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

King. I'll 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; 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; 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

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 Windmill; I can grind which way soe'er the wind blow. If it be Harry, I can say, "Well fare, Lancaster." If it be Edward, I can sing, "York, York, for my money.

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 I 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, I'll 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.

King. Hast thou no suit touching thy trade, to transport hides or sell leather only in a certain circuit; or about bark, or such like, to have letters 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. I'll but go and see the King served, 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
Proportion'd with content sufficiency,

Is merrier than the mighty state of kings.

Enter Howard and Sellingeb.

How now? what news bring ye, sirs? Where's the Queen?

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 Sellinger 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;
Let them both sup and sleep when they see time.
Commend me kindly to Sir Humphrey Bowes:
Tell him at breakfast I will visit him.

This night Tom Sellinger and I must feast
With Hobs the tanner: there plain Ned and Tom;
No King nor Sellinger for a thousand pound.

Enter a Messenger, booted, with letters, and, kneeling, gives them 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; But what's the end? the King will have his pleasure. King. Good news, my boys! 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?

Sel. Oh, passing well, my liege;

[Exit Messenger.

You may be merry for these happy news.

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, Nell! 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 butler, Ned, a spruce youth; but beware ye be not in love nor overtaken by him, for courtiers be slippery lads.

Nell. No, forsooth, father.

Hobs. God's blessing on thee! That half-year's schooling 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; 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 (within) 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?

E