Shore, (aside.) Yet all this good doth but gild o'er

my ill.

Pal. Mistress, the restitution of my lands,

Taken perforce by his highness' officers.

Jane. The King's content your goods shall be restored, But the officers will hardly yield thereto.

Yet be content; I'll see ye have no wrong.

Shore, (aside.) Thou can'st not say to me so. I have

wrong.

Jocky. Mistress, gude faith, gin ye'll help me til my laund, whilk the false loon, Billy Grime of Glendale, hauds wrangfully fra me, I's quite your gudeness with a bonny nag, sall swum away so deftly as the wind.

Jane. Your suit, my friend, requires a longer time. Yet, since you dwell so far, to ease your charge, Your diet with my servants you may take;

And some relief I'll get thee of the King.

Shore, (aside.) It's cold relief thou gett'st me from the King.

Jocky. Now, God's blessing light on that gudely fair face. I's be your beadsman, mistress; ay, indeed, sall I. Pal. God bless the care you have of doing good! Ayre. Pity she should miscarry in her life,

That bears so sweet a mind in doing good.

Shore, (aside.) So say I, too. Ah, Jane, this kills my

heart,

That thou recks others, and not ru'st my smart.

Ruf. Mistress, I fear you have forgot my suit.
Jane. Oh, 'tis for a licence to transport corn
From this land, and lead, to foreign realms.
I had your bill; but I have torn your bill;
And 'twere no shame, I think, to tear your ears,
That care not how you wound the commonwealth.
The poor must starve for food, to fill your purse,
And the enemy bandy bullets of our lead!

No, master Rufford, I'll not speak for you,
Except it be to have you punished.

Jocky. By the mess, a deft lass! Christ's benison light

on her!

[She espies her husband, walking aloof, and takes him for another Suitor.

Jane. Is that another Suitor? I have no bill of his. Go, one of you, and know what he would have. Shore. Yes, Jane! the bill of my obliged faith: And I had thine; but thou hast cancell'd it.

[Here she knows him, and, lamenting, comes to him. Jane. Oh, God, it is my husband, kind Matthew Shore!

;

Shore. Ah, Jane, what's he dare say he is thy husband?
Thou wast a wife, but now thou art not so;
Thou wast a maid, a maid when thou wast wife;
Thou wast a wife, ev'n when thou wast a maid
So good, so modest, and so chaste thou wast!
But now thou art divorc'd, whiles yet he lives,
That was thy husband, while thou wast his wife.
Thy wifehood stain'd, by thy dishonour'd life;
;
For now thou art nor widow, maid, nor wife.

Jane. I must confess, I yielded up my fort,
Wherein lay all the riches of my joy;
But yet, sweet Shore, before I yielded it,
I did endure the long'st and greatest siege
That ever batter'd on poor chastity.
And but to him that did assault the same,
For ever it had been invincible.

But I will yield it back again to thee.
He cannot blame me, though it be so done,

To lose by me, what first by me was won.

Shore. No, Jane, there is no place allow'd for me,

Where once a king has ta'en possession.

Mean men brook not a rival in their love;

Much less so high unrivall'd majesty.
A concubine to one, so great as Edward,
Is far too great to be the wife of Shore.

Jane. I will refuse the pleasures of the Court.
Let me go with thee, Shore, though not as wife,
(Yet as thy slave) since I have lost that name.
I will redeem the wrong that I have done thee,
With my true service, if thou wilt accept it.

Shore. Thou go with me, Jane? Oh, God forbid
That I should be a traitor to my King!
Shall I become a felon to his pleasures,

And fly away, as guilty of the theft?
No, my dear Jane, I say it may not be.

Oh, what have subjects that is not their kings?

I'll not examine his prerogative.

Jane. Why, then, sweet Mat, let me entreat thee,

stay.

What is't with Edward that I cannot do?

I'll make thee wealthier than e'er Richard was,

That entertain'd the three great'st kings in Europe,
And feasted them in London on a day.

Ask what thou wilt; were it a million,

That may content thee; thou shalt have it, Shore.

Shore. Indeed, this were some comfort to a man That tasted want or worldly misery ;

But I have lost what wealth cannot return.

All worldly losses are but toys to mine;

Oh, all my wealth! The loss of thee was more

Than ever time or fortune can restore.

Therefore, sweet Jane, farewell! once thou wast mine

;

Too rich for me; and that King Edward knew.

Adieu, O world! he shall deceived be,

That puts his trust in women or in thee.

[Exit.

Jane. Oh, Shore, farewell, poor heart; in death I'll tell I ever lov'd thee, Shore! farewell, farewell! [Exit.

SCENE V.—The Tower.

Enter King Edward, Lord Mayor, Howard,
Sellinger, and the train.

King. Having awak'd forth of their sleepy dens
Our drowsy cannons, which, ere long, shall charm
The watchful French with death's eternal sleep;
And, all things else in readiness for France,
Awhile we will give truce unto our care.
There is a merry Tanner near at hand,
With whom we mean to be a little merry.
Therefore, Lord Mayor, and you, my worthy friends,
I must entreat you not to knowledge me.
No man stand bare—all as companions.
Give me a cloak, that I may be disguised.
Tom Sellinger, go thou and take another.

So, Tanner! now come when ye please; we are provided.
And in good time; see, he is come already.

Enter Hobs.

Tom Sellinger, go thou and meet him.

Sel. What, John Hobs! welcome, i'faith, to Court. Hobs. Gramercies, honest Tom: where is the hangman,

Ned?

Where is that mad rascal? shall I not see him?

Sel. See where he stands: that same is he.

Hobs. What, Ned? a plague found thee! how dost thou, for a villain? how dost thou, mad rogue? and how? and how?

King. In health, John Hobs; and very glad to see thee;

But say, what wind drove thee to London?

Hobs. Ah, Ned, I was brought hither with a whirlwind, man: my son, my son; did I not tell thee I had a knave to my son?

King. Yes, tanner; what of him?

Hobs. Faith, he's in Capperdochy, Ned, in Stafford Jail, for a robbery; and is like to be hanged, except thou get the King to be more miserable to him.

King. If that be all, tanner, I'll warrant him.

I will procure his pardon of the King.

Hobs. Wilt thou, Ned? for those good words, see what my daughter Nell hath sent thee: a haudkercher wrought with as good Coventry-silk blue thread, as ever thou sawest!

King. And I perhaps may wear it, for her sake, In better presence than thou art aware of.

Hobs. How, Ned? a better present! that thou can'st not have, for silk, cloth, and workmanship. Why, Nell made it, man. But, Ned, is not the King in this company? What's he in the long beard and the red petticoat? Before God, I misdoubt, Ned, that is the King. I know it by my Lord What-ye-call's players.

King. How by them, tanner?

Hobs. Ever when they play an enterlout or a commodity at Tamworth, the King always is in a long beard and a red gown, like him. Therefore, I 'spect him to be the King.

King. No, trust me, tanner, this is not the King; But thou shalt see the King before thou goest, And have a pardon for thy son, too, with thee. This man is the Lord Mayor, Lord Mayor of London. Here was the Recorder too; but he is gone.

Hobs. What nicknames these courtnols have! Mare and Corder, quotha! we have no such at Lichfield. There is the honest Bailiff and his brethren. Such words 'gree best with us.

King. My lord Mayor, I pray ye, for my sake,

To bid this honest tanner welcome.

Mayor. You are welcome, my honest friend.