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In sign whereof, I pray you see my house,
And sup with me this night.

Hobs. I thank ye, Goodman Mayor; but I care not for no meat. My stomach is like to a sick swine's, that will neither eat nor drink till she know what shall become of her pig. Ned and Tom, you promised me a good turn when I came to Court. Either do it now, or go hang yourselves.

King. No sooner comes the King, but I will do it. Set. I warrant thee, tanner; fear not thy son's life. Hobs. Nay, I fear not his life; I fear his death.

Enter the Master of St. Katharine's and the Widow Norton.

Master. All health and happiness to my sovereign! King. The Master of St. Katharine's hath marred all. Hobs. Out, alas! that ever I was born!

[Falls into a swoon: they labour to revive him,

meanwhile the King puts on his robes.

King. Look to the tanner, there, he takes no harm. I would not have him (for my crown) miscarry.

Widow. Let me come to him, by my King's good leave. Here's ginger, honest man; bite it.

Hobs. Bite ginger! bite ginger! bite a dog's date. I am but a dead man. Ah, my liege! that you should deal so with a poor well-meaning man: but it makes no matter; I can but die.

King. But when, tanner? can'st thou tell?

Hobs. Nay, even when you please; for I have so defended ye, by calling ye plain Ned, mad rogue, and rascal, that I know you'll have me hanged. Therefore, make no more ado, but send me down to Stafford, and there, a God's name, hang me with my son. And here's another as honest as yourself. You made me call him plain Tom: I warrant, his name is Thomas, and some

man of worship too. Therefore, let's to it, even when

and where ye will.

King. Tanner, attend! Not only do we pardon thee, But in all princely kindness welcome thee;

And thy son's trespass do we pardon too.
One go and see that forthwith it be drawn
Under our seal of England, as it ought.
And forty pounds we give thee, to defray
Thy charges in thy coming up to London.
Now, tanner, what say'st thou to us?

Hobs. Marry, you speak like an honest man, if you mean what you say.

King. We mean it, tanner, on our royal word.
Now, Master of St. Katharine's, what would you?
Master. My gracious lord, the great benevolence
(Though small to that your subjects could afford)
Of poor St. Katharine's do I bring your grace.
Five hundred pounds here have they sent by me,
For the easier portage, all in angel gold.
What this good widow, mistress Norton, will,
She comes herself, and brings her gift with her.
Widow. Pardon me, gracious lord! Presumption,
Nor overweening in mine own conceit,

Makes me thus bold to come before your grace;
But love and duty to your majesty,

And great desire to see my lord the King.
Our Master, here, spake of benevolence,
And said my twenty nobles was enough.
I thought not so; but at your highness' feet,

A widow's mite, a token of her zeal,

In humble duty, gives you twenty pound.

King. Now, by my crown, a gallant lusty girl! Of all the exhibition yet bestowed,

This woman's liberality likes me best.

Is thy name Norton?

Widow.

Ay, my gracious liege.

King. How long hast thou been a widow?
Widow.

Since I did bury Wilkin, my good man,

It is, my lord,

At Shrovetide next, ev'n just a dozen years.

King. In all which space, could'st thou not find a man, On whom thou might'st bestow thyself again?

Widow. Not any like my Wilkin, whose dear love I know is matchless in respect of whom

I think not any worthy of a kiss.

King. No, widow? that I'll try. How like you this?

[Kisses her. Widow. Beshrew my heart, it was a honey kiss, Able to make an aged woman young;

And for the same, most sweet and lovely prince,
See what the widow gives you from her store!
Forty old angels but for one kiss more.

King. Marry, widow, and thou shalt have it. John Hobs, thou art a widower: lack'st thou such a wife!

Hobs. 'Snails! twenty pound a kiss! Had she as many twenty pound bags as I have knobs of bark in my tan-fat, she might kiss them away in a quarter of a year. I'll no Saint Katharine's widows, if kisses be so dear.

Widow. Clubs and clouted shoes! there's none enamoured here.

King. Lord Mayor, we thank you, and entreat withal To recommend us to our citizens.

We must for France. We bid
We bid you all farewell.
Come, tanner, thou shalt go with us to Court;
To-morrow you shall dine with my lord Mayor,
And afterward set homeward when ye please.
God and our right that only fights for us!
Adieu! pray that our toil prove prosperous.

[Exeunt omnes.

THE SECOND

PART OF KING EDWARD THE

FOURTH.

Containing

his iourney into France, for obtaining of his right there:

The trecherous falshood of the Duke of Burgundie and the Constable of France vsed against him, and his

returne home

againe.

Likewise the prosecution of the historie of M.
Shoare and his faire wife.

Concluding with the lamentable death of them

both.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

ENGLISH.

King Edward The Fourth.

Lord Howard.

Sir Thomas Sellinger.

Lord Scales.

Marquis of Dorset.

Sir ROBERT BRACKENBURY.

Duke of CLARENCE.

The King's

Duke of GLOCESTER (afterwards K. R. III). J brothers.

[blocks in formation]

Jocky, Jane Shore's Man. Jeffrey.

A Herald. A Sheriff.

Vaux, Keeper of the Marshalsea.

The Queen.

Jane Shore.

Mrs. Blague.

Lady Ann of WARWICK.

King Louis.

Bourbon.

St. PIERRE.

MUGEROUN.

FRENCH.

CHARLES, Duke of Burgundy.

Count St. Paul, Constable of France.

Lord of CONTÉ.

Messengers, Apparitors, Officers, &c.

Scene—France and ENGLAND.

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