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Full text of "The Dramatic Works Of Thomas Heywood With A Life Of The Poet And Remarks On His Writings Volume I"

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THE 



DRAMATIC WORKS 



OF 

THOMAS HEYWOOD. 

WITH 

A LIFE OF THE POET, 

AND 

.REMARKS ON HIS WRITINGS 

J. PAYNE COLLIER, ESQ. 
VOL. I. 




LONDON: 
PRINTED FOR THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY. 

1850. 



CONTENTS 

OF 

THE FIEST VOLUME. 



KING EDWARD THE FOURTH. PART I. 
KING EDWARD THE FOURTH. PART IT, 
TTTE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE. 
FORTUNE BY LAND AND SEA. 
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. PART I. 
THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. PART II. 



THE 



FIRST AND SECOND PARTS 

OF 

KING EDWARD IV. 

HISTORIES 

BY 

THOMAS HEYWOOD. 

REPRINTED FROM THE UNIQUE BLACK LETTER FIRST 

EDITION OF 1600,, COLLATED WITH ONE OTHER 

IN BLACK LETTER, AND WITH THOSE OF 

1619 AND 1626. 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, 

BY BAKRON FIELD, ESQ. 

"If I wero to be consulted as to a Reprint of oar Old English Dramatists, 
I should advise to begin with the collected plays of HEYWOOD." 

CHARLES LAMB. 




LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR TUB SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY. 

1842. 



COUNCIL 

OF 

THE SHAKESPEARE SOCIETY. 

Vwiittmt. 

THE MOST NOBLE THE MARQUESS OP NORMANBY. 



RT. HON. LORD BRAYBROOKE, F.S.A. 

RT. HON. LORD F. EGERTON, M.P. 

RT. HON. THE EARL OF GLENGALL. 

RT. HON. EARL HOWE. 

RT. HON. LORD LEIGH. 

RT. HON. THE EARL OF POWIS. 

AMYOT, THOMAS, ESQ., F.R.S., TREAS. S. A. 

AYRTON, WILLIAM, ESQ., F.R.S,, F.S.A. 

BOTFIELD, BERIAH, ESQ., M.P. 

BRUCE, JOHN, ESQ., F.S.A. 

COLMRR, J. PAYNE, ESQ., FS.A., DIRECTOR. 

OJRA1K, GEORGE L., ESQ. 

CUNNINGHAM, PETER, ESQ., TREASURER. 

DYCIiJ, REV. ALEXANDER. 

FIKU), JJARRON, ESQ. 

1IALLAM, I1KNRY, ESQ., F.R.S., V.P.S.A. 

1IALLIVVJ3LL, J, 0., ESQ., F.R.S. F.S.A. 

HARNESS, REV. WILLIAM. 

MACREADY, WILLIAM C., ESQ. 

MILMAN, REV. HENRY HART. 

OXENFORD, JOHN, ESQ. 

PETTFGRKW, T. J., ESQ., F.R.S., F.S.A. 

PLANCUE, J. R., ESQ., F.S.A. 

TI-JOMti, WILLIAM J., ESQ., F.S.A. 

TOMUNS, F. GUEST, ESQ., SECRETARY, 

WATSON, SIR FREDERICK BEILBY, K.C.H., F.R.S. 

WRIGHT, THOMAS, ESQ., M.A., F.S.A. 



The Council of the Shakespeare Society desire it to he understood 
that they arc not answerable for any opinions or observations that 
may appear in the Society's publications ; the Editors of the several 
works being alone responsible for the aaiue. 



INT110DUCT10N. 



The following plays are interesting not only in them- 
selves, but inasmuch as they run parallel with certain 
parts of Shakespeare's historical series. We have either 
seen or heard of no fewer than five editions of them ; 
but they are all now so scarce, that the modern reader 
may be said to have here, for the first time, an oppor- 
tunity of comparing the similar scenes of the Duke of 
f jloeester's hypocrisy and cruelty, in the two writers. 
He will doubtless come to the conclusion of the late 
Charles Lamb, that Heywood was but a prose Shake- 
speare ; but he will remember that these plays are meant 
only to be " histories," not comedies or tragedies ; that 
plot and poetry are not essential to them ; and he will 
close even this specimen with a conviction that Thomas 
JToywood was a very practised and clever playwright, as 
(to be sure) the writer or assistant in two hundred and 
twenty plays, and an actor, to boot, could scarcely fail 
of being. 

Perhaps Shakespeare would not have left untouched 
so pathetic a tragedy as that of Jane Shore, if he had 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

not seen it so well handled by Heywood. Stcevens has 
this note on " Richard the Third :" 

" In the books of the Stationers' Company, June 19, 1594, Tho- 
mas Creede made the following entry : ' An enterlude intitled the 
tragedie of Richard the Third, wherein is shown the deathe of Edward 
the Fourthe, with the smotheringe of the two princes in the Tower, 
with the lamentable end of Shore's wife, and the contention [con- 
junction] a of the two houses of Lancaster and Yorkc.' This could 
not have been the work of Shakespeare, unless he afterwards dis- 
missed the death of Jane Shore, as an unnecessary incident, when 
he revised the play/' 

In the " True Tragedy of Richard the Third," which 
was acted before Shakespeare's play of that title, and 
which is reprinted (though incompletely) in Boswcll's 
edition of the great poet, there are a few poor scones in 
which Jane Shore appears, but her end or death is not 
exhibited. 

King Edward the Fourth, too, would have made a 
character worthy of Shakespeare's pen ; and though our 
great poet would doubtless have surpassed I Toy wood in 
the tragedy of the Shores, yet he could not well have 
excelled him in the manner in which ho hay dramatized 
the old ballad of the King and the Tanner of Tuinworth. 
So dramatically, indeed, is this done, that the late Mr. 
Walclron made a two-act piece of it, under the title of 
" The King in the Country," and it was acted at llich- 
mond and Windsor, in 1788, after the return of tho 
very different King George the Third from Cheltenham. 

And yet perhaps Shakespeare saw the difficulty and 

* Weber's Beaumont and Fletcher, vol. i. p. 148, and Collier's 
Shakespeare, vol. v. p. 343. 



INTRODUCTION. vii 

delicacy of representing on the stage a starved woman 
a situation, however pathetic in reality, which even 
the taste of Rowe, more refined than that of Heywood, 
was not able to make probable to the theatrical spec- 
tator. Rowo professed, in his questionable tragedy of 
"Jane Shore," to imitate Shakespeare; but to imitate 
Shakespeare is more easily talked of than done : he has 
only borrowed a scene from Shakespeare's " Richard the 
Third," and has been much more indebted to Heywood's 
"Ed ward the Fourth." 

A writer in the " Retrospective Review " b says, that 
this play is " a long and tedious business," but praises 
the scenes and characters of the Shores. These I am 
inclined to think equal in execution (as they resemble 
them in story) with those of the same author's " Woman 
kill'd with Kindness/' which the Retrospective Reviewer 
extols so highly. He adds, that " the author has made 
* Richard III/ a very vulgar villain." Some of his 
" asides " are certainly gross ; but they are scarcely 
worse than the following, in the third part of " King 
Henry the Sixth," whoever wrote it : 

*' Glos. And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, 
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. 
(Aside.') To say the truth, as Judas kissed his Master, 
And cried All hail I whenas c he meant All harm /" 

If the reader will refer to Dr. Percy's Reliques and 
Ritson's " Antient Popular Poetry," he will see how 
Iloywood has improved upon the old ballads of the King 

* Vol. xi. p. 126. 

* This is one word, and had better be so printed : it means little 
more than when, just as whereas is often used for where , and vice versd. 



Vlii INTRODUCTION. 

and the Barker, or Tanner, of Tamworth ; and this epi- 
sode is not unartisticaliy woven into the story of the 
first part of our plays. Indeed, it conies more natu- 
rally in, than the tale of the Shores, which goes through 
both parts. 

I have only to add that the Shakespeare Society is 
indebted to the constant kindness of Lord Francis 
Egerton for this reprint, from a copy supposed to be 
unique, of the earliest and (as is generally the case) the 
best edition of these plays. It is in black letter, and 
dated 1600. There are two other black letter editions, 
without dates, but certainly later than this, because the 
word " God" is frequently changed in them into " Cock," 
in evasion of the statute of the 3 Jac. L, which had 
passed since 1600. And this may account for the ab- 
sence of dates to these editions, which may have been 
intended to render a breach of the act of parliament 
more difficult of proof. We are no defenders of any 
violation of the third commandment; but we confess 
that the substituted word appears to us more profane 
than the original. Mr. Collier dates these two gothic- 
letter copies 1605 and 1613 ; and to him I am indebted 
for the collation of the edition of 1626 with one of them, 
and with that of 1619. These black letters appear to 
have proceeded from a different font of types from that 
of 1600, but the title-pages are wanting in our copies. 
The editions of 1619 and 1626 are in Roman letter, and 
by the same printer with that of 1600, Humfrey Lownes, 
and the last is in the title-page called " the fourth 
impression;" but we thus make it the fifth. At any 
rate, the Biographia Dramatica is wrong in supplying 



INTRODUCTION. IX 

the want of a date, to the black letter edition it cites, 
with " 1599," and Langbaine is more correct in saying 
" 16 . " The following entry in the J5iog. Dram, may 
be accurate, but there was also a play called " Jane 
Shore," by Chettle and Day, acted at the Rose Theatre 
in 1 602 : 

" 231. The Life and Death of Master Shore and Jane Shore his 
wife, as it was lately acted by the Earle of Derbie his servants. 
Entered on the Stationers' book, Aug. 28, 1599. This play is men- 
tioned in the ' Knight of the Burning Pestle," and appears to be the 
second part of Heywood's * Edward the Fourth.' " 

The fullest account of Thomas Heywood is in the 
last edition of Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. vii. p. 217; 
and the latest notices of the author will be found in the 
respective introductions to his " Apology for Actors," 
reprinted by this Society, and to his "Marriage Tri- 
umph," by the Percy Society. 



ERRATA. 

Page 11, line 15, dele the apostrophe. 

39, 24, for Tamsworth read Tamvortft. 

78, 30, for ma read may. 

87, 14, for kings read King's. 

158, 10, add and untrussecL 

163, 31, for told read gold. 

1G6, 13 9 for parators re- Countrymen . 
GRUDGEN. J 



AYRE. ~\ ~ . 

-~ \> buitors. ^ T. 

PALMER. J ( RUVVORD. 

A Miller. 

The Queen. 

The Duchess of YORK. 

JANE SHORE. 

Mrs. BLAGUE. 

Widow NORTON. 

NELL, HOB'S daughter. 

Apprentices, Messengers, Officers, Soldiers, Huntsmen, 
Watermen, &c. 

Scene ENGLAND. 
tt There is uo list of characters in any of the old copies. 



THE FIRST PART 

OF 

EDWARD IY, 



ACT I, SCENE I." 
At Grafton. 

JSnter KTNG EDWARD, the DUCHESS OF YORK, the QUEEN, 
the LOUD HOWARD, and SIB THOMAS SELLINGEB. 

Duch. Son, I tell ye you have done you know not what. 

King. I have married a woman ; else I am deceived, 
mother. 

Duch. 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 ! God's will, what 
chiding still ? 

Duch O God ! that e'er I liv'd to see this day ! 

i> The old copies are not divided into Acts and Scenes. The places 
are always, aurl the exits and entrances sometime*, unmarked. The 
stage directions are often either superfluous or deficient ; but I have 
altered them as little as possible. 



4 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 

King. 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, 'tis a stirring world. 

Duck. Have you sent Warwick into Franco for this ? 
King. No, by my faith, mother, I sent Warwick into 
France for another; but this by chance being nearer 
hand, and coming in the way, I cannot tell how, we con- 
cluded, and now, as you see, are going about to get a 
young king, 

Duch. But tell me, son, how will you answer this ? 
Is't 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 you take a subject of your own ? 
What may the princess Bona think of this ? 
Our noble cousin Warwick, that groat lord, 
That centre-shaking thunderclap of war, 
That like a column propt the house of York, 
And bore our white rose bravely in his top, 
When he shall hear his embassage abusM, 
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 touch'd with this foul blomish. 
Son, son, I tell you that is done by you, 
Which yet the child that is unborn shall ruo. 

King. Tush, mother, you arc deceived : all true sub- 
jects shall have cause to thank God, to have their king 
born of a true English woman. I tell you, it was uovor 
well since we matched with strangers 3 so our children 
have been still like chickens of the half kind. But whore 
the cock and the hen be both of one breed, thero is like 
to be birds of the game. Hear you, mother, hear you j 



SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 5 

had I gone to it by fortune, I had made your sons George 
and Dick to have stood gaping after the Crown. This 
wench, mother, is a widow, and hath made proof of her 
valour 5 and for any thing I know, I am as like to do the 
deed, as John 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 mo- 
ther had a towarder son. Why, cousin Howard and 
Tom Sellinger, heard you ever such a coil about a 
wife ? 

How. My sovereign lord, with patience bear her spleen. 
Your princely mother's 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, 

O'er-swoln with the extremity of love. 

SeL 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 lade and dull our ears again. 
Seem you but sorry for what you have done, 
And straight she'll put the finger in the eye, 
With comfort now, since it cannot be helpt. 

But make you show to justify the act, 

If ever other language in her lips 

Than ** Out upon it, it is abominable 1" 

I dare be hanged. 

Say any thing, it makes no matter what, 

Than thus be wearied with a woman's chat. 

Duch. Ay, ay, you are the spaniels of the court, 

And thus you fawn and soothe your wanton king : 

But, Edward, bad'st thou priz'd thy majesty, 

Thou never would'st have stain'd thy princely state- 

With the base leavings of a subject's bed, 

Nor borne the blemish of her bigamy. 



6 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 

A widow ! is it not a goodly thing ? 

Gray's children, come ask blessing of the King. 
Queen. Nay, I beseech your grace, ray lady York, 

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 liv'd a true and faithful wife \ 

And since his high imperial majesty 

Hath pleas'd to bless my poor dejected state 

With the high sovereign title of his Queen, 

I here protest, before the host of heaven, 

1 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. God's foot, we were as merry ore she came as 

any people in Christendom, I with the mistress and those 
with the maids, only we have no fiddlers at our feast $ 
but, mother, you have made a fit of mirth. Welcome to 
Graf ton, mother. By my troth, you are ovon just <*,omc 
as I wished you here. Lot us go to supper ; and in 
charity give us your blessing ero wo go to bod. 

Duck. O Edward, Edward ! fly and leave this place, 
Wherein, poor silly king, thou art enchanted. 
This is her dam of Bedford's work, her mother, 
That hath bewitch'd thee, Edward, my poor child. 
Dishonour not the princes of thy laud, 
To make them kueel with reverence at her foot, 
That, ere thou didst empale with sovorcignty, 
They would have scorned to have look'tl upon. 
There's no such difference 'twixt the greatest poor 
And the poor silliest kitchen-maid that lives. 
As is betwixt thy worthiness and lior's. 

Queen. I do confess it : yet, my lady York, 
My mother is a duchess, as you are, 
A princess born, the Duke of Bedford's wife, 



SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 7 

And, as you know, a daughter and a sister 
Unto the royal blood of Burgundy. 
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 in this pride ! 

Sel. 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. 

Dnch. Thou art a minion and a flatterer. 

Sel. Madam, but that you are my sovereign's mother, 
I would let you know you wrong a gentleman. 

How. Good cousin Sellinger, have patience. 
Her grace's rage, by too 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 coz ; I pray thee, make them 

friends. 

Why, how now, Bess, what weep? nay then, I'll chide you. 
What sudden news comes by this messenger ? 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. My sovereign lord, the bastard Falconbridge 
Of late hath stirr'd rebellion in the south, 
Encouraging his forces to deliver 
King Henry, late depos'd, 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. 

Edw. Well, let this Phaeton, that is mounted thus, 



8 THE FIRST TART OF ACT I. 

Look he sit surely, or, by England's George, 

1*11 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-aery. Methought I saw 

Black discontent sit ever on his brow, 

And now I see I calculated well. 

Good cousin Howard, and Tom Bellinger, 

This night we'll spend in feast and jollity 

With our new Queen and our beloved mother : 

To-morrow 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 bonny Bess. 

Welcome, mother 3 we are all your guests. [JSweunt. 

SCENE II. Near London. 

Enter FALCONBRIDGE mth his troops, marching, SriciNt;, 
SMOKE, CHUB, and others. 

Fal. Hold, drum ! 

Spi. Hold, drum, and be hanged ! 

Smoke. Hold, drum, hold ! peace then, ho ! 
Silence to the proclamation. 

Spi, You lie, you rogue; 'tis to the oration. 

Chub, Nay, then, you all lie 5 'tis to the coblicaiioii. 

Fal. True-hearted English, and our valiant friends 

AIL Ho ! brave General, i'faith, 

Spi. Peace there, you rogues, or I will split your chap*. 

Fal. Dear countrymen, I publicly proclaim, 
If any wronged, discontented English, 
Touch'd with true feeling of King Henry's wrongs, 
Henry the Sixth, the lawful king of England, 



SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV, 9 

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 Neville, the Lord Falconbridge 

All. Ay, ay ! a Falconbridge ! a Falconbridge ! 

Spi. Peace, ye clamorous rogues i On, General, with 
your oration. Peace, there ! 

Fal. Pitying King Henry's poor distressed case, 
Arm'd with his title and a subject's zeal, 
Takes up just arms against the house of York, 
And does proclaim our ancient liberty. 

AIL Liberty, liberty, liberty, general liberty ! 

Fal. We do not rise like Tyler, Cade, and Straw, 
Bluebeard, and other of that rascal rout, 
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's by some greedy cormorant enclos'd, 
But in the true and antient lawful right 
Of the redoubted house of Lancaster. 
Our blood is noble, by our birth a Neville, 
And by our lawful line, Lord Falconbridge. 
Who's here that's of so dull a leaden temper, 
That is not fired with a Neville's name ? 

All. A Neville 1 a Neville ! a Neville ! 

Fal. Our quarrel, like ourself, is honourable, 
The law our warrant. 

Smoke. Ay, ay 3 the law is on our side. 

Chub. Ay \ the law is in our own hands. 

Spi. Peace, you rogues ! 

Fal. And more : a blessing by the Word proposed 
To those that aid a true anointed king. 
Courage, brave spirits, and cry a Falcoubridge I 



10 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 

All A Falconbridge ! a Falconbridge ! 

Fal. We will be Masters of the Mint ourselves, 
And set our own stamp on the golden coin. 
We'll shoe our neighing coursers with no worse 
Than the purest silver that is sold in Cheap. 
At LeadenhalL, we'll sell pearls by the peck, 
As now the mealmen use to sell their meal. 
In Westminster, we'll keep a solemn court, 
And build it bigger to receive our men. 
Cry Falconbridge, my hearts, and liberty ! 

All. Falconbridge and liberty ! &c. 

Smoke. Peace, ye slaves ; or I will smoko yo else. 

Chub. Peace, ye slaves, or I will chub your chaps 3 but 
indeed thou mayest well smoke them, because thy name 
is Smoke. 

Smoke, Why, sirs, I hope Smoke, the smith of Chop- 
stead, is as good a man as Chub, the chandler of Sand- 
wich. 

Spi. Peace, ye rogues ; what, are you quarrelling ? and 
now list to Captain Spicing. 

You know Cheapside : there are the mercers' shops, 
Where we will measure velvet by the pikes, 
And silks and satins by the street's whole breadth : 
We'll take the tankards from the conduit-cocks 
To fill with ipocras and drink carouse, 
Where chains of gold and plate shall bo as plenty 
As wooden dishes in the wild of Kent. 

Smoke. Oh, bravely said, Ned Spicing ! the honcfttcgt 
lad that ever pund spice in a mortar. Now speaks Cap- 
tain Smoke. 

Look, lads ; for from this lull ye may discern 
The lovely town which we are marching to s 
That same is London, lads, ye look upon : 
Range all arow, iny hearts, and stand at gu r / Issue if you will, or else stay if you will. 
A man can novor 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't, 
But all is one ; we shall be sure to fight, 
And you are wise enough to see your time 5 
Ay, ay, a God's name. 

Rec. My lord, 

Accept his meaning better than his counsel. 

Mayor. Ay, 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 ? 

Rec. 'Tis doubtful yet, my lord, whether the rebels 
Purpose that way to seek our detriment. 
Rather, meseemeth, they will come by land. 
And either make assault at London Bridge, 



14 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 

Or else at Aldgate, both which entrances 
Were good they should be strongly fortified. 

Jos. Well said, master Recorder. You do. Ay, ay, 
I ye warrant. 

Rec. 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 noise ivithin. 

Mayor. What noise is this ? provide ye suddenly, 
And every man betake him to his charge. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Shore. Soft ; who is this ? How now, my friend, what 
news ? 

Mes. My master, the Lieutenant of the Tower, 
Gives ye to understand he hath descried 
The army of the rebels. 

Rec. Which way come thoy ? 

Mes. From Essexward ; and therefore 'tis his mind 
You guard both Aldgate well and Bishopsgate. 

Mayor. Saint George, away ! and lot us all resolve 
Either to vanquish this rebellious rout, 
Preserve our goods, our children, and our wives, 
Or seal our resolution with our lives. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Before the Gates of London. 
Enter FALCONBRIDGE, with SFICIN& and his Troops. 

Fal. Summon the City, and command our ontrance ; 
Which, if we shall be stubbornly denied, 
Our power shall rush like thunder through tho walls. 



SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 15 

Spi. Open your gates, slaves, when I command ye. 

[SPICING beats on the gates, and then enter the Lord 
Mayor and his associates, with the Apprentices, on 
the watts. 

Mayor. What's he that beats thus at the City gates, 
Commanding entrance as he were a king ? 

Fal. He that will have releasement for a King, 
I, Thomas Neville, the Lord Falconbridge. 

Spi. Ho, sirrah, you clapperdudgin, unlock, unbolt ! 
or I'll bolt you, if I get in. Stand you preaching, with 
a pox ? 

Mayor. We have no warrant, Thomas Falconbridge, 
To let your armed troops into our city, 
Considering you have taken up these arms 
Against our sovereign and our country's peace. 

Fal. I tell thee, Mayor, and know he tells thee so, 
That comoth armed in a king's defence, 
That I crave entrance in King Henry's name, 
In right of the true line of Lancaster. 
Methinks that word, spoke from a Neville's 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 Henry's name, I crave my entrance in. 

Rec. Should Henry's name command the entrance here, 
We should deny allegiance unto Edward, 
Whose true and .faithful subjects we are sworn, 
And in whose presence is our sword upborne. 

Fal. I tell thee, traitor, then thou bear'st thy sword 
Against thy true undoubted king. 

Shore.. Nay, then, I tell thee, bastard Falconbridge, 
My lord Mayor bears his sword in his defence, 
That put the sword into the arms of London, 



16 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 

Made the lord Mayors for ever after knights, 
Richard, depos'd by Henry Bolingbroke, 
From whom the house of York doth claim their right. 
Fal. What's lie that answers us thus saucily ? 
Smoke. Sirrah, your name, that we may know ye here- 
after. 

Shore. My name is Shore, a goldsmith by my trade. 
FaL What ! not that Shore that hath the dainty wife ? 
Shore's wife, the flow'r of London for her beauty ! 
Shore. Yes, rebel, ev'n the very same. 
Spi. Run, rascal, and fetch thy wife to our General 
presently, or else all the gold in Cheapside cannot ran- 
som her. Wilt thou not stir when I bid thee? 

Fal. Shore, listen : thy wife is mine, that's flat. 
This night, in thine own house, she sleeps with me. 
Now, Crosby, lord Mayor, shall we enter in ? 

Mayor. Crosby, the lord Mayor, tells thee, proud rebel, 

no. 

FaL No, Crosby ? shall I not ? Thou doating lord, 
I cram the name of rebel down thy throat. 
There's not the poorest rascal of 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, 
Crosby, I'll 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. 

Mayor. Nay, then, proud rebel, pause, and hear mo 



There's not the poorest and meanest citizen, 
That is a faithful subject to the King, 
But, in despite of thy rebellious rout, 
Shall walk to Bow, a small wand in his hand, 



SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV, 17 

Although thou lie encamp'd at Mile-end 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. 

Fal. Spoken like a man, and true velvet- jacket, 
And we will enter, or stick by the way, 

Enter from thepostei*n gates, Lord Mayor 9 Recorder, 
and JOSSELIN, and Apprentices. 

Mayor. Where's Master Recorder and Master Jos- 
selin ? 

Rec. Here, my lord Mayor. We now have manned 

the walls, 
And fortified such places as were needful. 

Mayor, Why, it is well, brothers and citizens ; 
Stick to your city as good men should do. 
Think that in Richard's time even such a rebel 
Was then by Walworth, the lord Mayor of London, 
Stabtfd dead in Smithfield. 
Then show yourselves as it befits the time, 
And lot this find a hundred Walworths now 
Dare stab a rebel, were he made of brass. 
And, prentices, stick to your officers, 
For you may come to be as wo are now. 
God and our King against an arrant rebel ! 
Brothers, away ; let us defend our walls. 

First Ap. My lord, your words are able to infuse 
A double courage in a coward's breast. 
Then fear not us ; although our chins be bare, 
Our hearts are good : the trial shall be seen 
Against these rebels on this champaign green. 

See. Ap* We have no tricks nor policies of war, 
But by the antient custom of our fathers, 
We'll soundly lay it on j take't off that will ; 



18 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 

And, London prentices, be rul'd by me ; 
Die ere ye lose fair London's liberty. 

Spi. How now, my flat-caps 5 are you grown so 

brave ? 

*Tis but your words : when matters come to proof, 
You'll scud as 'twere 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. 

First Ap. Sirrah, go to ; you shall not find it so. 
Flat-caps thou calTst us. We scorn not the name, 
And shortly, by the virtue of our swords, 
We'll make your cap so fit unto your crown, 
As sconce and cap and all shall kiss the ground. 

Sec. Ap. 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 term'st it better that we keep our shops. 
*Tis good indeed we should have such a care, 
But yet, for all our keeping now and thon, 
Your pilf 'ring fingers break into our locks, 
Until at Tyburn you acquit the fault. 
Go to : albeit by custom we are mild, 
As those that do profess civility, 
Yet, being mov'd, a nest of angry hornets 
Shall not be more offensive than we will. 
We'll fly about your ears and sting your hearts. 

Jos. He tells you truth, my friends, and so forth. 

Fal. Who can endure to be so brav'd by boys ? 

First Ap. Nay, scorn us not that we are prentices. 
The Chronicles of England can report 



SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 19 

What memorable actions we have done, 

To which this day's achievement shall be knit, 

To make the volume larger than it is. 

Mayor. Now, of mine honour, ye do cheer my heart. 
Brave English offsprings, valiantly resolv'd ! 

Sec. Ap. My lord, return you back ; let us alone ; 
You are our masters ; give us leave to work 5 
And if we do not vanquish them in fight, 
Let us go supperless to bed at night. 

[Exeunt all but SPICING, SMOKE, and their creiv. 

Spi. Smoke, get thee up on the top of St. Botolph's 
steeple, and make a proclamation. 

Smoke. What, a plague, should I proclaim there ? 

Spi. That the bells be rung backward, 
And cutting of throats be cried havock. 
No more calling of lanthorn and candle-light : 
That maidenheads be valued at just nothing; 
And sack be sold by the sailed 

That no piddling slave stand to pick a lock, but slash 
me off the hinges, as one would slit up a cow's paunch. 

Smoke. 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. 

SpL Rantum, scantum, rogues, follow your leader, 
Cavallero Spicing, the maddest slave that ever pund 
spice in a mortar. 

Smoke. 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 filch- 
ing and stealing: he that hath a true finger, let him 
forfeit his face to the frying-pan. Follow your leader, 
rogues, follow your leader ! 

Spi. Assault, assault ! and cry, " A Falconbridge T 



20 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 

Enter JOSSELIN on the walls. 

Jos. 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. 

Spi. Open the gates ; or, if we be the picklocks, ye 
rogues, we'll play the mastiff-dogs amongst you. If I 
worry not a thousand of you with my teeth, let me be 
hanged in a packthread, and so forth. 

Jos. Pond fellow, justice is to be used ; ay, marry, is 
it ; and law in some sort, as it were, is to be followed. 
Oh, God forbid else 1 This our magistrate hath power 
as might seem, and so forth ; for duty is to be observed, 
and officers must be obeyed, in sort and calling, and so 
forth. 

Spi. We'll talk more anon, good Master And-so-forth. 

[A very fierce assault on all sides, in which the Ap- 
prentices do great service. 

Enter FALCONBBJDGE, angry, with his men. 

Fal. Why this 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 craven curs, you slimy muddy clowns, 
Whose courage but consists in multitude, 
Like sheep and neat that follow one another, 
Which, if one run away, all follow after ; 
This hedge-bred rascal, this filthy fry of ditches j 
A vengeance take you all ! This 'tis to load you. 
Now do you cry and shriek at every shock ; 
A hot consuming mischief follow you ! 

Spi. 'Swounds ! scale, rogues, scale 1 A Falconbridge, 
a Faleonbridge ! 



SCEKE v. KING EDWARD IV. 21 

Enter the Lord Mayor and his train from the gates. 

Mayor. Set open the gates ! Nay, then, we'll 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's issue out. 

FaL Now, if ye be true-hearted Englishmen, 
The gates set open and the portcullis up, 
Lefs pell-mell in, to stop their passage out. 
lie that first enters be possess'd of Cheap ! 
1 give him it freely, and the chiefest wench. 

Sjji. That he can find. Let that lie in the bargain. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V. continues. 

The Lord Mayor and the Citizens having valiantly re- 
pulsed the Rebels from the city, enter FALCONBEIDGE 
and SPICING, and their train, wounded and dismayed. 

Sf)i, Hearest thou, general ? there's hot drinking at 
the Mouth of BishopVgate, 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 Hounds- 
ditch, let us retire our troops, and save our maimed men : 
or, if wo issue further, we are put to the sword, every 
mother's son of us. 

FaL 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 craftsman's score, 
Whose very scalp is scratched, and craz'd, and broken, 
Like an old mazer beaten on the stones 5 
And stand 5 st thou now to save our maimed men ? 
A plague upon thee, coward ! 

Spi. Why how now, base Thomas ? *S wounds ! wert 
thou a bass -viol, thou art but a rascal and a rebel, as I 



2 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 

am, hearest thou ? If I do not turn true subject, and 
leave thee, let me be worried with dogs. 'Swounds ! 
dost thou impeach my manhood? Tom Neville, thou 
had'st as good to have damned thyself as uttered such a 
word. Flatly, I forsake thee; and all that love Ned 
Spicing, follow me ! [The rest offer to follow. 

FaL Come, come, ye testy fool, thou seest me griev'd, 
Yet can'st not bear with mine infirmity. 
Thou know'st 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 resolvfed, valiant. A plague upon it ! 
Thou know'st I love thee ; yet if a word escape 
My lips in anger, how testy then thou art ! 
I had rather all men left me than thyself. 
Thou art my soul : thou art my genius. 
I cannot live without thee, not an hour. 
(Aside.) Thus must I still be forc'd, against my will, 
To soothe this dirty slave, this cowardly rascal. 
(Aloud.) Come, come, be friends, ye testy firebrand ! 
We must retire. There is no remedy. 

Spi. Nay, Tom, if thou wilt have me mount on the 

walls, 

And cast myself down headlong on their pikes, 
I'll 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 thought'st not as thou spakest. 

FaL No 3 on my soul ! thou thinfst not that I did. 
Sound a retreat there, I command ye, strait f 
But whither shall we retire ? 

Spi. To Mile-end Green. There is no fitter place. 

FaL Then let us back retire to Mile-end Green, 
And there expect fresh succour from our friends, 



SCENE VI. KING EDWARD IV. 23 

With such supply as shall ere long assure 

The city is our own. March on 1 Away i [Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. continues. 

Enter the Lord Mayor, with his train, and the 
Apprentices. 

Mayor. Ye have bestirr'd ye like good citizens, 
And shown yourselves true subjects to your king. 
You worthily, prentices, bestirr'd yourselves, 
That it did cheer my heart to see your valour. 
The rebels are retir'd to Mile-end Green. 

Mec. Where so we may not suffer them to rest, 
But issue forth upon them with fresh force. 

Jos. 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 5 
for causes and things must indeed be looked into. 

Mayor. 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 Guildhall, 
To take advice what further must be done. [Exeunt. 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. Shore's House. 
Enter SHOB.E and JANE, his Wife. 

Shore. Be not afraid, sweetheart, the worst is past: 
God have the praise, the victory is our's. 
We have prevail'd : the rebels are repulsM, 
And every street of London soundeth joy. 
Can'st thou, then, gentle Jane, be sad alone ? 



THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 

Jane. I am not sad now you are here with mo, 

joy, my hope, my comfort, and my love, 
My dear, dear husband, kindest Matthew Shore. 
But when these arms, the circles of my soul, 
Were in the fight so forward, as I heard, 
How could I choose, sweetheart, but be afraid ? 

Shore. Why dost thou tremble now, when peril's past ? 

Jane. I think upon the horror of the time. 
But tell me why you fought so desperately ? 

Shore. First, to maintain King Edward's royalty ; 
Next, to defend the city's liberty ; 
But chiefly, Jane, to keep thee from the soil 
Of him that to my face did vow thy spoil. 
Had he prevail'd, where then had been our lives ? 
Dishonoured our daughters, ravish' d our fair wives j 
Possess'd our goods, and set our servants free ; 
Yet all this nothing to the loss of thce. 

Jane. Of me, sweetheart ? why how should I be lost ? 
Were I by thousand storms of fortune tost, 
And should endure the poorest wretched life, 
Yet Jane will be thy honest loyal wife. 
The greatest prince the sun did ever see, 
Shall never make me prove untrue to thee. 

Shore. I fear not fair means, but a rebel's force. 

Jane. These hands shall make this body a dead corse 
Ere force or flatt'ry shall mine honour stain. 

Shore. True fame survives, when death the flesh hath 
slain. 

Enter an Officer from tJie Lord Mayor. 

Officer. God save ye, master Shore, and, mistress, by 

your leave 5, 

Sir, my lord Mayor sends for you by me, 
And prays your speedy presence at Guildhall. 
There's news the rebels have made head again, 



SCBNK II. KING EDWARD IV. 25 

And have ensconc'd themselves upon Mile-end, 

And presently our armed men must out. 

You being Captain of two companies, 

In honour of your valour and your skill, 

Must lead the vaward. God and right stand with ye I 

Shore. Friend, tell my lord I'll wait upon him strait. 

Jane. 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. 

Shore. Peace, wife ; no more. Friend, I will follow ye. 

Esrit Officer. 

Jane. I'faith, ye shall not. Prithee, do not go. 

Shore. Not go, sweetheart ? that were a coward's trick, 
A traitor's part, to shrink when others fight. 
Envy shall never say that Matthew Shore, 
The goldsmith, stay'd, when other men went out 
To meet his King's and country's enemy. 
No, Jane 5 'gainst all the rebels on Mile-end, 
I dare alone King Edward's right defend. 

Jane. If you be slain, what shall become of me ? 

Shore. Right well, my wench: enow will marry thee. 
1 leave thee worth at least five thousand pound. 

Jane. Marry again ? that word my heart doth wound. 
(Weeps.) I'll never marry, nor I will not live 
If thou be killM. Let me go with thee, Mat. 

Shore. 'Tis idle talk, good Jane 5 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. 

Jane* To part from thee, my very heart doth bleed. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Mile End. 
Enter FALCONBRIDGE with his Troops, marching. 

FaL Yet stand we in the sight of uprear^d Troy, 
And suck the air she draws: our very breath 



26 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 

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 your's, 

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 seiz'd my land, and robb'd 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 Mile-end Green, 

Whom if we vanquish, then we take the town, 

And ride in triumph thorough Cheap to Paul's. 

The Mint is our's, Cheap, Lombard Street, our own ; 

The meanest soldier wealthier than a king. 

SpL March fair, ye rogues, all kings or capknitters. 
Dost thou hear, Tom Falconbridge ? I prithee grant me 
one boon I shall ask thee. 

FaL What is it, Ned ? it's hard I should deny thee. 

Spi. 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. 

FaL What then? 

Spi. What then ? Zounds, I scorn your scurvy, wry- 
mouthed " What then ?" Now, a pox take me if I fight 
a blow. 

FaL Why this is fine. Go to ; knight whom thou wilt, 

Spi. Who? I knight any of them? I'll see them 
hanged first for a company of tattered ragged rascals. 
If I were a king, I would not knight one of them. 

Chub. What 9 not me, Cavallero Chub ? 



SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 27 

Spi. Yes, I care not if I knight thee ; and yet I'll see 
thee hanged ere I'll honour thee so much. I care not so 
much for the matter ; but I would nut be denied my 
humour. 

FaL Why, what a perverse fellow art thou, Ned ! 

Spi. Ho, my fine Tom, my brave Falconbridge, my 
mad Greek, my lusty Neville ! thou art a king, a Csesar ! 
a plague on thee ; I love thee not, and yet I'll die with 
thee. 

Enter the Lord Mayor, Recorder, JOSSELIN, SHORE, and 
their Soldiers, marching. 

Mayor. See how rebellion cm exalt itself, 
Pruning the feathers of sick r^iscipliue. 

Rec. They think they can outlook our truer looks. 

Shore. Mark but the scornful eye of Falconbridge. 

Mayor. I rather think 'tis fear upon his cheek 
Deciphers pale disturbance in his heart. 

Jos. Our coming forth hath well, I say no more 3 
But shall we take occasion, and so forth ? 
Rebellion should have no respite. Oh, my lord, 
The time hath been but all is one for that. 

Spi. How like a troop of rank o'erridden jades 
Yon bushy-bearded citizens appear ! 

Chub. Nay ; rather so many men in the moon, 
And every one a furzen bush in his mouth* 

Spi. The four and twenty wards ! now, fair befal them ; 
Would any one have thought before this hour, 
There had been such increase of muddy slaves ? 

Fal. Peace, soldiers 1 they are resolute, you see ; 
And not to flatter us, nor favour them, 
Such haughty stomachs seldom have been seen 
Imbodied in the breasts of citizens. 
How sternly in their own peculiar strength, 
Without the assistance of their lingering king, 



28 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 

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 incens'd than wo arc, 
I would not but commend their chivalry. 

Spi. Captain, shall we go challenge them to fight? 
'Sblood I we burn daylight ; they will think, anon, 
We are afraid to see their glittering swords. 

Chub. Tell them, they come instead of pudding pies 
And Stratford cakes, to make's a banquet here. 

Fal. Soft j give me leave ; I will devise with words 
To weaken and abash their fortitude. 

Rec. The bastard offers to come forth, my lord. 

Mayor. I am the man intends to answer him* 

Fal. Crosby! 

Mayor. Traitor ! 

AIL Traitor ! zounds, down with him I 

Fal. Be patient : give me leave, I say, to speak. 
I doubt not but the traitor's name shall rest 
With those that keep 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 wrapt up 
Until your lofty buildings kiss our feet, 
Unless you grant me passage through your streets. 

Rec. Passage, say'st thou? That must be o'er our 

breasts, 
If any passage thou art like to have. 

FaL Why then upon your bodies will I tread, 
And wade through standing pools of your lost blood. 

Shore. We know thy threats, and reckon them as wind, 
Not of sufficient power to shake a reed. 

SpL But we shook your gates not long ago, 
And made your walls to shake like Irish bogs. 

Chub. Ay, and so terrified ye, that not one of ye durst 



SCENE H. KING EDWARD IV. 29 

come to fetch a pint of sack at the Mouth at Bishopsgate ; 
no, not for your lives. 

Jos. Ay, but you know what followed, and so forth. 

Spi. Et caetera ! are you there ? methinks, the sight 
of the dun bull, the Neville's honoured crest, should 
make you leave your broken sentences, and quite forget 
ever to speak at all. 

Shore. Nay, then, look thou upon our City's 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 ? 

Rec. Since when, it is successively decreed, 
Traitors with us shall never better speed. 

Spi. Captain and fellow-soldiers, talk no more, 
But draw your meaning forth in downright blows. 

Fal. Sound then alarum. 

Mayor. Do the like for us, 
And where the right is, there attend success ! 

Jos. Stay, and be better advis'd. 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 should' st repose such confidence in glass ; 
Shall I inform thee ? No, thou art wise enough. 
Edward of York delays the time, you say ; 
Therefore he will not come. Imagine so. 
The city's weak. Hold that opinion still. 
And your pretence King Henry's liberty. 
True 5 but as how ? Shall I declare you? No. 
What then ? you'll fight. A God's name, take your choice. 
I can no more but give you my advice. 

FaL Away with this parenthesis of words. 
Crosby, courage thy men, and on this Green 
Whose cause is right, let it be quickly seen. 



80 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 

Mayor. I am ready as thou canst desire. 
On then, a God's name ! 

[Theyfght. The rebels drive them back. Then 
enter FALCONBRIDGE and SPICING. 

Fal. 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. 

Spi. Oh, brave Tom Neville, gallant Falconbridge, 
I aim at thy intended policy ; 
This is thy meaning ; while thou art employed 
And hold'st them battle here on Mile-end 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. 

Fal. Away, then ! I will follow as I may, 
And doubt not but that our's will be the day. 

[After some excursiotis, enter Lord 
Mayor and SHORE. 

Mayor. We have recover VI what before wo lost, 
And Heav'n stands with the justice of our cause. 
But this I noted in the fight even now, 
That part of this rebellious crew 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 Shore, as I repose 
Trust in thy valour and thy loyalty, 
Draw forth three hundred bowmen and some pikes, 
And presently encounter their assault. 



SCENE IT. KING EDWARD IV. 31 

Shore. I have your meaning ; and effect, my lord, 
I trust shall disappoint them of their hope. [Exit. 

[After an alarum, enter SPICING with 

a Drum, and certain Soldiers. 

Spi. Come on, my hearts, we will be kings to-night, 
Carouse in gold, and sleep with merchants' wives, 
While their poor husbands lose their lives abroad : 
We are now quite behind our enemies' backs, 
And there's 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 marches? thinking to enter the Gates, SHORE 
and his Soldiers issue forth and repulse him. Aftet* 
excursions, wherein the Rebels are dispersed, enter 
Mayor, Recorder, SHORE, JOSSELIN, and a Mes- 
senger talking with the Mayor. 
Mayor. Ay, my good friend, so certify his Grace, 
The rebels are dispersed all and fled, 
And now his Highness meets with victory. 

[Eatit Messenger. 

Marshal 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 to-day ! 
And how much is this city fam'd for ever, 
That twice, without the help either of King, 
Or any but of God and our own selves, 
We have prevailed against our country's foes. 
Thanks to His Majesty assisted us, 
Who always helps true subjects in their need ! 
[The trumpets sound, and then enter King 

Lord HOWARD, BELLINGER, and the train. 
King. Where is my Lord Mayor ? 



32 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IT. 

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, 
Dispers'd and fled, that now remains no doubt 
Of ever making head to vex us more. 

King. You have not ta'en the bastard Falconbridge, 
Or is he slain ? 

Mayor. 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 profferVl grace 
Yielded themselves, and at your mercy stand. 

King. 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 ta'en for Falconbridge 
And his confederates in this rebellion ? 

Mayor. 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. 

King. 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 deserv'd in these affairs, 
Affairs, I mean, of so main consequence. 
Kneel down and all of you receive in field 
The honour you have merited in field. 

[Draws 7m sword and knights them. 



SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 33 

Arise Sir John Crosby, Lord Mayor of London and 

Knight. 

Arise up Sir Ralph Josselin, Knight. 
Arise Sir Thomas Urswick, our Recorder of London and 

Knight. 
Now tell me which is Master Shore. 

Mayor. This same, my lord ; 
And hand to hand he fought with Falconbridge* 

King. Shore, kneel thou down. What call ye else 
his name? 

Rec. His name is Matthew Shore, my lord. 

Kmg. Shore I 

Why kncePst thou not, and at thy Sovereign's hand 
Receive thy right ? 

Shore. 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 Matthew Shore 
That he should be advanc'd with Aldermen, 
With our Lord Mayor, and our right grave Recorder. 
If any thing hath been perform'd 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. 

King* Well, be it as thou wilt 3 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, 



34 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 

And bring your King a little on his way. 
How say you, my lord ; shall it be so ? 

Mayor. Now God forbid but that my lord the King 
Should always have his subjects at command ! 

Jos. Forbid, quotha ! Ay, in good sadness : your ma- 
jesty shall find us always ready, and so forth. 

King. Why, then, set forward, gentlemen ; 
And come, lord Mayor, I must confer with you. 

[JExeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. 

Enter FALCQNBRIDGE and SPICING, with their iveapons 
in their hands. 

Spi. Art thou the man whose victories drawn at sea 
FilFd every heart with terror of thy name ? 
Art thou that Neville 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 appear. 
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 can'st give ? 
Hast thou ensnar'd our heedless feet with death, 
And brought us to the gibbet of defame, 
And now dost bid us shift and save ourselves ! 
No, craven ! were I sure I should be ta'en, 
I would not stir my feet, until this hand 
Had veng'd me on thee for misguiding us. 

FaL Opprobrious villain ! stable excrement ! 
That never dream'dst of other manhood yet, 
But how to jerk a horse, until my words 
Infus'd into thee resolution's fire, 



SCENE III. KING EDWATID IV. 35 

Controirst thou me for that wherein thyself 
Art only the occasion of mishap ? 
Hadst thou and they stood to't as well as I, 
The day had been our own, and London now, 
That laughs in triumph, should have wept in tears. 
But, being back'd by such faint-hearted slaves, 
No marvel if the Lion go to wrack. 
As though it were not incident to kings 
Sometime to take repulse : mine is no more. 
Nor is it 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. 

Spi. Oh, prejudice to Spicing's conquering name, 
Whose valour ev'n 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 appeas'd. 

FaL Away, ye scoundrel ! tempt not my resolve. 
The courage that survives in Falconbridge 
Scorns the encounter of so base a drudge. 

Spi. 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. 

Fal* 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. 

[Theyjight. 



36 THE FIRST PART OF ACT If. 

Enter CHUB. 

Chub. Hold, if ye be men ; if not, hold as ye are, 
rebels and strong thieves, I bring ye news of a procla- 
mation. 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. 

SpL This proclamation comes in happy tim e. 
I'll vanquish Falconbridge, and with this sword 
Cut off his head and bear it to tlje King. 
So not alone shall I be pai'doned, 
But have the thousand crowns is promised. 

FaL This rascal was ordain 'd to save my life. 
For now, when I have overthrown the wretch, 
Ev'n with his head I'll 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. 

Chub. Oh, that I knew how to betray them both I 

FaL How say'st thou, Spicing ? wilt thou yield thyself? 
For I have vow'd either alive or dead 
To bring thee to King Edward. 

Spi. And I have vow'd the like by thee : 
How will these two bad contraries agree ? 

Chub. And I the same by both of you. 

FaL Come, sir, I'll quickly rid you of that care. 

Spi. And what thou lottest me shall be thy share. 

Enter a Miller. 

Chub. Hfire comes a miller. Help to part the fray. 
These are the rebels Falconbridge and Spicing. 
The worst of them is worth a thousand crowns. 

MIL Marry, and such a booty would I have. 
Submit, submit; it is in vain to strive. 

[Exit FALCONBRIDGE. 



SCENE III. KING EDWAftD IV. 37 

Spi. Why, what art thou ? 

Mil. One that will hamper you. 
But what's the other that is fled away ? - 

Chub. Oh 3 miller, that was Falconbridge, 
And this is Spicing, his companion. 

Spi. I tell thee, miller, thou hast been the means 
To hinder the most charitable deed 
That ever honest Christian undertook. 

Chub. Thou cannest bear me witness, I had ta'en 
That most notorious rebel., but for him. 

Mil. But I have taken thee ; and the world knows 
That Spicing is as bad as who is best. 

Spi. Why, thou mistakest : I am a true subject. 

Chub. Miller, he lies : be sure to hold him fast. 

Spi. Dost thou accuse me ? apprehend him too, 
For he's as guilty as any of us. 

Mil. Come, you shall both together answer it 
Before my Lord Mayor; and here he comes. 



Lord Mayor, JOSSELIN, and Attendants, 

Mayor. Sir Ralph Jossolin, have you ever seen a 
prince more affable than Edward is ? What merry talk 
he had upon the way ! 

Jos. Doubtless, my lord, he'll prove a royal King. 
But how now ; what are these ? 

Mil. 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 ; 
Aud taking them for vagrant idle knaves, 
That had beset some true man from his house, 
I came to keep the peace ; but afterward 
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. 



38 THE FIRST PART QJf ACT II. 

Mayor. It is the rebel Spicing. 

Spi . It is indeed ; 
I see you are not blind ; you know me then. 

Mayor. Well, miller, thou hast done a subject's part, 
And worthily deserv'st that recompence 
Is publickly proclaimed by the King. 
But what's 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. 

Chub. A 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. 

Spi. Out, rogue ! dost thou recant for fear of death ? 
Ay, mayor, I am he that sought to cut your throat ; 
And since I have miscarried in the fact, 
Til ne'er deny it, do the worst you can. 

Mayor. Bring him away. He shall have martial law, 
And, at the next tree we do come unto, 
Be hang'd, 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 sav'd 
On this condition, that you hang up Spicing. 
How saist thou ? wilt thou do it ? 

Chub. Will I do it ? what a question is that ! I would 
hang him if he were my father, to save mine own life. 

Mayor. Then, when ye have done it, come home to 
my house, and there ye truly shall have your reward. 

Spi. Well, sirrah, then thou must be my hangman ? 

Chub. Ay, by my troth, sir, for fault of a better. 

Spi. Well, commend me to little Pirn, and pray her 
to redeem my paned hose : they lie at the Blue Boar for 
eleven pence, and if my hostess will have the other odd 



SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV, 39 

penny, tell her she is a damned bawd, and there is no 
truth in her score. 

Chub. Take no thought, sir, for your paned hose. 
They are lousy, and not worth the redeeming. 

Spi. 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. 

Chub. Ay, sir \ but here's a thing shall take an order 

for that. 

Spi. Commend me to black Luce, bouncing Bess, and 
lusty Kate, and the other pretty morsels of man's flesh. 
Farewell, pink and pinnace, flyboat and carvel, Turnbull 
and Spittal ! I die like a man. 

Chub. Oh, 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. . [Exeunt. 

ACT III. 

SCENE I. The Country. 
Enter HOBS, the Tanner of Tamsworth. 

Hobs. Dudgeon ! dost thou hear ? look well to Brock, 
my mare. Drive Dun and her fair and softly down the 
hill 5 and take heed the thorns tear not the horns of my 
cow-hides, as thou goest near the hedges. Ha, what 
sayest thou, knave ? Is the bull's hide down ? why, lay 
it up again ; what care I ? I'll meet thee at the style, 
and help to set all strait. And yet, God help ! it's a 
crooked world, and an unthrifty ; for some, that have 



40 THE FIRST PART OF ACT Til. 

ne'er a shoe, had rather go barefoot than buy clout- 
leather to mend the old, when they can buy no new ; for 
they have time enough to mend all, they sit so long be- 
tween 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's 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 cow- 
hides cost me. 



Enter the Queen and Duchess with their riding 
unpinning their masks. HOBS goes forward. 

^Snails, who comes here ? Mistress Ferris, or Mistress 
What call ye her ? Put up, John Hobs : money tempts 
beauty. 

Duch. Well met, good fellow : saw'st thou not the hart? 

Hobs, My heart ? God bless me from seeing my heart. 

Duch. Thy heart ? the deer, man ; we demand the deor. 

Hobs. Do you demand what's dear ? Marry, corn and 
cow-hides. Mass, a good snug lass, well like my daughter 
Nell. I had rather than a bend of leather she and I 
might smoueh together. 

Duch. Cam'st thou not down the wood ? 

Hobs. Yes, mistress ; that I did. 

DucJi. And sawest thou not the deer itnbost ? 

Hobs. By my hood, ye make me laugh. What the 
dickens ? is it love that makes ye prate to me so fondly ? 
By my father's soul, I would I had job'd faces with you. 

Hunts. Why, how now, Hobs? so saucy with the 
Duchess and the Queen ? 

Hobs. Much Queen, I trow ! these be but women : and 
one of them is like my wench. 1 would she had her 



SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 41 

rags. I would give a load of hair and horns, and a fat of 
leather, to match her to some justice, by the meg- holly. 

Hunts. Be silent. Tanner, and ask pardon of the 
Queen. 

Hobs* And ye be the Queen, I cry ye mercy, good 
M istressQueen. 

Queen. No fault, my friend. Madam, let's take our bows, 
And in the standing seek to get a shoot. 

DucJi. Come, bend our bows, and bring the herd of 
deer. [Exeunt. 

Hobs, (solus.) God send ye good standing, and good 
striking, and fat flesh ! See, if all gentlewomen bejipt 
alike when their black faces be on ! I took the queen, 
as I am a true tanner, for mistress Ferris. 

Enter SELLING ER and HOWARD (in green). 

Soft, who comes here ? more knaves yet ? 

Bel. Ho, good fellow ! sawest thou not the King ? 

Hobs. No, good fellow ! I saw no king. Which king- 
dost thou ask for ? 

How. Why, King Edward. What king is there else ? 

Hobs. There's another king, and ye could hit on him ; 
one Harry, one Harry ; and, by our Lady, they say he's 
the lionoster man of the two. 

Scl Sirrah, beware you speak not treason. 

Hobs. What, if I do? 

Sel. Then shalt thou be hanged. 

Hobs. A dog's death : I'll not meddle with it ; for, by 
my troth, I know not when I speak treason, when I do 
not. There's such halting betwixt two kings, that a 
man cannot go upright, but he shall offend t'one of them* 
I would God had them both, for me. 

How. Well, thou sawest not the King. 

Hobs. No ; is he in the country ? 

How. He's hunting here, at Drayton Basset. 



42 THE FIRST TART OF ACT III. 

Hobs. The devil he is ? God bless his mastership ! I 
saw a woman here, that they said was the Queen. She's 
as like my daughter, but my daughter is the fairer, as 
ever I see, 

Set. Farewell, fellow ; speak well of the King. 

[Exeunt. 

Hods. (Solus.} God make him an honest man .' I hope 
that's well spoken; for, by the mouse-foot, some give 
him hard words, whether he 'zerves 'em not. Let him 
look to that. I'll meddle of my cow-hide, and let the 

world slide. 

Enter the King, disguised* 

The devil in a dung- cart f How these roysters swarm 
in the country, now the King is so near ! God 'liver me 
from this 5 for this looks like a thief 5 but a man cannot 
tell amongst these court-nols who's true. 

King. Holla, my friend ! good fellow, prithee, stay. 

Hobs. No such matter. I have more haste of my way. 

King. If thou be a good fellow, let me borrow a word. 

Hobs. My purse, thou meanest. I am no good fellow $ 
and I pray God thou beest not one. 

King. Why ? dost thou not love a good fellow ? 

Hobs. No : good fellows be thieves. 

King, Dost thou think I am one ? 

Hobs. Thought is free $ and thou art not my ghostly 
father. 

King. I mean thee no harm. 

Hobs. Who knows that but thyself? I pray God he 
spy not my purse. 

King. On my troth, I mean thee none. 

Hobs. Upon thy oath, I'll stay. Now, what sayest 
thou to me ? speak quickly ; for my company stays for 
me beneath, at the next style. 

King. The king is hunting hereabouts. Didst thou 
see his Majesty ? 



SCENE I. KING BDWABD IV. 43 

Hobs. His majesty? what's that? his horse or his 
mare ? 

King. Tush I I mean his Grace ? 

Hobs. Grace, quotha ? pray God he have any ! Which 
king dost thou 'quire for ? 

King. Why, for King Edward. Knowest thou any 
more kings than one ? 

Hobs. I know not so many; for I tell thee I know 
none. Marry, I hear of King Edward. 

King. Didst thou see his Highness ? 

Hobs, By my holidame, that's the best term thou 
gavest him yet : he's high enough ; but he has put poor 
King Harry low enough. 

King. How low hath he put him ? 

Hobs. Nay, I cannot tell ; but he has put him down, 
for he has got the crown ; much good do't him with it.. 

King. Amen. I like thy talk so well, I would I knew 
thy name. 

Hobs. Dost thou not know me ? 

King. No. 

Hobs. Then thou knowest nobody. Didst never hear 
of John Hobs, the tanner of Tamworth ? 

King. Not till now, I promise thee \ but now I like 
thee well. 

Hobs. So do not I thee. I fear thou art some out- 
rider, that lives by taking of purses here, on Basset's 
Heath. But I fear thee not, for I have wared all my 
money in cowhides at Coleshill Market, and my man and 
my mare are hard by at the hill-foot. 

King. Is that thy gray mare, that's tied at the style, 
with the hides on her back ? 

Hobs. That's Brock, my mare; and there's Dun, my 
nag, and Dudgeon, my man. 

King* There's neither man nor hor&x* ; but only one 
mare. 



44 THE FIRST TART OF ACT ill. 

Hobs. God's blue budkin ! has the knave served me so ? 
Farewell ! I may lose hides, horns, and mare and all, by 
prating with thee. 

King. Tarry, man, tarry ! they'll sooner take my geld- 
ing than thy gray mare 5 for I have tied mine by her. 

Hobs. That will I see, afore Til take your word. 

King. I'll bear thee company. 

Hobs. I had as lieve go alone, [Exeunt. 

Re-enter the two Huntsmen, with the Boivs. 

First Hunts. Now, on my troth, the Queen shoots pass- 
ing well. 

Sec. Hunts. So did the Duchess, when she was as young. 

First Hunts. Age shakes the hand, aud shoots both 
wide and short. 

Sec. Hunts. What have they given us ? 

First Hunts. Six rose-nobles just. 

Sec. Hunts. The Queen gave four. 

first Hunts. True ; and the Duchess twain. 

Sec. Hunts. Oh, were we ever so paid for our pain ! 

First Hunts. Tut 1 had the King come, as they said 

he would, 
He would have rain'd upon us showVs of gold. 

Sec. Hunts. Why, he is hunting somewhere hereabout. 
Let's first go drink and then go seek him out. \Exeunt* 

Re-enter the King and HOBS. 

King. Hay say'st thou, tanner? wilt thou take my 
courser for thy mare ? 

Hobs. Courser, calPst 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 
scorce, what boot would'st thou give me ? 

King. Nay, boot that's boot worthy. I look for boot 
of thee. 



SCENE T. KINO EDWARD TV. 45 

Hobs. Ha, ha ! a merry jig. Why, man, "Brock, my 
mare, knows ha and ree, and will stand when I cry ?w, 
and let me get up and down, and make water when I do. 

King. Fll give thee a noble, if I like her pace. Lay 
thy cowhides on my saddle, and let's jog towards Drayton. 

Hobs. 'Tis out of my way ; but I begin to like thee well. 

King. Thou wilt like me better before we do part. 
I prithee tell me, what say they of the King. 

Hobs. Of the Kings, thou meanest. Art thou no blab, 
if I tell thee ? 

King. If the King know't not now, he shall never 
know it for me. 

Hobs. Mass, they say King Harry's a very advowtry man . 

King. A devout man ? And what King Edward ? 

Hobs. He^s a frank franion, a merry companion, and 
loves a wench well. They say he has married a poor 
widow, because she's fair. 

King. Dost thou like him the worse for that ? 

Hobs. No ; by my feckins, but the better ; for, though 
I be a plain tanner, I love a fair lass myself, 

King. Prithee tell me, how love they king Edward ? 

Hobs. 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 'tis 
comfort ; but every day would beggar us ; and I may 
say to thee, we fear we shall be troubled to lend him 
money 5 for we doubt he's but needy. 

King. Wouldst thou lend him no money, if he should 
need? 

Hobs. By my halidome, yes. He shall have half my 
store 3 and I'll sell sole leather to help him to more. 

King. Faith, whether thou lovest better Harry or 
Edward? 

Hobs. Nay, that's counsel, and two may keep it, if 
one be away. 



46 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 

King. Shall I say my conscience ? I think Harry is 
the true king. 

Hobs. Art advised of that ? Harry's of the old house 
of Lancaster ; and that progenity do I love. 

King. And thou dost not hate the house of York ? 

Hobs. Why, no ; for I am just akin to Sutton Wind- 
mill ; I can grind which way soe'er the wind blow. If 
it be Harry, I can say, fe Well fare, Lancaster." If it 
be Edward, I can sing, " York, York, for my money. 5 ' 

King. Thou art of my mind ; but I say Harry is the' 
lawful king. Edward is but an usurper, and a fool, and 
a coward. 

Hobs. Nay, there thou liest. He has wit enough and 
courage enough. Dost thou not speak treason ? 

King. Ay, but I know to whom I speak it. 

Hobs. Dost thou ? Well, if I were constable, I should 
be forsworn, if I set thee not in the stocks for it. 

King. Well, let it go no further; for 1 did serve King- 
Harry, and I love him best, though now I serve King 
Edward. 

Hobs. Thou art the arranter knave to speak ill of thy 
master. But, sirrah, what's thy name ? what office hast 
thou ? and what will the King do for thee ? 

King. My name is Ned. I am the King's butler ; and 
he will do more for me than for any nobleman in the 
court. 

Hobs. The devil he will ? he's the more fool ; and so 
I'll tell him, if e'er I see him ; and I would I might see 
him in my poor house at Tamworth. 

King. Go with me to the Court, and I'll bring thee to 
the King; and what suit soe'er thou have to him, Til 
warrant thee to speed. 

Hobs. I ha' nothing to do at Court. I'll home with 
my cowhides ; and if the King will come to me, he shall 
be welcome. 



SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 47 

King. Hast them no suit touching thy trade, to trans- 
port hides or sell leather only in a certain circuit; or 
about bark, or such like, to have letters patent ? 

Hobs. By the mass and the matins, I like not those 
patents. 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's amiss, and 
for money they make the thing worse than it is. There's 
another thing in too, the more is the pity. 

King* What pity, John Hobs ? I prithee say all. 

Hobs. Faith, 'tis pity that one subject should have in 
his hand that might do good to many through the land. 

King. Say*st thou me so, tanner? Well, let's cast 
lots whether thou shalt go with me to Drayton, or I go 
home with thee to Tamworth. 

Hobs. Lot me no lotting. I'll not go with thee. If 
thou wilt go with me, 'cause th'art my liege's man (and 
yet I think he has many honester), thou shalt be welcome 
to John Hobs ; thou shalt be welcome to beef and bacon, 
and perhaps a bag-pudding ; and my daughter Nell shall 
pop a posset upon thee, when thou goest to bed. 

King. Here's my hand. Til but go and see the King 
s* -ved, and I'll be at home as soon as thyself. 

Hobs. Dost thou hear me, Ned ? If I shall be thy host, 
Make haste thou art best, for fear thou kiss the post. 

[Exit HOBS. 

King. Farewell, John 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. 

Enter HOWARD and SELLINGEK. 
How now? what news bring ye, sirs ? Where's the Queen ? 



48 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 

SeL Her highness and your mother, my dread lord, 
Are both invited by Sir Humphrey Bowes, 
Where they intend to feast and lodge this night ; 
And do expect your grace's presence there. 

King. Tom Bellinger and I have other business, 
Astray from you and all my other train. 
I met a tanner, such a merry mate, 
So frolick 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 5 
Let them both sup and sleep when they see time. 
Commend me kindly to Sir Humphrey Bowes : 
Tell hiin 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, 
gives tliem to the King. 

How. The Queen and Duchess will be discontent, 
Because his highness comes not to the feast. 

SeL Sir Humphrey Bowes may take the most conceit 5 
But what's the end ? the King will have his pleasure. 

King. Good news, my boys I Harry the Sixth is dead. 
Peruse that letter. Sirrah, drink you that. 

[Gives the Messenger his purse. 
And stay not ; but post back again for life, 
And thank my brother Gloster for his news : 
Commend me to him ; I'll see him to-morrow night. 
How like ye it, sirs ? [Exit Messenger. 

SeL Oh, passing well, my liege; 
You may be merry for these happy news, 



SCENK II. KING EDWARD IV. 49 

King. 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'll post to London : so good night, my lord. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The Tanner's House. 
Enter HOBS and his daughter NELL. 

Hobs. Come, Noll ! come, daughter. Is your hands 
and your face washed ? 

NelL Ay, forsooth, father. 

Hobs. Ye must be cleanly, I tell ye $ for there comes 
a courtnol hither to-night, the King's mastership's but- 
ler, Ned, a spruce youth ; but beware ye be not in love 
nor overtaken by him, for courtiers be slippery lads. 

NelL No, forsooth, father. 

Hobs. God's blessing on thee ! That half-year's school- 
ing at Litchfield was better to thee than house and land. 
It has put such manners into thee "Ay, forsooth," 
and "No, forsooth," at every word. Ye have a clean 
smock on. I like your apparel well. Is supper ready ? 

Nell. Ay, forsooth, father. 

Hobs. Have we a good barley bag-pudding, a piece of 
fat bacon, a good cow-heel, a hard cheese, and a brown 
loaf? 

Nell. All this, forsooth, and more. Ye shall have a 
posset j but indeed the rats have spoiled your hard cheese. 

Hobs. Now, the devil choke them ! So they have eat 
me a farthing candle the other night. 

Dudgeon (ivithiri) . What, master, master ! 

Hobs. How now, knave? what say'st thou, Dudgeon? 

Dud. Here's guests come. Where's Helen ? 

Hobs. What guests be they ? 



SO THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 

Dud. A courtnol; one Ned, the King's butcher, he 
says, and his friend too. 

Hobs. Ned, the King's butcher ? Ha, ha ! the King's 
butler. Take their horses and walk them, and bid thorn 
come near house. Nell, lay the cloth, and clap supper 
o' th' board. [Exit NELL. 

Enter King EDWAHD and SELLINGER. 

Mass., here's Ned, indeed, and another misproud ruffian. 
Welcome, Ned ! I like thy honesty j thou keopest promise, 

King. I'faith, honest tanner, I'll ever keep promise 
with thee- Prithee, bid my friend welcome. 

Hobs. By my troth, ye are both welcome to Tamworth. 
Friend, I know not your name. 

Sel. My name is Tom Twist. 

Hobs. Believe, ye that list. But ye are welcome both ; 
and I like ye both well but for one thing. 

Sel. What's that ? 

Hobs. Nay, that I keep to myself; for I sigh to see 
and think that pride brings many one to extraction. 

King. Prithee, tell us thy meaning. 

Hobs. Troth, I doubt ye ne'er came truly by all these 
gay rags. 'Tis 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 probicality. 

Sel. Think *st thou so, tanner ? 

Hobs. 'Tis no matter what I think. Como, let's go 
to supper. What Nell ! What Dudgeon ! Where bo 
these folks? 

Enter NELL and DUPGEON, with a table covered. 

Daughter, bid my friends welcome. 

Nell. Ye are welcome, gentlemen, as I may say. 
SeL I thank ye, fair maid. [Both kiss her. 



SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 51 

King. A pretty wench, by my fay ! 
Hobs. How likest her, Ned? 

King. I like her so well, I would ye would make me 
your son-in-law. 

Hobs. And I like thee so well, Ned, that, hadst thou 
an occupation (for service is no heritage ; a young cour- 
tier, an old beggar), I could find in my heart to cast her 
away upon thee ; and if thou wilt forsake the court and 
turn tanner, or bind thyself to a shoemaker in Litch- 
field, I'll give thee twenty nobles ready money with my 
Nell, and trust thee with a dicker of leather to set up 
thy trade. 

SeL Ned, he offers ye fair, if ye have the grace to 
take it. 

King* He does, indeed, Tom : and hereafter I'll tell 
him more. 

Hobs. Come, sit down to supper: go to, Nell: no 
more sheep's eyes : ye may be caught, I tell ye : these 
be liquorish lads. 

Nell. I warrant ye, father 5 yet in truth Ned is a very 
proper man, and t'other may serve ; but Ned's a pearl 
in mine eye. 

Hobs. Daughter, call Dudgeon and his fellows. We'll 
have a three-men song, to make our guests merry. 

[Exit NELL. 

Nails, what courtnols are ye ? ye'll neither talk nor eat. 
What news at the court? Do somewhat for your 
meat. 

King. Heavy news there : King Henry is dead. 

Hobs. That's light news and merry for your master, 
King Edward. 

King. But how will the Commons take it ? 

Hobs. Well, God be with good King Henry ! 
Faith, the Commons will take it as a common thing. 
Death's an honest man $ for he spares not the King. 

E 2 



52 THE FIRST PART OF ACT HI. 

For as one comes, another's ta'en away \ 

And seldom comes the better, that's all we say. 

Sel. Shrewdly spoken, tanner, by my fay ! 

Hobs. Come, fill me a cup of mother Whetstone's 

ale 3 

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'll not know me. 

King. Yes, Tom shall be my surety, tanner ; I will 
know thee. 

Sel. If thou dost not, Ned, by my troth, I beshrew 
thee. 

King. I drink to my wife that may be. 

SeL Faith, Ned, thou mayest live to make her a lady. 

King. Tush ; her father offers nothing, having no more 
children but her. 

Hobs. 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 5 and no work will down 
with him, that I fear he'll be hanged. God bless you 
from a better fortune ! yet you wear such filthy brocks* 
Lord, were not this a good fashion ? yes, and would save 
many a fair penny. 

King. Let that pass, and let us hear your song. 

Hobs. Agreed, agreed ! Come, sol, sol, sol, fa, fa, fa ! 
Say, Dudgeon. 

Here they sing the three-man's Sony. 

Agincourt, Agincourt ! know ye not Agincourt ? 
Where the English slew and hurt 

All the French foemen ? 
With our Guns and Bills brown, 
Oh, the French were beat down, 
Morris-pikes and Bowmen. 
&c. 



SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 53 

SeL Well sung, good fellows ! I would the King 
heard ye ! 

Hobs. So should I, faith ; I should strain a note for 
him. Come, take away, and let's to bed. Ye shall have 
clean sheets, Ned 5 but they be coarse, good strong 
hemp, of my daughter's 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 break- 
ing earth. 

King. No matter, Hobs ; we \vill not go to bed. 

Hobs. What then ? 

King. Even what thou wilt ; for it is near day. 
Tanner, gramercies for our hearty cheer ! 
If e'er it be thy chance to come to court, 
Enquire for me, Ned, the King's butler, 
Or Tonij of the King's chamber, niy companion, 
And see what welcome we will give thee there. 

Hobs. I have heard of courtiers have said as much as 
you, and when they have been tried, would not bid their 
friends drink. 

SeL We are none such. Let our horses be brought 
out ; for we must away 5 and so, with thanks, farewell ! 

Hobs. Farewell to ye both ! Commend me to the 
King ; and tell him I would have been glad to have seen 
his worship here. [Exit. 

King. Come, Tom, for London ! horse, and hence 
away ! [Exeunt* 

ACT IV. 

SCENE I. Southampton. 

Enter SIR HENRY MORTON, the Vice-Admiral 9 and the 
Captain of the Isle of Wight, with FALCONBRIDGE- 
bound, the Headsman bearing the axe before him. 

Mor. Thomas Neville, yet hast tliou gracious time 
Of dear repentance. Now discharge thy conscience j 



54 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV, 

Lay open thy offences to the world. 

That we may witness thou dost die a Christian. 

FaL Sir Harry Morton, why have you arraigned, 
Condemn'd, 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 ? 

Copt. 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. 

FaL How charitable you would seem to be ! 
I fear anon you'll say it is for love 
You bind me thus, and bring me to the block, 
And that of mere affection you are mov'cl 
To cut my head off. Cunning policy ! 
Such butchers as yourselves never want 
A colour to excuse your slaughterous minds. 

Mor. 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 hence, 
Thou joined'st in confederacy with Prance, 
And cam'st with them to burn Southampton hero ? 
Are these no faults, thou shouldst so much presume 
To clear thyself, and lay thy blood on us ? 

FaL Hear me, Sir Harry, since we must dispute ! 

Copt. 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 Normandy ; 



SCENE I. KINt* EDWARD IV. SS 

And wilt thou stand upon thine innocence ? 
Despatch ! thou art as rightfully condemn'd 
As ever rebel was. And thou shalt die, 

FaL IP-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'd 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 of, is of so vile repute, 
That, to obtain 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. 

Mor. Go to ! leave off these idle braves of thine, 
And think upon thy soul's health, Falconbridge. 

Capt. Submit, and ask forgiveness of thy King. 

FaL What king? 

Mor. Why, Edward, of the house of York. 

FaL He is no king of mine. He doth usurp ; 
And, if the destinies had given me leave, 
I would have told him so before this time, 
And pulTd the diadem from off his head, 

Mor. Thou art a traitor. Stop the traitor's mouth. 

FaL I am no traitor : Lancaster is King. 
If that be treason to defend his right, 
What is't for them that do imprison him ? 
If insurrection to advance his sceptre, 
What fault is their's that step into his throne ? 
Oh, God ! thou pourM'st the balm upon his head ; 
Can that pure unction be wip*d off again? 



56 THE FIRST PART OF ACT TV. 

Thou once didst crown him in his infancy ; 
Shall wicked men now in his age depose him ? 
Oh, pardon me, if I expostulate 
More than becomes a sinful man to do ! 
England ! I fear thou wilt thy folly rue. 

Copt. Thou triflest time, and dost but weary us 
With dilatory questions. Make an end. 

FaL 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, metldnks, 
Thou look'st 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 turn. 

Head. Forgive me, sir, your death. 

FaL Forgive thee ? Ay, 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, i'faith, my loss I count a gain. 
First, let me see, is thy axe sharp enough ? 
I am indifferent. Well, a God's name, to this gear. 

Head. Come, and yield your head gently to the 
block. 

FaL Gently, say'st thou ? thou wilt not uso me so. 
But all is one for that. What strength thou hast, 
Throughout the whole proportion of thy limbs, 
Revoke it all into thy manly arras, 
And spare me not. I am a gentleman, 
A Neville, 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 'tis done. 

Head. I warrant you, sir : none in the land shall do it 
better. 



SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 57 

FaL Why, now thou pleasest me. England, farewell ! 
And, old Plantaganet, if thou survive, 
Think on rny love, although it did not thrive. 

[He is led forth. 

Mor. 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 Southampton here* 
How say you, captain ; are you so content ? 

Capt. With all my heart ; but I do marvel much 
We hear not of the messenger we sent, 
To give the King intelligence of this. 

MOT. Take truce with your surmises. Here he 
comes. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Fellow, it seems that thou art slow of gait, 

Or very negligent in our affairs. 

What says King Edward to our service done ? 

Mes. 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, 
*Twas told me there, that ev'n the night before, 
His highness in all haste was rid to London, 
The occasion, Henry's death within the Tower, 
Of which the people are in sundry tales. 
Some thinking he was murder'd, some again 
Supposing that he died a natural death. 

Mor. Well, howsoever, that concerns not us. 
We have to do with no man's death but his, 
That for high treason here hath lost his head. 
Come, let us give direction as before, 
And afterward make back unto the shore. 

[Exeunt. 



58 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV. 

SCENE II. London. The Mayor's House. 

Enter the Lord Mayor 9 in his scarlet gown, with a gilt 
rapier by his side. 

Mayor. Ay, marry, Crosby ! this befits thee well. 
But some will marvel that, with 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, John Crosby ! thou forget'st 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 fost'ring place : 
There did I learn that, near unto a Cross, 
Commonly call'd Cow Cross, near Islington, 
An honest citizen did chance to find me : 
A poor shoemaker by his trade he was ; 
And, doubting of my Christendom or no, 
CalTd me according to the place he found me, 
John Crosby, finding me so by a cross. 
The Masters of the Hospital, at further years, 
Bound me apprentice to the grocer's trade, 
Wherein God pleas'd to bless my poor endeavours, 
That, by his blessing, 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, John Crosby, 
In Bishopsgate Street, a poor House have I built, 
And, as my name, have calTd it Crosby House. 
And when as God shall take me from this life, 
In little Saint Helen's I will be buried. 



SCENE II. KING EDWARD IV. 59 

All this declares I boast not of my birth ; 

And 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 Shore? nay, where is mistress 

Shore ? 

Oh, I am sorry that she stays so long ! 
See what it is to be a widower, 
And lack a lady Mayoress in such need ! 

Enter SHORE and JANE SHORE. 

Oh, are ye come ? Welcome, good cousin Shore ! 
But you indeed are welcome, gentle niece ! 
Needs must you be our lady Mayoress now, 
And help us j or else we are sham'd for ever. 
Good cousin, still thus am I bold with you. 

S/iore. With all my heart, my lord, and thank ye 

too, 
That ye do please to use our homely help. 

Mayor. Why, see how neatly she bestirs herself, 
And, in good sooth, makes huswifery to shine ! 
Ah, had my lady Mayoress liv'd to see 
Fair Mistress Shore thus beautify her house, 
She would have been not little proud thereof. 

Jane. 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 fwth a table, and serve in the banquet. 

Mayor. 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 conies his highness ! 



60 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV. 

Trumpets. Enter King EDWARD, HOWARD, SELLINGEH, 
and the train. 

King. Now, my lord Mayor, have we uot 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-fac^d rebel, Falconbridge. 

Mayor. My gracious lord, what then we did, 
We did account no more than was our duty, 
Thereto obliged by true subjects' zeal 3 
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. 

King. Thanks, good lord Mayor 3 but where's my lady 

Mayoress ? 
I hope that she will bid us welcome, too. 

Mayor. She would, my liege, and with no little joy, 
Had she but liv'd to see this blessed day ; 
But in her stead this gentlewoman here, 
My cousin's wife, that office will supply. 
How say you, Mistress Shore ? 

King. How ! Mistress Shore ! what, not his wife 
That did refuse his knighthood at our hand ? 

Mayor. The very same, my lord \ and here he is. 

King. What, master Sliore, we are your debtor still; 
But, by God's grace, intend not so to die ; 
And, gentlewoman, now before your face, 
I must condemn him of discourtesy 5 
Yea, and of great wrong he hath oft'er'd you $ 



SCENE IT. KING EDWARD IV. 61 

For you had been a Lady but for him. 

He was in fault 5 trust me, he was to blame, 

To hinder virtue of her due by right. 

Jane. My gracious Lord, my poor and humble thoughts 
Ne'er had an eye to such unworthiness 5 
And though some hold it as a maxim, 
That women's minds by nature do aspire, 
Yet how, both God and Master Shore, I thank 
For my continuance in this humble state, 
And likewise how I love your majesty 
For gracious sufferance that it may be so, 
Heav*n bear true record of my inmost soul ! 
Now it remains, on my lord Mayor's behalf, 
I do such duty as becometh me, 
To bid your highness welcome to his house. 
Were welcome's virtue powerful in my word, 
The King of England should not doubt thereof. 

King. Nor do I, Mistress Shore. Now, my lord Mayor, 
Edward dare boldly swear that he is welcome. 
You spake the word well, very well, i'faith : 
But Mistress Shore her tongue hath gilded it. 
Tell me, cousin Howard, and Toin Bellinger, 
Had ever citizen so fair a wife ? 

Hoiv. Of flesh and blood I never did behold 
A woman every way so absolute. 

SeL Nor I, my liege. Were Bellinger a King, 
He could afford Shore's wife to be a queen. 

King, Why, how now, Tom ? Nay, rather, how now, 

Ned? 

What change is this? proud, saucy, roving Bye, 
What, whisper'st in my brain that she is fair ? 
I know it, I see it : fairer than my Queeu? 
Wilt thou maintain it ? What, thou traitor Heart, 
Wouldst thou shake hands in this conspiracy ? 
Down, rebel ; back, base, treacherous conceit j 



62 THE FIRST PATIT OP ACT IV. 

I will not credit thee. My Bess is fair, 

And Shore's wife but a blowze, 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, master Shore, tell me how like you this ? 

My lord Mayor makes your wife his lady Mayoress. 

Shore. So well, my lord, as better cannot be, 
All in the honour of your majesty. 

\TJie Lord Mayor brings a bowl of wine, and offers it 
to the King on his knees. 

King. Nay, drink to us, Lord Mayor; well have 

it so. 

Go to, I say ; you are our taster now. 
Drink, then, and we will pledge ye. 

Mayor. All health and happiness to my sovereign ! 

[drinks. 

King. Fill full our cup ; and, lady Mayoress, 
This full carouse we mean to drink to you 5 
And you must pledge us ; but yet no more 
Than you shall please to answer us withall. 
. [Drinks, and the trumpets sound. Then wine is pre- 
sented to her, and she offers to drink. 
Nay, you must drink to somebody ; yea, Tom, 
To thee ! Well, sirrah, see you do her right. 
For Edward would : oh, would to God he might ! 
Yet, idle Eye, wilt thou be gadding still ? 
Keep home, keep home, for fear of further ill. 

Enter a Messenger, with letters. 

How now ? Letters to us ! From whom ? 

Mes. My liege, this from the Duke of Burgundy, 
And this is from the Constable of France. 

King, What news from them ? (Reads.) 
To claim our right in France ; 



SCENE II. KINft EDWARD IV. 63 

And they will aid us. Yea, will ye so ? 
But other aid must aid us, ere we go. 

[Seems to read the letters^ but glances on 

Jane Shore while reading. 

A woman's aid, that hath more power than France 
To crown us, or to kill us with mischance. 
If chaste resolve he 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'er it be. 
Thou wrong'st thy Queen : every enforced ill 
Must be endur'd, where beauty seeks to kill. 
Thou seem'st to read, only to blind their eyes, 
Who, knowing it, thy folly would despise. 

[Starts from table. 

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. 

Mayor. God shield my Sovereign ! 

King. Nay, nothing. I shall be well anon. 

Jane. May it please your highness, sit. 

King. Ay, fain with thee. Nay, we must needs be 

gone. 

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 Shore ! Lady Mayoress, I should 

say ! 

*Tis you have caused our parting at this time. 
Farewell, master Shore ! farewell to all ! 
We'll meet once more, to make amends for this. 

[Exeunt Kinffy HOWARD, and BELLINGER. 

Mayor. Oh, God ! here to be ill ! 
My house to cause my Sovereign's discontent ! 
Cousin Shore, I had rather spent 



64 THE FIRST PART OF ACT TV. 

Shore. Content yourself, my lord ! Kings have their 

humours. 

The letters did contain somewhat, no doubt. 
That did displease him. 

Jane. So, my lord, think I. 
But, by God's help, he will be well again. 

Mayor. 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 ? 

Shore. Yes, my lord, we will. 
So, for this time, we humbly take our leave. 

[Exeunt Shore and Wife. 

Mayor. Oh, 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,- 1 trust, will bless his grace's health, 
And quickly ease him of his sudden fit. 
Take away there, ho ! rid this place \ 
And God of heaven bless my sovereign's grace ! {Exit. 

SCENE III. Shore's Shop. The sign of the Pelican. 

Enter two Apprentices, preparing the GoldsmitWs 
Shop with plate. 

First Ap. Sirrah Jack, come set out. 

Sec. Ap. You are the elder prentice ! I pray you do it, 
lest my mistress talk with you when she comes down. 
What is it o'clock ? 

First Ap. Six, by Allhallows ! 



SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 65 

Sec. Ap. Lying and stealing will bring ye to the gal- 
lows. Is here all the plate ? 

First Ap. Ay, that must serve to-day. Where is the 
weights and balance ? 

Sec, Ap. All ready. Hark, my mistress comes. 

\Exit First Ap. 

Enter JANE SHORE, ^u^th her work in her hand. 

Jane. Sir boy ! while I attend the shop myself, 
See if the workman have despatched the cup. 
How many ounces weighs it ? 

Sec. Ap. Twenty, forsooth. 

Jane. What said the gentleman to the fashion ? 

Sec. Ap. He told my master. I was not within. 

Jane. Go, sir, make haste. Your master's in Cheap- 
side. 
Take heed (ye were best) your loitering be not spied. 

[Exit Sec. Ap. 

Manet Jane, sewing. Enter the King before the shop, 
disguised. 

King. Well fare a case to put a king in yet. 
Good mistress Shore ! this doth your love procure : 
This shape is secret $ and I hope 'tis sure. 
The watermen that daily use the Court, 
And see me often, knew me not in this. 
At Lion-quay I landed in their view, 
Yet none of them took knowledge of the King. 
If any gallant strive to have the wall, 
I'll yield it gently. Soft ; here must I turn ; 
Here's Lombard Street, and here's the Pelican ; 
And there's the phoenix in the pelican's nest. 
Oh, rare perfection of rich Nature^s work ! 
Bright twinkling spark of precious diamond, 
Of greater value than all India ! 



66 THE FIRST PART OP ACT IV. 

Were there no sun, by whose kind, lovely heat, 

The earth brings forth those stones we hold of price, 

Her radiant eyes, dejected to the ground, 

Would turn each pebble to a diamond. 

Gaze, greedy eyes 5 and be not satisfied 

Till you find rest where heart's desire doth bide I 

Jane. What would you buy, sir, that you look on here ? 

King. Your fairest jewel, be it not too dear. 
First, how this sapphire, mistress, that you wear ? 

Jane. Sir, it is right 5 that will I warrant ye. 
No jeweller in London shows a better. 

King. No, nor the like ; you praise it passing well. 

Jane. Do I? No; if some lapidary had the stone, 
more would not buy it than I can demand. 'Tis as well 
set, I think, as e'er ye saw. 

King. 'Tis set, indeed, upon the fairest hand that o'er 
I saw. 

Jane. You are dispos'd to jest. But for value, his 
majesty might wear it. 

King. Might he, i'faith? 

Jane. Sir, 'tis the ring I mean, 

King. I meant the hand. 

Jane. You are a merry man : 
I see you come to cheap, and not to buy. 

King. Yet he that offers fairer than Fll do, 
Shall hardly find a partner in his bargain. 

Jane. Perhaps, in buying things of so small value, 

King. Bather^ because no wealth can purchase it. 

Jane. He were too fond, that would so highly prize 
The thing which once was given away for love. 

King. His hap was good that came so easily by it. 

Jane. The gift so small, that (ask'd) who could deny it. 

King. Oh, she gave more, that such a gift then gave. 
Than earth e'er had, or world shall ever have, 

Jane. His hap is ill, should it be as you say, 



SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 67 

That, having given him what you rate so high, 
And yet is still the poorer by the match. 

King. That easily proves he doth not know the worth. 

Jane. 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. 

King, Indeed, none should adventure on the thing, 
That's to be purchased only by a king. 

Jane. If kings love that which no one else respects, 
It may be so; else do I see small reason 
A king should take delight in such coarse stuff. 

King. Lives there a king that would not give his 

crown 
To purchase such a kingdom of content ? 

Jane. In my conceit, right well you ask that question : 
The world, I think, contains not such fond king. 

King. Why, mistress Shore, I am the man will do it. 

Jane. Tis proudly spoke, although I'd not believe it 9 
Were he king Edward that should offer it. 

King. But shall I have it ? 

Jane. Upon what acquaintance ? 

King. Why, since I saw you last. 

Jane. Where was that ? 

King* At the Lord Mayor's, in presence of the King. 

Jane. I have forgotten that I saw you there ; 
For there were many that I took small note of. 

King. Of me you did, and we had some discourse. 

Jane. You are deceived, sir ; I had then no time, 
For my attendance on his majesty. 

King. Til gage my hand unto your hand of that. 
Look well upon me. [Discovers Jiimself* 

Jane. Now, I beseech you, let this strange disguise 
Excuse my boldness to your majesty. [Kneels. 

Whatever we possess is all your highness* ; 
Only mine honour, which I cannot grant. 



68 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV. 

King. Only thy love, bright angel ! Edward craves; 
For which I thus adventured to see thee. 

Enter SHORE. 

Jane. But here comes one to whom I only gave it ; 
And he, I doubt, will say you shall not have it. 

King. Am I so soon cut off? Oh, spite ! 
How say you, mistress ; will you take my offer ? 

Jane. Indeed, I cannot, sir, afford it so. 

King. You'll not be offered fairlier, I believe. 

Jane. Indeed, you offer like a gentleman ; 
But yet the jewel will not so be left. 

Shore. Sir, if you bid not too much under-foot, 
I'll drive the bargain 'twixt you and my wife. 

King, (aside.} Alas, good Shore, myself dare answer 

No. 

Nothing can make thee such a jewel forego. 
(Aloud.) She saith you shall be too much loser by it. 

Shore. See in the Row, then, if you can speed better. 

King. See many worlds arow, affords not like. 

[Exit. As he is going ^ Shore perceives it is the King, 
whereat he seems greatly discontented. 

Jane. Why look'st thou, Mat ? know'st thou the 

gentleman ? 

Alas ! what ails thoe, that thou look'st so pale ? 
What cheer, sweetheart ? alas ! where hast thou been ? 

Shore. Nay, nothing, Jane. Know you the gentleman ? 

Jane. Not I, sweetheart. Alas ! why do you ask ? 
Is he thine enemy ? 

Shore. I cannot tell. 

What came he here to cheapen at our shop ? 

Jane. This jewel, love. 

Shore. Well, I pray God he camo for nothing else. 

Jane. Why, who is it ? I do suspect him, Shore, 
That you demand thus doubtfully of me. 



SCENE III. KING EDWARD IV. 69 

Shore. Ah, Jane, it is the King. 

Jane. 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. 

Shore. I know I have not. See, he comes again. 

Re-enter the King, muffled in his cloak. 

King. Still is my hind'rer there ! be patient, heart ! 
Some fitter season must assuage thy smart. 
What ! will ye take that, mistress, which I offered ye ? 
1 come again, sir, as one willing to buy. 

Jane. Indeed, I cannot, sir \ I pray ye 
Deal with my husband. Hear what he will say. 

Shore. Til sell it worth your money, if you please. 
I pray you, come near, sir. 

King. T 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 ; Til not deal with you. [Exit. ' 

Jane. You are deceiv'd, sweetheart. 'Tis not the 

King. 
Think you he would adventure thus alone ? 

Shore. I do assure thee, Jane, it is the King. 
Oh, God ! 'twixt the extremes of love and fear, 
In what a shiv'ring ague sits my soul ! 
Keep we our treasure secret, yet so foud 
As set so rich a beauty as this is 
In the wide view of ev'ry gazer's eye ! 
Oh, traitor beauty, oh, deceitful good ! 
That dost conspire against thyself and love : 
No sooner got, but wish'd again of others I 
In tliine own self injurious to thy self ! 
Oh, rich, poor portion ! thou good evil thing ! 
How many joyful woes still dost thou bring ! 



70 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV. 

Jane. I prithee, come, sweet love, and sit by me. 
No king that's under heaven I love like fchee. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. The Country. 

Enter Sir HUMPHREY BOWES and ASTON, two Justices, 
HARRY GRUDGED ROBERT GOODFELLOW, HADLAND, 
and HOBS. 

Bowes. Neighbours and friends ! the cause that you 

are called 

Concerns the King's 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 troops 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 enterprize. 

Hobs. 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 commonty. 

Bowes. Tanner, you rightly understand the matter. 

Ast. Note this, withal j where his dread majesty, 
Our lawful sovereign and most royal king, 
Might have exacted or imposed a tax, 
Or borrow'd 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, 



SCENE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 71 

With willing minds, towards this mighty charge, 
Enter LORD HOWARD. 

Which to receive, his noble counsellor 

And kinsman, the Lord Howard, here is come. 

How. Now, good Sir Humphrey Bowes and Master 

Aston, 
Have ye declared the King's most gracious pleasure ? 

Bowes. We have, my lord. 

How. His highness will not force 

As loan or tribute, but will take your gift 
In grateful part, and recompence your love. 

Bowes. To show my love, though money now be scarce, 
A hundred pound I'll give his majesty. 

How. 'Tis well, Sir Humphrey. 

Ast. I a hundred marks. 

How. Thanks, master Aston ; you both show your love. 
Now ask your neighbours what they will bestow. 

Bowes. Come, master Hadland, your Benevolence. 

Had. Oh, good Sir Humphrey, do not rack my purse. 
You know my state : I lately sold my land. 

Ast. Then you have money : let the King have part. 

Hobs. Ay, do, master Hadland, do. They say ye sold 
a foul deal of dirty land for fair gold and silver. Let 
the King have some now, while you have it 5 for, if ye be 
forborne a while, all will be spent $ for he that cannot 
keep land, that lies fast, will have much ado to hold 
money : 'tis slippery ware ; 'tis melting ware $ 'tis melt- 
ing ware. 

How. Gramercy 3 tanner ! 

Bowes. Say, what shall we have ? 

Had. My forty shillings. 

Ast. Robert Goodfellow, 
I know you will be liberal to the King. 

Good. O, Master Aston 1 be content, I pray ye : 



72 THE FIRST PART OF ACT TV. 

You know my charge; my household very great; ' 

And my housekeeping holds me very bare ; 

Three score uprising and downlying, sir. 

Spends no small store of victuals in a year ; 

Two brace of grayhounds, twenty couple of hounds ; 

And then my jades devour a deal of corn ; 

My Christmas cost ; and then my friends that corne, 

Amounts to charge ; I am Robin Goodfellow, 

That welcomes all and keeps a frolick house. 

I have no money. Pray ye, pardon me. 

How. Here's a plain tanner can teach you how to 

thrive. 

Keep fewer dogs, and then ye may feed men : 
Yet feed no idle men ; 'tis needless charge : 
You that on hounds and hunting-mates will spend, 
No doubt but something to your King you'll lend. 

Good. My brace of angels : by my troth, that's all. 

Hobs. Mass, and 'tis well the curs have left so much* 
I thought they would have eaten up thy house and land 
ere this, 

Bowes. Now, Harry Grudgen. 

Grud. What would you have of mo ? Money, I have 
none ; and 1*11 sell no stock. Here's old polling, subsidy, 
fifteen, soldiers and to the poor ! And you may have 
your will, you'll soon shut me out a door. 

Hobs. Hear ye, worships ! will ye let me answer my 
neighbour Grudgen ? By my halidome, Harry Grudgen ! 
th'art but a grumbling, grudging churl : thou hast two 
ploughs going, and ne'er a cradle rocking ; th'ast a peck 
of money, go to ; turn thee loose ; thou'lt go to law with 
the vicar for a tythe goose, and wilt not spare the King 
four or five pound. 

Grud. Gep, goodman Tanner, are ye so round ? your 
prolicateness has brought your son to the gallows almost. 
You can be frank of another man's cost. 



SCEttE IV. KING EDWARD IV. 73 

Hobs. Th'art no honest man, to twit me with my son : 
he may outlive thee yet, for aught that he has done : my 
son's i'th* gaol: is he the first has been there? And 
thou wert a man, as th'art a beast, I would have thee by 
the ears. [Weeps. 

How. Friend, thou want'st nurture to upbraid a father 
With a son's fault. We sit not here for this. 
What's thy benevolence towards his majesty ? 

Hobs. His benegligence ? hang him, he'll not give a 
penny willingly. 

Grud. I care not much to cast away forty pence. 

How. Out, grudging peasant ! base, ill-nurtur'd 

groom ! 

Is this the love thou bear'st unto the King ? 
Gentlemen, take notice of the slave ; 
And if he fault, let him be soundly plagued. 
Now, frolick tanner, what wilt thou afford ? 

Hobs. 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. 

How. The King shall know thy loving liberal heart. 

Hobs. Shall he, i'faith ? I thank ye heartily : but 
hear ye, gentlemen, you come from the court ? 

How. I do. 

Hobs. Lord, how does the King ? and how does Ned, 
the King's butler, and Tom, of his Chamber ? I am sure 
ye know them. 

How. They do very well. 

Hobs. For want of better guests, they were at my 
house one night. 

How. I know they were. 

Hobs. They promised me a good turn for kissing my 
daughter Nell ; and now I ha' cazion to try them. My 
son's in Dybell here, in Caperdochy, i* tha gaol, for peep- 
ing into another man's purse 3 and, outstep the King be 



74 THE PIRST PART OF ACT V. 

miserable, he's like to totter. Can that same Ned, the 
butler, do any thing with the King ? 

How. More than myself, or any other lord. 

Hobs. A halter, he can ! by my troth, ye rejounce my 
heart to hear it. 

How. Come to the Court : I warrant thy son's life : 
Ned will save that, and do thee greater good. 

Hobs. I'll wean Brock, my mare's foal, and come up 
to the King $ and it shall go hard but two fat hens for 
your pains I will bring. 

Bowes. My lord, this fellow gladly now will give 
Five pounds, so you will pardon his rude speech. 

How. For five and five I cannot brook the beast. 

Orud. What gives the tanner ? I am as able as ho. 

Ast. He gives ten pound. 

Gruel. Take twenty then of me. 
I pray ye, my lord, forgive my rough-heav'd speech. 
I wis, I meant no hurt unto my liege. 

Bowes. Let us entreat your lordship's patience. 

How. I do, at your request, remit the offence 5 
So let's depart : here's all we have to do. 

Ast. *Tis, for this time and place, my lord. 
Sirrah, bring your money. 

Hobs. What have you saved now, good man Grudgen, 
by your hinching and your pinching? not the worth of a 
black pudding. \Eoceunt. 

ACT V. 

SCENE I. Shore's House. 
Enter JANE SEOBE and Mrs. BLAGUE. 

Mrs. Bla. Now, mistress Shore, what urgent cause is 

that 
Which made ye send for mo in such great haste ? 



SCENE I. KING EDWARD IV. 75 

I promise ye, it made me half afraid 
You were not well. 

Jane. Trust me, nor sick nor well, 

But troubled still with the disease I told ye. 
Here is another letter from the King. 
Was never poor soul so importuned? 

Mrs. Bla. But will no answer serve ? 

Jane. No, mistress Blague \ no answer will suffice. 
He, he it is, that with a violent siege 
Labours to break into my plighted faith. 
Oh, 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 Jane. 
And when he cannot come (for him) he writes, 
OfTring, beside, incomparable gifts ; 
And all to win me to his princely will. 

Mrs. Bla. Believe me, Mistress Shore^ a dangerous 

case 5 

And every way replete with doubtful fear. 
If you should yield, your virtuous name were soiled, 
And your beloved husband made a scorn 5 
And if not yield, 'tis likely that his love, 
Which now admires ye, will convert to hate ; 
And who knows not, a prince's hate is death ? 
Yet I will not be she shall counsel ye : 
Good mistress Shore, do what ye will for me. 

Jane. Then counsel me what I were best to do. 

Mrs. Bla. You know, his greatness can dispense with ill, 
Making the sin seem lesser by his worth ; 
And you yourself, your children, and your friends,