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SCENE III. - The Tower.

Enter KING EDWARD, HOWARD, and SELLINGER.

King. And have our country-subjects been so frank And bountiful in their Benevolence

Toward our present expedition ?
Thanks, cousin Howard, for thy pains herein :
We will have letters sent to ev'ry shire
Of thankful gratitude, that they may know

How highly we respect their gentleness.

How.

One thing, my lord, I had well near forgot:

Your pleasant host, the Tanner of Tamworth.

King. What of him, cousin ?

How.

He was right liberal:

Twenty old angels did he send your grace;
And others, seeing him so bountiful,

Stretch'd further than they otherwise had done.

King. Trust me, I must requite that honest Tanner.

Oh, had he kept his word and come to Court,
Then, in good sadness, we had had good sport.

How. That is not long, my lord, which comes at last.

He's come to London, on an earnest cause.
His son lies prisoner in Stafford Jail,

And is condemnéd for a robbery.

Your highness' pardoning his son's offence,

May yield the Tanner no mean recompense.

King. But who hath seen him since he came to town? Sel. My lord, in Holborn 'twas my hap to see him,

Gazing about. I sent away my men;

And, clapping on one of their livery cloaks,

Came to him; and the Tanner knew me strait.

"How dost thou, Tom?" and how doth Ned?" quoth he; "That honest, merry hangman, how doth he?" I, knowing that your majesty intended This day in person to come to the Tower, There bade him meet me, whereas Ned and I Would bring him to the presence of the king, And there procure a pardon for his son.

King. Have then a care we be not seen of him,

Until we be provided for the purpose;
Because, once more we'll have a little sport.

Tom Sellinger, let that care be yours.
Sel. I warrant ye, my lord.

Let me alone.

Enter the Lord Mayor.

King. Welcome, lord Mayor! what, have you signified

Our thankfulness unto our citizens,

For their late-gatheréd Benevolence ?

Mayor. Before the citizens in our Guildhall,

Master Recorder made a good oration,
Of thankful gratitude unto them all,

Which they receivéd with so kind respect
And love unto your royal majesty,
As it appear'd to us they sorrowéd

Their bounty to your highness was no more.

King. Lord Mayor, thanks unto yourself and them !
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! come when ye please; we are provided.
Sel.
And in good time; see, he is come already.
Enter HOBS.

King. 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?

VOL. II

P

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.

Hobs.

Yes, Tanner; what of him ?

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 handkercher 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 Whatye-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.

Mare and There is the

Hobs. What nicknames these courtnols have! Corder, quotha! we have no such at Litchfield. honest Bailiff and his brethren. Such words 'gree best with

us.

King. Lord Mayor, I pray ye, for my sake to bid

This honest tanner welcome.

Mayor.

You are welcome,

My honest friend. 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.
Sel. I warrant thee; fear not thy son's life, Tanner,
Hobs. Nay, I fear not his life; I fear his death.

Enter SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY.

Bra. All health and happiness to my sovereign!
King. Sir Robert Brakenbury 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.

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

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.
And forty pounds we give thee, to defray
Thy charges in thy coming up to London.
Now, tanner Hobs, what sayest 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.

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

We must for France. We bid you all farewell.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV

SCENE I.-France. The English Camp.

Enter KING EDWARD, HOWARD, and SELLINGER.

King. Is this the aid our cousin Burgundy
And the great Constable of France assur'd us?
Have we march'd thus far through the heart of France,
And with the terror of our English drums

Rous'd the poor trembling French, which leave their towns,
That now the wolves affrighted from the fields
Do get their prey, and kennel in the streets ?
Our thund'ring cannons, now this fortnight space,
Like common bellmen in some market town,
Have cried the Constable and Burgundy;
But yet I see they come not to our aid.
We'll bring them in; or, by the blessed light!
We'll search the ground-sills of their city's walls.
Since you have brought me hither, I will make
The proudest tower that stands in France to quake.
I marvel Scales returns not; for by him
I do expect to hear their resolutions.

Enter the LORD SCALES.

How. My sovereign, he is happily returned.

King. Welcome, my lord; welcome good cousin Scales.

What news from Burgundy? what is his answer?
Comes he to our succour, as he promised ?

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