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 them come near house. Nell, lay the cloth, and clap supper o' th' board. [Exit Nell.

Enter King Edward and Sellinger.

Mass, here's Ned, indeed, and another misproud ruffian. Welcome, Ned! I like thy honesty; thou keepest 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 extruction.

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. Come, let's go to supper. What Nell! What Dudgeon! Where be these folks?

Enter Nell and Dudgeon, 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.

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 courtier, 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 Litchfield, 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; 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.

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;

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; 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 breeks. 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, Say, Dudgeon.

Here they sing the three-man's Song.

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.

fa!

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; 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 breaking earth.

King. No matter, Hobs; we will 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 Tom, of the King's chamber, my 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; 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, and the Captain of the Isle of Wight, with Falconbridge bound, the Headsman bearing the axe before him.

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

Lay open thy offences to the world,

That we may witness thou dost die a Christian.
Fal. Sir Harry Morton, why have you arraign'd,
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?
Capt. 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'd
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 confed'racy with France,

And cam'st with them to burn Southampton here?
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! Capt. Dispute! Uncivil wretch? what needs dispute? Did not the Vice-Admiral here and I,

Encount'ring with the navy of the French,

Attach thee in a ship of Normandy;