even just a dozen years.
In all which space, couldst thou not find a man,
On whom thou mightst bestow thyself again?
Not any like my Wilkin whose dear love,
I know is matchless, in respect of whom,
I think not any worthy of a kiss.
No widow? that I will try, how like you this?
He kisseth her.
Beshrew my heart, it was a honey kiss,
Able to make an aged woman young:
And for the same most sweet and lovely prince,
See what the widow gives you from her store,
Forty old Angels but for one kiss more.
Marry Widow and thou shalt have it,
Iohn Hobs thou art a widower,
Lackest thou such a wife?
Snails, twenty pound for a kiss? had she as
many twenty pound bags as I have knobs of bark in my
Tanfat, she might kiss them away in a quarter of a year.
I will no Saint Katherines widows, if kisses be so dear.
Widow.
Clubs and clouted shoes, there is none enamoured
Lord Mayor, we thank you and entreat withal,
To recommend us to our Citizens:
We must for France, we bid you all farewell,
Come Tanner thou shalt with us to Court,
Tomorrow you shall dine with my Lord Mayor,
And afterwards set homeward when ye please:
God and our right that only fights with us:
Adieu, pray that our toil prove prosperous.