Trumpets. Enter King Edward, Howard, Sellinger,

and the train.

King. Now, my lord Mayor, have we not kept our word?

Because we could not stay to dine with you,

At our departure hence, we promised,

First food we tasted at our back return
Should be with you; still yielding hearty thanks
To you and all our London citizens,

For the great service which you did perform
Against that bold-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;

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; 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 Shore, 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; Yea, and of great wrong he hath offer'd you;

For you had been a Lady but for him.

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

To hinder virtue of her due by right.

Jane. My gracious Lord, my poor and humble thoughts Ne'er had an eye to such unworthiness;

And though some hold it as a maxim,

That women's minds by nature do aspire,

Yet how, both God and 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 Tom Sellinger,
Had ever citizen so fair a wife?

How. Of flesh and blood I never did behold

A woman every way so absolute.

Sel. Nor I, my liege. Were Sellinger 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 Eye,
What, whisper'st in my brain that she is fair?

I know it, I see it: fairer than my Queen?
Wilt thou maintain it? What, thou traitor Heart,
Wouldst thou shake hands in this conspiracy?
Down, rebel; back, base, treacherous conceit;

I will not credit thee. My Bess is fair,

And Shore's wife but a blowze, compar'd 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.

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

King. Nay, drink to us, Lord Mayor; we'll 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!

King. Fill full our cup; and, lady Mayoress, This full carouse we mean to drink to you;

[drinks.

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 presented 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.

How now?

Enter a Messenger, with letters.

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;

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 be to such beauty tied,

Sue how thou canst, thou wilt be still denied.
Her husband hath deserved well of thee:
Tut! love makes no respect, where'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 King, Howard, and Sellinger.

Mayor. Oh, God! here to be ill!

My house to cause my Sovereign's discontent!

Cousin Shore, I had rather spent

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, I 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 Goldsmith"s
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!