A MERRY AND Pleasant Comedy: Never before Printed, called A Shoemaker a Gentleman.  
As it hath been sundry Times Acted at the Red Bull and other Theatres, with a general and good Applause.  
Written by W. R. Gentleman.  
LONDON: Printed by I. Okes, and are to be sold by john Cowper, at his Shop at the East-end of St. Paul's Church at the Sign of the Holy Lamb. 1638.   

The Printer to the honest and High-spirited Gentlemen of the never decaying Art, called the Gentle Craft.  
NOne but to you (as whom of right it doth concern) I thought good to present this Play: which though written many years since, ought not therefore to be slighted: I confess we have better for Language in these our exquisite and refined Times, yet for the matter and Subject, none of a more delightful and pleasant Style; for it is well known to you (Gentlemen Cordwiners) that every year you do celebrate the Feast of Crispin, & Crispianus, not in a mean and ordinary way, but with a great deal of Ceremony, keeping it as an Holiday, feasting and entertaining your friends and neighbours. And likewise it hath been so well approved by you in the acting of it upon the Stage, and that with your loud alarms, (I mean your clapping of hands) that I could not choose but commend it to you now in Print: for it is a Play that is often Acted; and when others fade and are out of date, yet this doth endure tò the Last: I know it may come short of that accurateness both in plot and style that this witty age doth with greater curiosity acquire, I may thus excuse; that as Plays were then, some twenty years agone, it was in the fashion. Nor could it have found a fitter or more seasonable publication than at this time; when the glory of our Nation is so much admired, and the valour of our English so much esteemed, that it is sought for by foreign Natives, as you may read in this Subject we have in hand; but I leave it to your perusal and imitation; and return to you my brave spirited Gentlemen Shoemakers, upon whom, & for whose sakes I have published it; wishing you all that have their courages and forwardness, their noble Fates and Fortunes: So hoping you will go through stitch, I leave thee to Fare well.   

The Actors Names.  

Alured, King of Britain.  
Elred and Offa this Kings two sons, borrowing the Names of Crispin and Crispianus.  
Sir Hugh, a Prince of Wales, and a Suitor to Winifred.  
Amphiabel, a Nobleman.  
Maximinus and Dioclesian, the Emperors of Rome.  


Nobleman and Warriors.  
Bassianus,  
Lutius,  
Rutullus,    
Roderick, King of Vandals.  
Huldricke, King of Goths, Enemies to the Emperor.  
A Nuntius from the Emperor Dioclesian.  
A Roman Captain.  
soldiers and other Attendants.  
Three Countrymen.  
A Shoemaker.  
Barnaby and Raph his Journeymen.  
A Queen, Wife to King Alured, and Mother to Crispin and Crispianus.  
Winifred, a Virgin of Wales.  
Leodice, Daughter to the Emperor Maximinus.  
A Nurse, who attends her.  
Sisley, the shoemaker's Wife.    
A Shoemaker, A Gentleman.  

Act. 1.  Enter Alured wounded, Elred, Offa, and the Queen. Alarum. King. 

AWay, stand off, prop not a falling Castle with  
Your weak strength, 'tis sinful Charity, and  
Desperate folly to meet a mischief, whose  
Entertainment is assured destruction: leave me  
I pray safeguard your own lives.   Queen. 

Oh Royal Sir, 'tis you that do despair,  
Wounds are not always mortal.   Ellred. 
Dear sir let them be dressed:  King. 

You tire me out of breath with vain delays, as well  
May you give life unto a stone, a senseless statue;  
My life's but lent to bid you shun your deaths, and in that too  
heaven's mercy is miraculous, yet you will not hear me:  
Again I charge you as a King; yet none regards  
Declining Majesty; then as a husband, and a Father here;  
Dost thou love me?   Quee. 
Approve it in my death, if thou mistrust it Alured.  King. 

Have you duty, you Phoenix of my age, for though  
Two persons be distinguishable, yet ought there be but one  
Combined heart in your fraternal union, your knees promise.   Both. 
Our duties are much lower.  King. 

Then here I charge ye for to leave the Field,  
Fly from death, he's now in pursuit of ye:  
Fly from the Tyrant, for this unhappy day  
Those bloody Persecutors Maximinus, and Dioclesian,  
Display their by necked Eagle over Britain,  
While she lies under as a bleeding prey,  
One Talon here is fastened.   Enter Amphiabell, and Sir Hugh. Hugh. 

Fly Noble Princes, we have stood out the utmost  
Of the day, till hope had lost his anchorage,  
Therefore fly, and seek some other day for victory.   Amphi. 
How fares the King?  Al. 

e'en one the verge of Bliss, O dear Amphiabell.  
Noble Sir Hugh, what more could I have wished, than breath  
To thank your kind assistance in this hapless day:  
Oh take an equal jointure with my Sons, from this cold Oracle  
All I bequeath is Counsel for your safety, fly the slaughter,  
For dying men are half Prophetical, if you abide  
A longer stay you fall: oh do not make me guilty of your deaths  
That drew you hither to expire your breaths, this path I  
Progress but avoid my way, you need not haste  
To an assured danger: Farewell my love, my blessing here  
Shall fall, perform my will, else Fate avert it all:  
Thou canst not boast grim death: I did not yield,  
Nor fell by Agues, but like a King i'th' field.   Quee. 
ay me distressed Queen.  Amphi. 

Your grief's incurable, remember the will of your dead Lord,  
And be a good Executrix, fly from pursuing danger:  
And you Royal youths must seek some shelter to secure  
Your lives; away, 'tis all our Fates.   Elr. 
I could better die on him that slew my Father.  Offa. 
Take my company in that, dear Brother.  Qu. 

So make a Mother prove unnatural, I will defend the foe  
Through this breast you pass unto him, have ye forgot your Father?   El. 
No, we'll revenge his death:  Quee. 
And kill your Mother first.  Hugh. 

What think ye Princes, that we left behind  
The smallest atom of a seeming hope, when we  
Forsook the field, you'll not think so?   Elr. 
What's your Counsel?  Am. 

Take on some course disguise, what poverty is't  
But will be rich, being your lives protection.   Offa. 

Instruct and aid us some superior power,  
Which dost behold our forced necessity   Eld. 

Brother, it shall be thus; some poor Soldier slain in the  
Battle will we change habits with: so it may be thought  
That we are slain, and stay the bloody Inquisition.   Offa. 

'tis well advised, we'll not assay to mend it:  
This effected Mother, we'll come and take our leaves.   Eld. 
What for yourself Madam?  Qu. 

Here will I stay, until my eyes like briny Pioneers  
With their continual Cadence, have digged up  
A woeful Sepulchre, for these sweet Corpse;  
And if these sterile Founts prove weak, and dry,  
Here will I kneel till death has cloyed his Gorge,  
And left the putrefaction, the mortal damp  
Shall kiss me to his company for ever.   Am. 

Oh Madam, these are but fruitless apprehensions,  
And savoureth not of that discreet virtue hath been ever in you:  
Your story hath been filled with Temperance, Care, and Patience,  
And all these forbid this barren Sacrifice, lose not yourself  
In the great loss of your dear Husband,   Hugh. 

Madam, if you dare trust your person to my protection,  
I will Conduct you safe into North Wales,  
Where Powes my Lord, and Father, yet maintains  
A petty Royalty: Thither if please you wend,  
we'll either keep or lose ourselves with you.   Am. 

Alas Sir Hugh, little can you promise of safety there,  
For from fair Winifred, the only Daughter, and Heir  
To Dun-wallis, I have received too true intelligence;  
The Barbarous Romans have supplanted peace,  
Putting to sword, and torture all, that bear the  
Name of Christians: Nay, even the right Amphiabell  
Did hold is now so ruinate, I have not left  
One Subject to command.   Hugh. 
Heard you this from virtuous Winifred?  Am. 

Much more of woe, the virtuous Maid herself  
Hath left off State, forsaken Royalty,  
And keeps a Court so solitary, as it seems Within a cry, follow, follow.  
More like a Cloister, than a Royal Palace.  
Hark, our enemies pursue us, if we stay  
we must resolve for death.   Hugh. 

Madam, either enjoin us for your safe Conduct along  
With us, or here defend your life to the last breath?   Qu. 

Neither I beseech you gentlemen, will ye accept a poor widow's  
Thanks, for all your loves, 'tis a thin gratitude;  
But 'tis all I have; I beseech ye haste away,  
If you do other, I'll not thank you for't.  
For here I'll stay, and warm this cold remainder,  
Until some fiend, sent from the infernal pit,  
Doth separate by force, what Heaven hath knit.   Hugh. 

Then to the best protection of the Heavens,  
we leave you to be comforted. Exit.   Qu. 
That shelter cover you.  Enter Eldred, and Offa. Eld. 

Come dear Brother, these poor habiliments may find  
Surer footing, than the rich Robes which Royalty is clad in:  
If they do, we'll bless the happy Transformation.  
Mother, your blessing; nothing else we want  
To further the issue of our unknown fate,   Qu. 

Take it, O take it in an hour of sorrow, but leave that all with me,  
So you have all I can bestow upon you: follow, within follow.  
But mentally, I'll still be blessing of you, and never cease  
Hark, 'tis time you're gone, away; I charge ye on your duties.   Offa. 
But where's your own safety?  Qu. 

Leave me, and haste you hence I say,  
I'll take my blessing oft if you delay,  
And plant my curse instead; Eldred, and Offa, you're my Sons,  
I charge you to obey me.   Eld. 

Eldred and Offa are already gone, for with our habits we  
Have changed our names, when such you hear of,  
Oh let your prayers still bless them, with happy memory.   Qu. 

I'll never part with that remembrance:  
Obey me and be gone.   Offa. 

With constant hope, that though veiled honour bear an  
Ecliptic stain, our sun will pass it, and shine bright again   Exit. Qu. 

So, now come you Tyrants, here you shall find me  
Praying for curses on your cruelty.   A Flourish. Enter Maximinus, Dioclesian, Leodice, Albon, Bassianus, and Rutullus. Max. 

Now equal Caesar, brave Dioclesian, the days at leisure  
To return thee thanks for aiding Maximinus in these wars,  
In happy time thy succour came from France,  
To make us Conquerors of Britain, which else might  
Yet have been a doubtful day: when thou want'st aid,  
Bid Maximinus come with this joint force,  
we'll make the world our own.   Dio. 

Rome shall not lose its name, the world's Commander,  
Till this knot unties; perpetual be it, till Rome erects  
Our golden Statues, placed by Saturn, and great jupiter,  
And there be deified, to bless all those which may succeed  
But in these designs, let us remember high deserving  
Albon, whose valour was not seconded this day  
By any single Arm.   Max. 

It was the best, the shout and full applause  
Was only Albons, for which unto thy Knighthood late  
Given in Rome, we add the stewardship of Great Britain  
Under Maximinus, and Dioclesian: go to thy Barony  
Of Verolam, two legions there shall still attend one thee,  
To quell and persecute these Christians:  
Who will not stoop unto our Roman God,  
Shall feel the stroke of our revengeful Rod.   Al. 

Albon shall still as substitute to Rome  
Observe, and keep her high imperial Doom.   Max. 

Bassianus, be you Competitor with Lord Albon,  
And with severity, through the conquered Cities pursue  
The Christians to their Martyrdoms:— whose's that?   Qu. 

I'll answer for myself; Tyrant a Christian, a husbandless  
And Childless Christian, yet one so daring unto misery,  
She throws a Challenge, to the worst thou canst,  
Defiance to thee thus; Oh were it poison to swell this  
tyrant's bosom till it burst, and fall thus low.   Max. 

Ha ha ha, misery makes her desperate, thou add'st a  
Triumph woman to our state, to brandish forth such  
Fruitless Menaces; to Prison with her, we'll think of  
Further torments: I'll prostitute thy body to some Slave,  
And if the issue prosper, make him a Hangman.   Qu. 
And such another may thy Daughter have.  Leo. 

Choose for yourself Lady, I have an eye to pleasure  
myself?   Max. 

we'll hold no dispute with women, away with her:  
Rochester Castle shall be your palace? you're like to keep  
A hard House on't.   Qu. 
Like the Court thou keep'st.  Max. 
No more words, away with her.  Qu. 

My words I'll better spend in Prayers to Heaven,  
But if I chance to Curse, I'll think on thee:  
My Royal Plants, Heaven guard from their full gripe,  
Fall Fate on me, my time and days are ripe. Exit.   Dio. 

Oh Brother Caesar, in this British calm we'll pass again  
Over to stormy France, the Gothes, and Vandalls have outpassed  
The bounds, and o'er the Rhine passed into Burgundy, our work  
Must be to reverberate, and drive them to Confined  
Germany, while you persever, with an awful hand,  
To keep our conquered foes beneath your feet; give not those  
Frighted Welshman time to breathe:  
But if again you doubt of what you can, you know your  
Friend called Dioclessan?   Max. 

Your words are mine if you have need in France, we'll Feast,  
And bring you to the British shore, then part unto our work.  
Our Daughter Leodice, we'll leave to keep her court at Canterbury,  
Rutullus, take it to your charge, to see erected one the  
Conspicuous promonts of our Land, Beacons, which may stand  
In ken of other, by whose sudden fires on the least invasion, we may be called to Arms.   Rut. 
It shall be done.  Dio. 

A careful Policy, be my Tutor to teach me Military Discipline,  
Fly brazen Oratrix, all lingued fame,  
And tell at Rome of Maximinus' name:  
Say Dioclesian too will bring a Crown,  
To bind thy seven fold Head with high Renown: Flourish.  
Say like two jove's, when our Dread thunder's burled,  
Our sable Eagle strikes through all the world. Exeunt omn.   Enter discovered in a Shop a Shoemaker, his Wife spinning, Barnaby, two Journeymen. Shoo. 

Good boys, fine knaves, yerk it home, good ware will away,  
When bad lies dead on our hands, there's no thrift in that;  
Spin in a fair thread Sisly, let not my journeymen want,  
The war's has lamed many of my old Customers, they cannot  
Go a high loan, bad world for us, but a wet winter, will wear  
Out shoe-leather, and make amends,  
we'll cut it out if it do Boys?   Bar. 

Your journeymen shall mount then Master, for my foot's in the Stirrup  
Already, ply your work Mistress, we always bring  
Your labours to good ends I'll warrant ye.   Sis. 

Why Barnaby, thou seest I am at defiance with my work  
Till it be done, for I am always spitting on my toe.   Shoo. 

Good wench Sisly, there shall no Corns grow on thy toes  
For that, thy shoes shall be large enough,  
Finely shalt thou go, and tread upon neat's Leather.   Bar. 
I'll eat the feet if she do Master;  Wife. 
Eat my feet goodman knave?  shoe 

Misconstruction Sis, thou mistakes Barnaby, he'll eat  
neat's feet, none of thine; but Beef shall be thy food boy,  
As good as the Major of Feversham cuts on's Trencher,  
And Drink as strong as the Statute affords.   Bar. 

Statutes are strong, Master, therefore we should have strong drink:  
I had rather wear Lace by the Statute, than drink if it be small.   Shoo. 

Good drink in thy throat if thou speak'st in earnest:  
But Ralph, what price bears Ballets? no Music in Feversham?   Ralph. 

Faith sir your statute Beer has taken my pipe  
A hole too low, it cannot reach Ela.   Shoo. 

I'll have that fault mended boy, but we must drink strong drink, as we show our Religion, privately.  
'Tis dangerous to be good Christians now a day's.   Bar. 

I am afraid there will be too many Christians sir,  
Because many use to go a Pilgrimage Barefoot;  
And that's an ill wind for our profit.   Shoo. 

No more talk of ill winds Barnaby, we'll sing away sorrow  
Strike up Ralph, I'll wash thy whistle anon boy.   Ralph. 
Well sir, I'll scour it first if I can then, Sings.  Enter Crispianus, and Crispinus. El. 

Brother, here's a life to mock at state, and stain her surly  
Greatness: who would venture to walk upon the Icy path  
Of Royalty, that here might find a footing so secure:  
here's harmony indeed, a fearless sport,  
A joy our young years seld, has at Court.   Offa. 
I Brother, would we were of this Fellowship.  El. 

Dost think we could forget our former ease  
And fall to labour?   Offa. 

Why not? that was not without troubles of the mind,  
And methinks to exchange for the Body's labour, were a far  
Freer good; to sing with homely cheer,  
Were sweeter far than to feed fat with fear.   El. 

we'll put it then in practice, heaven grant we may  
Find entertainment: good speed unto your labours Gentlemen.   Sho. 

Gentlemen, we are good fellows no Gent. yet if gentleness  
Make Gentility we are Gentlemen: My pretty youths,  
Would you ought with us you speak so friendly?   El. 
No more than we shall deserve sir.  Wife. 
And you are worthy of that i'faith.  El. 

Sir, we are youths whom the rough hand of War hath ruined,  
And made desolate, our friends and means are parted from us,  
Our friend's in Heaven, our means within the gripe of enemies  
Both in accessible thus much we are, Fatherless, friendless;  
Succourless and forlorn, what we may be, lies yet within  
The grant of some kind Master, that may instruct us in  
Some honest Trade, to get our living by.   Shoo. 

Pretty spoken youths by Saint Anthony,  
How dost thou like them Sisly?   Wife. 

Yes truly husband, if they will do as well as they say,  
I like 'em very well; good faces as faces goes nowadays,  
Prithee sweet heart be kind to 'em, and entertain 'em  
If they like our Trade.   Bar. 

Oh good Master entertain 'em, we want junior prentices  
For under work.   Ralph. 

Do sir, keep good faces in your shop?  
'twill draw the Custom of pretty wenches the better.   Shoo. 
housekeeping's chargeable, men must have good meat.  Wife. 
They will work and earn their meat I'll warrant ye.  Shoo. 
What are ye, Brethren?  Both. 
In love and nature sir, the nearest Brethren.  Wife. 
'tis pity they should be parted then, if they love so well.  Shoo. 
Your Names?  Chris. 
Chrispianus mine.  Crispi. 
Mine Crispinus.  Shoo. 

Good names, good names, well boys on this condition  
I will entertain you, I need not doubt your truths, and  
Honesty, you have such fair and promising out sides:  
But I must have you bound for seven years, and than  
You are your own men, and a good trade to get your livings by.   Both. 

With all our hearts,  
And happy are we in your kind acceptance.   Sho. 
You shall be mine, then give 'em entertainment Barnaby.  Bar. 

New Aprons and Caps here, for a Couple of Gent.  
So on with your Breast plate, this Cap makes thee a graduate,  
You are come amongst Bacularious, bear-up your heads boys,  
we'll teach ye to bristle, wax better and better, last to  
The 12, then set foot in the stirrup and have at all.   Shoo. 
Show them their tools, and give them entrance Barnaby  Enter Rutullus and Soldiers, bearing the Queen to Prison. Qu. 

Sir, I have not been used to this hard travel,  
If you dare mitigate your Master's Cruelty,  
And let me rest a little, I'll thank you for it.   Rut. 
'tis not in our Commission, but I'll dispense a little.  Shoo. 
Who is this I pray sir?  Rut. 

The Queen going to Prison, to Rochester Castle,  
Do you not know her?   Shoo. 
Alack, alack.  Qu. 
My eyes are not deceived, they are my Children.  Cris. 
'tis our Mother Offa, take heed our tears do not discover.  Cri. 
Pray heaven they do not, I fear my eyes will be kind traitors.  Qu. 
Dare ye be so kind, to afford a distressed woman a stool?  Wife. 
I dare do that Madam, Crispinus, reach a stool.  Qu. 
On thy knee Child, why dost thou kneel to me?  Cri. 

'tis my duty Madam, misery hath not changed your name,  
Though bated of your power, you are my Queen still.   Qu. 

Heaven bless thee for't, I have stolen thee a blessing.  
Wouldst thou add something too?   Cri. 
I would be as Dutiful as my Brother, Madam.  Qu. 

Is he thy Brother, blessing on you both:  
This was a happiness beyond my hope, that I should once more Bless  
My Children really, keep in thou woman's frailty,  
Grief Chain my Tongue, lest thou betray the utmost  
Of my hopes, my tears may find excuse.   Rut. 
Why weeps those boys?  Cris. 

Alas Sir, 'tis oft times the barren fruits of subjects'  
Loves, when they behold their Prince; but much more  
Will the Flux of sorrow sir abound, when they behold  
Them thrown to misery.   Rut. 
You're very kind  Wife. 

Kind boys they are, indeed they shall fare ne'er the worse,  
I could e'en weep myself, to see my boys so kind hearted.   Rut. 

Madam, you do but trouble 'em, and win some drops  
From them, that they would spare if you were absent.   Qu. 

'tis your trouble sir, they could be content with this kind  
Expense, a longer sojourn, but you instruct me well:  
Farewell, I can but thank ye, that's all I have  
To give for your kind youths— what will my tongue do,  
Pray use them well, so much the more cause  
They were kind to me.   Rut. 
Madam will you go?  Qu. 

We talk of no stay, let not your haste make me  
Unthankful pray, and bar my thanks for kindness,  
But I have done: On to my house of woe, yet since we must,  
Delay the more annoys this comfort, yet heaven to my sorrows gives,  
In midst of Tyranny my children lives. Exit.   Wife. 

The world treads not upright, methinks  
It had need of a good workman to mend it.   Sho. 

Peace Sisly, no problems, no figures, no woman's Rhetoric,  
The tongue may undo the whole body, Tausume, there  
Is Greek for ye wife, let us keep good consciences with in doors  
howe'er the wind blows abroad, 'tis honester deceit  
To seem bad and be good, than to seem pure and be a knave,  
Go too, good soles will carry out bad upper leathers,  
'tis a bad time I can tell ye, but why were my boys  
So passionate, to weep at the queen's distress.   Cris. 

Alas sir, who could choose, passion methought  
Did make me apprehend strange fantasies, I made  
The case mine own, supposed my Mother had been  
Haled to Prison; some would have pitied her, though  
But a mean woman, much more at such a sovereign's fall.   Cri. 

I Brother, and suppose her Sons, though Royal,  
Had seen our mother as we saw her, in Princely compassion  
Perhaps they would have done the like.   Cris. 

No doubt, nay Master without offence, it was your fault too,  
For in your eye I spied a pearl of pity.   Shoo. 

Good faith thou sayst true, I could do no less, neither  
Do I discommend ye for it, 'tis a good bosom where mercy dwells.   Wise. 

ay, their Compassion of women shall lose 'em nothing,  
If they be but dutiful to their Master, and just to their Dame.   Shoo. 
Enough of Ceremony: What's o'clock Barnaby?  Bar. 
The chimes of my belly has gone, it should be passed twelve.  Shoo. 

Provide dinner Sir, Master, journeymen, and Prentices,  
One Table serves for all; we feed as all fellows;  
Shut up shop, this is afternoon's holiday in honour of  
My two new Prentices, and this caveat for all, keep your  
Bosoms locked, we may be good Christians, but not show it  
Abroad, less in our Charity in times of blood  
When tyrants Reign, 'tis dangerous to be good. Exeunt.   Enter Winifred in a black veil, Amphiabell, Saint Hugh, Howell and Lords. Soft Music. Win. 

Ce se, cease, it is too loud, this tell-tale noise betrays  
Our privacy, which we desire more than thronging Visitants,  
What is it you would have of me, I'll give my state to any of ye all,  
Take it away, and give me here only myself to Govern;  
More is too much to impose on my poor weakness.   Hugh 

That is too much Sweet Lady, do not task your happy virtues  
To so hard a proof, there is no strict injunction sealed,  
To bar the passage to a Nuptial Bed, that is a statute by  
Self will decreed, to make Hymen a bond slave.   Win. 

O good Sir Hugh, how long have you laid a fruitless siege  
Unto a Port that is impregnable; I thank ye, and must needs  
Acknowledge my love, if I had such a Lunacy, to be a debt  
To you, you have deserved it were it worth receipt.   Lord. 

Then give desert his due? leave of these nice points of cold  
Virginity, and warm affection in the sweet embraces  
Of a Noble Husband, fitter for your state than this Cloister habit.   Hugh. 

So shall you win a second power to yours, this Noble Prince  
Will with a husband be a strong defence  
Against your enemies.   Lor. 

Add to necessity, a proved Loyalty, a love that will not  
Claim equality, but bound unto.   Win. 

No more, no more I pray, while sure my foes would not  
This Cruel be, to encounter me at such unequal odds,  
So many Soldiers 'gainst a silly woman, you cannot call  
This Conquest if ye win: I claim the Law of Arms,  
A friendly parley ere the Battle join, the time  
Let it be now; I crave the friendly Respite of a month,  
Mean time, let me hear no more Love Alarms, then will  
I either yield ye up the Fort, or stand in the defiance.   Lord. 
So so sir Hugh, there is now some hope.  Hugh. 

A promising fair hope, more than my three years' service  
Had before, a month sweet Beauty, O let it be more to show  
My love wears humble Constancy, let it be two, or three.   Win. 

I take you at your word, it shall be three sir Hugh, in which time,  
I lock, by virtue of this hand and tongue, your hand from any  
Suit that sounds but love, you shall not name the word  
Within my Presence, 'tis breach of peace if ye do.   Hugh. 
You have locked the Closet and keep the Key of it.  Lord. 

Come then sir Hugh, since you have trust with love,  
let's deal with Arms another while, that when our foes  
Come, they may perceive that we expect 'em.   Hugh 

My Life's my Countries, and I'll offered for them:  
Three months I go a banished man from hence,  
yet this I'll borrow from beauteous excellence,  
When my white Plume shall in the field be spread,  
My word of courage shall be Winifred. Exeunt Hugh & Lords.   Win. 

Alas good Prince, I can but pity thee,  
And grieve because my pity's pitiless;  
Like a miser's Alms, God help; without Charity:  
For I shall never quite thy labouring love.  
No Prince Amphiabell, you have wedded me to a Celestial  
Bridegroom, you have taught my ignorance a knowing intellect:  
'tis well begun, and who would not persevere  
To Love that love that lives, and lasts for ever?   Am. 

I come to strengthen you fair Winifred, so to continue  
I hope I need not, yet not so strictly to Virginity  
As to the Christian Faith; for Wedlock is an ordinance from Heaven,  
Though junior to the single purity  
In this chaste Wedlock, doth the Conquest win,  
She knows the tree forbid, it will not sin.   Win. 

But I have made a vow, think then what danger a relapse  
Would be, and you will grant my best Virginity;  
And I will further show what Heaven hath done,  
To aid my female Resolution, you then will bid  
Me cross the book of love, and Read of nothing  
But that text above.   Am. 
You promised me no less.  Win. 

I'll make it good:  
See you this spring, here a pretty stream begins his head,  
So late it was a parching drought had ceased our verdant grass,  
Here did I sit in Contemplation, lifting to Heaven my Orisons  
For present succour, but swifter than my thought,  
All Potent Heaven a Miracle had wrought:  
That Barren seeming Ground brought forth a Spring  
Of such sweet waters, as it had not been cursed i'th' old world's  
Deluge, I caused it then thus to be digged and framed  
By hand of men, and coming still to see it as before,  
A Heavenly shape appeared, and blessed it more;  
Gave it that power as heaven had so assigned,  
To cure diseases, help the lame and blind:  
For which poor people their poor thanks to tell, Music.  
Calls as I would not, Winifred's Well.   Am. 
'tis wonderful!  Win. 

Hark, these sounds did I hear when that Celestial  
Body did appear, let us with Reverence attend aloof,  
Your eye or ear shall have a further proof.   Enter, an Angel ascends out of the Well, and after descends again. Ang. 

With this the sign that holy Christians wear,  
When in the Field their Standers they up Rear  
Against the foes of Heaven; with this type,  
That when they receive the Seal Regenerate,  
Gives them their Christian name, with this I bless again  
This hallowed spring, who seeks Redress with a believing heart,  
Here he shall find ease, take power to cure the  
Leprous disease, give legs unto the Cripple, blind their Sight,  
So that their blessings be received aright:  
To misbelievers turn into a curse,  
Who seeks a Cure in scorn, disease him worse;  
This Heaven hath done for truth, it is but young,  
And needs a Miracle to make her strong,  
The time will come when men shall here not see,  
Then let the world express fidelity:  
Good Prayers have power to fetch an Angel down,  
And give a mortal an Immortal Crown.   Music here descends. Am. 

I need no more confirm ye beauteous Maid,  
myself I'll task unto some dangerous end,  
I'll take disguise, and straight to Verolome  
And to the face of persecuting Albon  
Our friend and fellow Knight, I'll tell his curse  
If he persist in Barbarous Cruelty,  
I'll throw my life in hazard, if I fall,  
Tell Christians keep my true memorial.   Win. 

Which first leave here with me, you shall do well,  
Here will I keep my Court, here will I dwell,  
Here let the Roman Tyrant shed my blood,  
Here they shall find me doing all the good  
A poor wretch can, what heaven has blessed before,  
I as a second means will help the poor.   Am. 

To that I leave thee most virtuous maid,  
Oh might it of Amphiabell be said;  
His good intendment had so happy end,  
To make a Christian of a bloody fiend,  
I come to try thee Albon.   Win. 
Oh may it prove.  Am. 
Thus we depart Lady.  Win, 
Where meet, it is decreed above. Exit.   

ACTVS SECVNDVS.  Enter Leodice, and Nurse. Leo. 
Nurse?  Nu. 
Madam?  Leo. 
Are the shoemakers gone that brought my Shoes?  Nu. 
I know not Madam; shall I see?  Leo. 
My shoe wrings me so it goes to the heart of me.  Nu. 
Marry the Gods forbid Lady.  Leo. 
How? does the Gods forbid to Marry wench?  Nu. 

I hope not Madam, I should be sorry they should.  
For the hopes that I have yet as old as I am,  
Shall I go call your Shoemaker?   Leo. 
Prithee do, but stay a little;  Nu. 
A little stay may make me look too late.  Leo. 

Thou sayst true, call 'em then, yet hark, 'twere as good not,  
The fault cannot be mended now:   Nu. 

But you may let him know his fault,  
And he'll mend it another time.   Leo. 
I thou sayst true in that, do, hark are thou goest.  Nu. 
Venus bless us, what cross measures are in your head!  Leo. 

How's that, you'll not control your Princes will ye?  
Is it not stately to be Fantastical, go call the  
Shoemaker yet you shall not neither.   Nu. 
e'en as you please, Madam, both either, or neither.  Leo, 

You shall do all, go, yet answer to me first.  
Was this young Shoemaker ere here before?   Nu. 

I think not Madam, 'tis some young Prentice  
Your old shoemaker of Feversham hath got.   Leo. 
Wast not a pretty youth?  Nu. 
I have seen a worse face in better clothes.  Leo. 
He drew my shoes on finely, quietly.  Nu. 

He would do well if he knew the true length  
Of your foot Madam.   Leo. 

'tis that he wants, he must know it  
Call him again.   Nu. 
I will: If you doubt call me back. Exit Nurse.  Leo. 

The length of my foot, a pretty figure  
If he be a good Anatomist, he may by one quantity  
Guess at another, and in the end take the whole Body's length  
Ha, some strange fantasies are crept within me, I'm not  
Acquainted with, 'tis a pretty youth if I may credit my  
Judgement at the first sight, and what's that to me, and  
Why not to me as well as to another: I am alone, and why  
Should I fear to tell myself my thoughts, I could love him,  
This tastes well of my tongue; Oh, but the coarseness of his condition  
Offends my stomach, when I should digest it, some Sectarist  
Now to screw and wrest a Text from his native sense, would  
Help me well in this, what am I, a woman, what's he a men▪  
Where's the inequality? my blood Royal, his perhaps ignoble,  
Whence springs that fount that runs all Royalty, 'tis the Sea  
itself, the lesser Rivulets and running Brooks are those of  
Common sense, yet all do mix and run in one another,  
What are Titles, Honours bestowed ad Regis placitum, should  
My Father make that shoemaker a Lord, then were he Noble,  
Yet where's his blood refine, tush tush, greatness is like a  
Glistering stone, more precious in the esteem than in the virtue:  
So, I am well called out of my contemplation.   Enter Nurse with Crispinus, and Barnaby, with Shoes on their Arms. Nu. 
Come sir, you must answer a default to my Lady.  Leo. 
Who made my shoes sirrah, they pinch me?  Bar. 

Indeed sweet Lady you must pardon this young man, 'tis  
His fault, he has not yet the true handling of his work, he  
Cannot go through stitch yet, I hope your Ladyship knows that  
I have worked as well for you, as any Cordwainer in Kent  
Or Canterbury could do, and for a tuneable heel I think  
I have played my part.   Leo. 
A tuneable heel, I prithee English it.  Bar. 

A creak Madam, for a Musical creak, ne'er a boy in Feversham  
Yet went beyond me: in time my junior will do pretty well,  
he's raw yet, at the change of his voice he'll creak far  
Better than he does yet.   Nu. 
And why was the creak of shoes first devised sir?  Bar. 

O for great cause for sooth, to hide faults, for if a gentlewoman  
Such as yourself, should chance to play too loud of her wind  
Instrument, the creak of the shoe will cover the noise.   Leo. 
You're pleasant sir, and what is this a Prentice?  Bar. 

Alas Madam, I would be loath to discredit the young man,  
he's but a colt yet, a subsizar as they say, I brought him along to the  
Court to show him fashions, and to instruct him how to handle a  
Lady's Leg, to draw home his work, and teach him his nill ultra  
How far he may go.   Leo. 
And how far's that, which are your bounds?  Bar. 

Non ultra crepitum as they say, this once learned, he  
Shall come alone hereafter.   Leo. 

You have done well sir, and so no doubt will he by my  
Instructions; what's thy name?   Cris. 
Crispinus Madam.  Nu. 
Were thy Parents of this profession?  Cris. 
I have forgot Madam  Leo. 
Is it so long since thou lost them?  Cris. 

But since these last war's Lady, yet as I remember they were  
Better than my present profession.   Nu. 

He speaks well, sure there is some hard characters which I  
Understand not: I like not these shoes, you must make an easier part?   Cris. 
I'll do my best to mend it Madam.  Leo. 

You promise well, let them be of your making then, that I  
May see how near you'll come to your promise.   Bar. 

Alas Madam, he'll pinch your toes if I do not instruct him,  
he's but a cobbler yet.   Leo. 

No matter, I'll hazard his good will, tomorrow let me have  
another pair, and bring them yourself.   Cris. 
I shall attend your Highness.  Leo. 

Come hither view my foot well, you must be better  
Acquainted with it.   Cris. 
Is it not here they pinch you Madam?  Leo. 
No 'tis a little higher.  Bar. 
Away, away for shame, did I teach you that carriage?  Leo. 
Now sir what will you do?  Bar. 

Teach him the true behaviour, hear, level me a leg  
Here, now stretch him outright upon your thigh, and than  
You may come to your work finely, I have found the fault now  
You are pinched in the very cranny.   Leo. 
You have hit it Sir.  Bar. 

I told you so, a man of a longer standing will do  
Always better than a puny, he shall mend it I warrant you Madam.   Leo, 
I hope he will: well, fail me not tomorrow,  Cris. 
I will not Madam, my duty to your Highness.  Bar. 
If he do Madam, you know your old man, for yark and Seam, and handling ware in his kind, you cannot put your egg in a better workman's hands though I say it sweet Lady. Due got a whee. Exit Crisp. and Bar.  Leo. 

There is an Idol or bed in his eye, that I could ever worship  
And if I should, sure he would bless me, love and folly,  
inseparate and joint companions, you are too violent upon  
Me now; to beat affection with such down right strokes  
On a Mechanic drudge, a base, how base? how base? is there no precedent  
That great Ladies have yoked their underlings in fellowship?  
I take some counsel, on't Nurse.   Nu. 
Shall I call the shoemaker again Lady?  Leo. 

Out witch, dost know my thoughts: the shoemaker, and why  
The shoemaker? I thought of him, why call him?   Nu. 
Nay I know not Madam.  Leo. 

thou'rt in love with him, I believe thou art, if I were certain  
That thou wert so base, I'd banish thee my presence; nay,  
My Father should banish thee the bounds of Britany, out old doting fool.   Nu. 
Madam why chide you me? I will not love your shoemaker.  Leo. 
My shoemaker minion.  Nu. 

Does he not make your shoes? therefore your shoemaker:  
But think not Lady I can be so base being so near your presence,  
To love such a groom, if but for your credit's sake.   Leo. 
Yet as great as you have doted on as base as he.  Nu. 

Yet that's no precedent for me, I have known Ladies remove  
Their stable grooms into their bedchambers, and lower offices than  
That too: o 'twas a policy, and hereafter may be in fashion for  
Great Ladies to match with their inferiors, because the woman  
Adding no dignity to the man, nor losing her own, still keeps  
Supremacy, he waits as dutiful on her trencher as when  
He was her servant.   Leo. 
Hast thou History for this?  Nu. 

Twenty of mine own knowledge, that I have seen in my days.  
〈◊〉 my closet, than thou shalt tell me some, if thou  
Pleasest 〈…〉 again, if I find precedent I'll  
Follow it, (I'll else begin myself,) if there be none  
Let after lady's coat me down for one. Exeunt.   Enter Amphiabell as an Hermit, and Albon. Al. 

Thou constant friend what title shall I give, due to thy merit;  
'Tis more than a friendly part to fetch from hell, friends turn  
At misery, they abide long that part at prison doors, the  
Best lasts but till death, but thou hast stood the renovation of  
A second life; what may be given him for an epithet  
That of a tyrant makes a proselyte?   Am. 

You cannot add unto the happiness Amphiabell hath found  
In honoured Albon, joint with my own Salvation, I desire your  
Partnership Christianity, which as a second means  
I have confirmed.   Al. 

I am your poor Disciple, my tutor Mr. but friend I call you by  
No other name, although I derogate from your Princely Office  
Cause I will follow you, if not proceed, ever through the  
Jaws of persecution; I will not trust your person to the danger:  
Let this help your haste, although Prince of Wales, yet in the  
Course you take you may chance need  
This drudging god of fools to help you speed.   Am. 

He take your love for what I shall not need I shall bestow where  
There is need enough, with this memorial I leave you Sir.  
Where but this Emblem of a Christian, not as a thing material  
To wail you, but for the strengthning of your memory, you shall  
At sight of this still keep in mind, all those instructions I have  
Read to you; and virtuous Lord, what in your power and greatness  
You may afford unto distressed Christians: be free in Charity.   Al. 

Let me approve without a boast, the action of my love; this in the  
Open face of tyranny, I'll daring wear: and in approbation of  
Such an Altar, Sacrifice my blood: but sweet friend hear of me,  
Behold it not: I would not have you lost.   Amphi. 
You shall prevail.  Al. 

Put me in your prayers, that mercies white hand may cross  
The debt book wherein I stand above my height in gore, this  
Hand hath done an act of bloody persecution.   Am. 

Trouble not your bosom, your end shall crown  
The bad that's past, with a more full renown. Exit Amphi.   flourish. Enter with Drum and Colours, Maximinus, Basseanus, Rutullus, with an Army. Max. 
Where is Lord Albon?  Al. 
Here Maximinus.  Max. 

What, thy Sword sleeping in thy scabbard Knight? thou art  
Too gentle in thy Stewardship, these Hydra headed Christians  
More increase thy persecution; speak Prince of Knights, for  
Such an honour we bestowed on thee: why art not wading in a  
Stream of blood? true Romans use to swim in such a flood.   Al. 
But I am an English man.  Max. 
Yet substitute to Rome.  Al. 
Not.  Max. 
Is this Albon?  Al. 
Not persecuting, but Christian Albon.  Bass. 

See great Emperor, in your face he wears, the daring  
Badge of Christianity.   Al. 

Yes Emperor, read in this book, if by this abstract  
Thou canst understand, the Volume is within.   Max. 

'Tis as we suspect, that painful Schoolmaster Am. is here,  
Make swift and careful search through Virulome,  
Lop him and the head is perished.   Al. 
You'll search too late.  Max. 
Where is he traitor?  Al. 
Gone, I have conveyed him hence.  Max. 
Why didst thou not fly for thine own safety?  Al. 

No, I have deserved to feel a tyrant's sword, because my sword  
Was glazed in tyranny; I am in debt for blood, make thou it even,  
Tyrants and fiends are officers to heaven.   Max. 
Hale him to the Temple, or force him kneel unto our Roman god, or kill the heretic.  Al. 
Kill me first, or I shall spurn thine Idol.  Max. 

If he recant not, torture, no mercy show.  
A recreant friend worse than an open foe.   Al. 

I am blessed in curses, now Albon shall be tried,  
Man is gold oar, when he is purified Exit Alb.   Max. 

A second limb is from our body cut, in Albon's relapse; it is  
That pedant Prince, that seminary Knight Amphiabell, that  
Poisons thus the current of our State: Bassianus, with two Roman  
Legions pursue that Cambrian sectarist Amphi: his flight  
Will be to Wales, lay desolate the confines of that superstitious  
Virgin, that with her sorcerous devotion works miracles,  
By which she draws Christians, faster than we can kill 'em:  
Let her feel our vengeance.   Bass. 
As Max. will, where Caesar bids strike Bassianus kills.  Max. 
What means this?  Enter Rutullus, and Nuntius. Rut. 
A messenger from Dioclesian.  Nun. 

Fair and Royal greetings, with them entreating great Max.  
Some present succour in this Gallia Wars, Alaric King of  
Goaths hath entered France, with odds of strength against Dioclesian;  
A breathing truce is yet concluded on, until the Calends of  
The following month, in which there is a day prefixed for battle,  
For this he craves thy aid from Brittany, that Romans still  
May write victoria.   Max. 

We, or our best of help he might command, by virtue of that  
Love he lent to us: Rutullus, collect 10000. ablest Britons  
By our express command, let them be mixed with two Roman Bands,  
With both pass the Sea, and in our name greet Diocle: Say we  
Do wish our personal Arm with him, did not increasing troubles  
Stay us here: so should it be; the rest we'll write to him,  
Rutullus haste, this must not be delayed: Bassianus to thy charge,  
myself to mine, our works are one to scourge the Christians,  
Blood is the theme we treat in Roman hand,  
we'll write the comment large o'er all the Land. Exeunt.   Enter Leodice, and Nurse. Leo. 
Nay prithee tell it on Nurse.  Nu. 

Good faith I am weary Madam, I never knew my tongue  
Would tire before: you have not let me close mine eyes tonight.   Leo. 
Did not I watch with thee?  Nu. 
But I am old, when I was young, love would have kept me waking.  Leo. 

So could a young Bachelor yet, widow, I prithee finish but  
Thy last discourse 'mongst all thy Cotations of men made;  
Great that were ignoble borne, this I most desire; was  
Dioclesian joint Caesar with my Father, that oft hath made  
Rome gorgeous with his triumphs, but of so mean descent  
As thou reports?   Nu. 
A scrivener's son, no better verily, there's many Bonds yet in Rome uncanceled, where he's subscribed a public notary.  Leo. 
And yet is that no blemish to his son?  Nu. 

Not at all Madam, nay I could come nearer were I sure it  
Would not offend your Grace.   Leo. 
My Grace be pledge, out, prithee speak freely?  Nu. 

As I have heard great Maximinus' Father, your Father's  
Father Madam, was but even a Smith, that with his labour  
Hammered out his living.   Leo. 

'Tis true, I have heard my Father boast it, yet had I forgot it.  
Oh Majesty! thou may mest the memory, it loseth all Records  
That are beneath us, now no more: prithee see if my  
Shoemaker be come yet, I'll walk abroad perhaps to take the air.   Nu. 

'Tis now my every morning's work to watch the coming of  
Your shoemaker: pray Venus my Lady tread not her shoes awry,  
She changes her shoes so often. Exit Nurse.   Leo. 

I have not slept tonight, I shall be tame if I be if I be kept thus  
My former words, I say thou art a Suitor to my woman?   Cris. 
Madam, in this revived memory I protest.  Leo. 

Thou shalt not swear and lie, I'll make it plain  
To thy confession; art not her shoemaker?   Cris. 
Yes Madam.  Leo. 

Then her Suitor; I am a Roman sir, and speak that tongue;  
Is not a Suitor a Shoemaker?   Cris. 

My trade, in that sense I confess it Lady,  
And so far I am a Suitor to your Highness.   Leo. 

I would thou wert, in the plain English sense,  
Thou shouldst have then few nays.   Cris. 
I trouble you Madam.  Leo. 

Not: since I am so far in discourse with you, I'll bring it  
To some end: suppose shoemaker my woman did love you, and  
Would have me to speak for her, what answer should I have?   Cris. 

Madam, this intercourse, you have vouchsafed so kindly with  
Your Servant, somewhat emboldens me.   Leo. 
Be bold, and say what answer shall I have?  Cris. 
she's old.  Leo. 

Old! this is a new answer; will not her dignity, wealth,  
And Estate, make her young again?   Cri. 
I could not choose by supposition so, if I durst speak freely.  Leo. 
You would have one young then I perceive?  Cris. 

Since I am free to speak, I would Lady; young for my eye, and  
Rich to mend my state: but alas Madam, I am a prentice and must  
Not wed.   Leo. 
For doubling of your prenticeship?  Cris. 

Nay, I might treble that doubling, for to a wife  
I bind me to a perpetual prenticeship.   Leo, 
So 'twere one you loved, 'twere pleasing servitude?  Cris. 
I think it were Madam.  Leo. 
Dare you venture on a wife of my choosing?  Cris. 
If both parties were agreed Lady.  Leo. 

That's no venture, I'll promise she shall be young, good  
Parentage, honest, let her beauty commend itself.   Cris. 

It pleases Majesty some times to make sport with humble  
Vasselage, so do you with me Lady.   Leo. 

You are too hard of belief, I mean plainly, I have  
Some skill in Magic, what would you give  
To see her amply personated in a glass, that must be your wife?   Cris. 
I would venture a chiding to stay so long: what my this mean?  Leo. 

I could by metroposcopy read thy fate here in thy forehead;  
By chiromancy find it in thy Palm, but these are petty  
Arts, no I'll show thee by speculatory magic, her face  
In this glass; kneel sir, for't must be done with reverence  
I tell you: now tell me what thou seest?   Cris. 
I see a shadow Madam.  Leo. 

'Tis but a shadow, hold up thy right hand and look again,  
What seest thou now? any substance yet?   Cris. 
I know not Madam, I am enchanted with your Magic  Leo. 
How lik'st her now, has she a good face?  Cris. 
'tis very well made Madam.  Leo. 
Who does she resemble?  Cris. 
yourself, I think Lady.  Leo. 
ay, she's very like me.  Cris. 
I would she were not.  Leo. 
Why wouldst not have her like me?  Cris. 
Because no like's the same.  Leo. 

'Tis too long to dally, away with shadows, and embrace  
The substance, introth I love thee; nay, do not fear— I'll  
Share all dangers with thee.   Cris. 

Danger Madam, were she browed like Nemesis,  
tusked with Scorpions stings, as keen for spoil as an  
Incensed fury, I would stand in this quarrel 'gainst her  
Open throat: but do you not dally with a poor wretch?   Leo. 

Wrong not my love with doubt, look I'll pay thee back  
Thy duty given to me, thouart my better by virtue of my  
Honourable love, I make thee here my head: Thou shalt  
No more descend unto my foot, here thy work shall be,  
Whilst in thine eyes two wanton Cupids skip,  
Thou shalt lay Velvet touches on my lip.   Cris. 

Faith Madam, your lips deserve better than your foot,  
That's two piled velvet, this must needs be three:  
Nay since you have raised me above the instep  
I'll reach at the highest now.   Leo. 

Yet all's not done, two pair of Rosy cheeks shall tie them on:  
Shall I not need to fear thee?   Cris, 

Not, I'll quell your fears, for now I'll put my life  
Into your hands, to manifest the virtue of my love, for  
Heaven hath been a motive to your love: For know sweet,  
'Tis no base contract, but of the royal'st Blood in Britany:  
Love would not so have forced you to an error, Crispinus  
Is but borrowed, a poor shroud to keep my life in, Offa is my  
Own, the youngest Son to the late vanquished Alured,  
Eldred my Brother, both supposed slain, yet live within a  
Parallel disguise; I am no richer than I was before,  
But in that clouded Title.   Leo. 

If I could love thee better than I did I should, but introth  
I cannot, but for the safest guardian of thy life, 'tis in my  
Heart, and that shall be plucked out ere it be found to harm thee.   Cris. 
What's then to be done?  Leo. 

Our instant Marriage, that's the surest way, hazard a  
Chiding for thy negligence, and linger here about the  
Court tonight, tomorrow morning in some humble  
Habit we'll steal the guardian; it shall be my task  
To provide the Churchman.   Cris. 
There shall not want a Bridegroom.  Leo. 

May I ever lie alone if there want a Bride, and that's a  
Curse that I should be loath to endure, mean time be this the contract,  
This the word of troth.   Cris. 
The morning and a Priest shall make one of both.  Leo. 
There goes my heart.  Cris. 
I'll keep it till tomorrow.  Leo. 
Shut night, sweet Phebe on thy swiftest Arrow. Exit Leo.  Cris. 

What pretty flies in love's sweet web do lurk,  
I must be Married, then unto my work. Exit Cris.    

ACTVS TERTIVS.  Enter Sir Hugh. Hugh. 

My three months' banishment I have observed,  
And now the dated limit gives me leave to reapproach my  
Interdicted Saint; once more sweet love I do invoke thy  
Power, to bless my poor unspotted Sacrifice, the offering  
Of a loving loyal heart: This is the customary retirement  
Where daily she frequents, this speaks her name, and speaks  
Her virtues in a bubbling murmur, which many ages after her  
Ascent up to that glorious Asterisine above, shall keep  
And tell to long Posterities, within this liquid Oracle shall be  
Read, heaven wrought a miracle for Winifred, here I'll Lies down  
Await, and while my tongue takes rest, solace my thought.   Enter Winifred, with a book and a servant. Win. 

Return and give notice to Amphiabell, that I am walked  
Abroad, as he entreated.   Ser. 
I will Madam.  Win, 

His company is sweet fellowship; wanton folly, thou hast  
No harbour in Amphiabell, but high and holy meditations,  
Rare virtues in a Prince, the example's good, and I will follow  
It; yea if thou goest into the Militant Field of martyrdom.  
Ha, who's that? this is not the company that my desires do with.   Hugh. 

Nay stay sweet Virgin, rather let me leave the place,  
Whose presence offends the place; yet, if you vouchsafe,  
Offend I may by your construction, but not by willing heart.   Win. 

I fear your method sir, would I might err in false  
Supposition, speak and I'll tell you.   Hugh. 
My three months' exile is expired.  Win. 
And you have well observed it?  Hugh. 

Then give me leave to reattempt my suit, which I have  
Kept a painful sojourner in my unquiet bosom.   Win. 

'Twas your own tyranny to add to my injunction, I craved  
But one month, and you would proffer three.   Hugh. 
'Twas folly in my duty.  Win. 

Which still you do persist in, for since you left me  
I am contract and wedded.   Hugh. 
Am I out rivaled?  Win. 

War not with heaven sir, to that is tied my Nuptial  
gordian, within you house of stars the Bridegroom sits,  
And there the Spousal chamber is prepared, you are the  
Golden hymeneal flames, whose spheric Music,  
Chaste Hallelujahs sing, to celebration of my Virgin rights:  
Oh labour not then to divorce me thence, since all the fruit  
Will be but vain expense: my love is fixed, and we have  
But one love; you seek for that below that's gone above.   Hugh. 
You are too obstinate.  Win. 

O chide yourself sir, 'tis your own sin, you are too obstinate  
To persevere against a decree of Fate: be this the final answer to  
Your suit; if ever mortal man have attribute of Winifred's Husband,  
'T shall be Sir Hugh, if it be debt to any 'tis your due.   Hugh. 
A desperate debt, hopeless of recovery.  Win. 

And as the test to your fair seeming love, whether it Noble  
Were or counterfeit, by its best virtue here I charge you Sir,  
To move no further questions at this time, for if you speak  
I will not answer you; you may in silence stay:  
Thus do I turn setting the world a part,  
Here fix mine eyes, and with mine eyes my heart.   Hugh. 

Thou gilded poison, my tongue is silent, but my unquiet  
Thoughts will still take leave, to think of thy perverse  
Unkind disdain; I'll think thee peevish, and blame all  
Thy Sects for thyself sin, for thou wert all to me;  
Vanish all State, and Wales bow to the yoke of tyrant's  
Servitude, no defensive stroke shall this Arm lift  
To save me from thy thrall: rest there regard less honour,  
And take a fall before thy pride; hence forth some  
Humble mean, that will afford but merit to my pain,  
Shall be my lives traffic, I'll never mind  
This, or too fickle, or too cruel kind,  
But thus conclude, for thee I prove accursed,  
Extreme in both, thou art both best and worst. Exit Hugh.   Enter Amphiabell. Win. 
whose's there Amphiabell?  Am. 
Yes virtuous Lady.  Win. 
Thou abidest still.  Am. 

To death: Christians tire not till they be out of breath,  
Life labours here, at death the wage doth come,  
Which Tyrants pay in Crowns of martyrdom.   Enter Bassianus, Lutio, and Romans. Bass. 
We forage unresisted: soft who are these?  Lut. 
Cease first, and then examine.  Am. 
Two, that will neither fly, nor resist your force.  Bass. 
Then you will surely die Amphiabell.  Am. 
Yes.  Bass. 
And the holy Virgin.  Win. 
So, unhappy Tyrant.  Bass. 

The Triumphs of our Wars; here pursuit shall stay,  
In your surprise we have achieved the day.   Win. 

Ring out your triumphs loud, 'tis a large boast,  
You have gained much, and we have nothing lost.   Bass. 

Thou art a traitor Capital to Rome, from whence thy  
Knightly honours were derived, 'twas thy seditious  
Heresy that wrought the wrack of honoured Albon, even  
This Lady hast thou seduced, a merciful summons now calls  
His last to thee, turn unto Rome, and worship give unto  
Our Golden gods.   Am. 
No, I will not; when I crave mercy, give it.  Win. 

Thou deputy tyrant, this place is hallowed; do not awake  
the thunder, if it strike, the boult will fall down  
Perpendicular, and strike thee under mercy.   Bass. 

Ha, ha, ha; what pretty dreams these Christians  
Apprehend: They say your well is very Sovereign to cure the  
Itch, I have got a scab, today I'll try the virtue of your  
Virgin water, 'tis good for sore eyes too, is't not? mine  
Are some thing Rheumatic.   Win. 
Do, play with Lightning till it blasts thee.  Lut. 

Oh! here's hell, witchcraft, my eyes are lost, this sorcerous  
Pool hath ta'en away my sight: witch He find thee out,  
And break thy Magic, by drawing of thy blood.   Bass. 
Has wounded me.  Win. 
Lay hold upon him, he'll do more mischief else.  Lut. 
Guide me to the devil.  Win. 

Thou art going right blindfold, hold fast his hands, I will be  
Charitable unto my persecutors: now see the change,  
Virtue, abused turns unto damage more,  
By help of heaven thus I thine eyes restore.   Lut. 
Ha, is't day again?  Win. 
Wilt thou understand from whence thy succour comes?  Lut. 

From Apollo, and jupiter, the gods of Rome,  
Who would not see a witch abuse their creature, away with  
Her to th' fire till she be burnt and dead, mine eyes  
Will stand in fear within my head.   Bass. 

Let them be guarded unto Verolome, where first they shall  
Behold the dreadful sufferings of revolted Albon,  
As you look on, and see his tortures please, follow destruction.   Win. 

Come constant friend, now comes the wished day,  
The path to bliss is through a thorny way. Exeunt.   Enter with a Trumpet, Rutullus, Shoemaker, and his Wife. Shoo. 

One out of my house my Lord? I am the PRINCE's Shoemaker,  
Will not that excuse me?   Rut. 
My Commission's strict, let me see your household.  Shoo. 

I know not which to part with believe me sir,  
But you shall see them all, Ralph, Barnaby, Crispinus,  
Crispianus, appear my boys?   Enter Ralph and Crispianus. Shoo. 
Look, here's most of my store.  Rut. 
The worst of these will serve; but here's not all.  Shoo. 
Barnaby, where's Barnaby?  Wife. 
That knave will still be backward: why Barnaby.  Enter Barnaby, with a Kercher on. Bar. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Shoo. 
Why how now Barnaby, what fallen sick o'th' sudden Bar? Oh Master, I have such a singing in my head, my toes are Cramped too.  Shoo. 
What from head to foot already, where lies thy pain? Here, here about my heart Mr. I have an Issue here too,  Bar. 
Oh Master, if you did but feel what a breath comes out, You would stop your nose in't.  Wife. 
Come, come, you are a lazy knave, you must be pressed for a Soldier  Bar. 
Oh dame, I'll confess and be hanged rather than I'll be pressed.  Cris. 
The Drums and Trumpets will revive thee man.  Bar. 
Alas, if I hear any noise I'm a dead man.  Shoo. 
Ralph, what sayst thou, wilt thou serve the King?  Ral. 
I cannot serve a better Mr. if the King does entertain me, I'll do him the best service that I can.  Cris. 

I beseech you sir let me excuse the rest: I have a mind  
To meet a foe i'th' field, methinks I could perform  
Some worthy act, that at my back return,  
You should be proud to say my Servant did it.   Shoo. 

Ye, sayst thou so boy? I like thy forwardness,  
But I'd be loath to lose thee yet.   Wife, 
Alas man the boys young, his tender limbs are scarce Well jointed yet, let Ralph, or Barnaby, undertake that task, 'Tis sitter for either.  Bar. 
Oh a little aqua-compositor: good dame, I have a quaking Ague come upon me.  Wife. 

A fever lurden have you not? you lazy knave you,  
Wilt thou let a boy out dare thee?   Cris. 
Good dame persuade him not against his heart, such brave designs As Soldiers undergo, should not be forced, but free and voluntary. A Coward in a Camp more spoils an Army by faint example of his frozen blood, than a full Squadron of the daring'st foes surprisingst advantage.  Rut. 

A forward spirit,  
Such a fair promise cannot want performance:  
Thou shalt be my choice; accept thy press-money, and for the hopes  
That I expect from thee, thy Rank shall not be common.   Wife. 
Alack, alack, the Boy is forward, but far unable; Sir pray spare him and take either of these.  Bar. 
Oh, I have a stitch in my Elbow here; a little Parmacadius.  Wife. 
A false stitch I warrant thee, the Wars will pick it out.  Shoo. 

Peace Sisley; Boy, since thou art so forward, I will not stay  
The freedom of thy spirit; so I might hinder thee from better hopes  
Than my poor substance could endow thee with: go,  
And good fortune keep thee company; if thou return'st, thou shalt  
Be welcome still. I must be willing though against my will,  
To leave thee Boy.   Wife. 
And welcome shalt thou be to thy Dame boy; if there come but a leg on thee back, the worst member thou hast, shall be welcome to me; lame or blind, if thou com'st back, thou shalt want no Hospital-pension as long as I live.  Shoo. 
Gramercy for that Sis; I'll fell all the shoes in my Shop Before my lame Soldier shall be kept in an Hospital.  Crispia. 

Your loves are Parentlike, not as to a servant, but a child:  
The Heavens in safety keep you; my prayers in duty shall be  
Here at home, when my body's distant. I beseech you Sir,  
Commend me to my Brother Raph, Barnaby farewell.   Bar. 
Farewell good Crispian. I shall never see thee more.  Crispia. 
Tush, fear not; nay, if e'er I do return, I'll bring home Stories that we'll turn to Meeter, & sing away our work with 'em.  Bar. 
Farewell Crispianus.  Crispia. 
Master and Dame, once more I bid farewell, 'Tis brave to die where Trumpets ring the Knell.  Rut. 
Come Crispianus.  Wife. 
Well, go thy ways, and take the kindest youth with thee, that e'er set foot in the stirrup.  Shoo. 
How now Barnaby, art any thing better yet?  Bar. 
I am somewhat better than I was Master; I do begin to feel myself better and better.  Wife. 
Oh you are a cunning counterfeit knave sirrah.  Bar. 
O Mistress, there is always policy in Wars as well as blows: if it be good sleeping in a whole skin, it must needs be bad sleeping in a broken one; and he that cannot sleep well, it is a sign he cannot drink well; and he that does not drink well, never digests his meat well; and he that digests not his meat well, 'tis a sign he h'as not a good stomach; and he that h'as not a good stomach, is not fit for the Wars. I did think it better to stay at home truly Master.  Shoo. 
The end is, thou hadst rather work than fight Boy: I had rather thou shouldst too: but I wonder I hear not of Crispinus yet.  Wife. 
Truly man I am afraid he's pressed at Canterbury.  Enter Crispinus. Crisp. 

All the way twixt this and Canterbury will not afford me  
An excuse sufficient for tarrying so long out of my Master's house:  
The truth I dare not tell, 'twere better lie than confess my  
Lying with the Emperor's Daughter, though the case be honest,  
Being my Wife: Well, somewhat it must be, I know not what yet;  
If I endure a rough chiding for my pains, it is but sauce to sweet Meats.   Shoo. 
Look, look Wife, he's come: why how now Crispinus, How comes it you have stayed so long?  Wife. 
O you are a fine loitering youth, what, lie out of your Master's house!  Crisp. 
Your pardon once good Dame, I was in no bad company.  Wife. 
Who knows that sir? you frighted both your Master & me; We thought you had been pressed for a Soldier, as your Brother is.  Crisp. 
So now my Dame h'as helped me to an excuse: Why truly Dame that was my fear; I was sane to shroud myself in the Court all night for fear of the press.  Shoo. 
Nay then 'twas well done Boy, I would not have lost thee too.  Wife. 
ay, ay, the flower's plucked, but the weed remains; thy brother that's gone, would not have served me so.  Shoo. 
Peace good Eve, no more words, the excuse is honest.  Wife. 
ay, ay, you'll mar 'em all: but he had better been asleep.  Bar. 

Well cousin Hugh, I will do my best to instruct thee:  
But you must take heed there be no Turkey-cocks in your work.   Hugh. 
When I understand the English Sir, I'll observe you.  Bar. 
Your turkey-cock is as much as to say, Cobble, cobble, cobble; You must take heed of cobbling.  Shoo. 

Come on good fellow, I'll teach thee a good Trade:  
A Gentleman, if he want better means, may live well by it;  
And this I'll promise thee after some term of years to make thee free:  
Or if thou die, and that's a Christians best  
I'll see thy bones laid quietly to rest. Exeunt.   Enter Dioclesian, the Eagle borne before him at one door, at the other, Huldrick and Rodrick, Kings of the Goths and Vandalls, with their Army. Diocle. 

Advance the Roman Eagle, and command  
Our armed Legions to troop close, and stand.   Rod. 
The Romans are in fight, Drums beat a parley.  Diocle. 

Death blur their parley, we'll not answer  
The thunder of their Drums: our Eagle shall not nestle by base  
Ravens, but to peck out their eyes; our Swords shall answer  
The Thunder of their Drums, the Roman Caesar holds scorn  
To parley with such servile Nations, as you the barbarous Vandalls  
And Goths, poor frozen Snakes, that from the Northern cold  
Creep to the warmth of the sun's Western fires,  
Troubling our fertile Lands, and like starved sheep,  
You spoil the Countries with a line you keep in Regions beggarly.   Hul. 
Dioclesian, hear me.  Diocle. 
What croaks the Raven?  Hul. 

Proud Roman this: if here thou longer stay,  
he'll peck thine Eagles eyes out, make thee a prey  
To his stern Gripe, whose dismal beak now sings the sudden ruin   Diocle. 
Of two barbarous Kings.  Rod. 

Insulting Tyrant, stop thy scandalous breath,  
Thy blood shall find us Kings and Soldiers both:  
We are a swelling Sea, and our own Barks,  
Not large enough to bound us, are broke forth  
Like a resistless Torrent to o'erwhelm and drown  
In blood all Nations that withstand us.  
Thou seest already Germany is ours; so shall fair France be,  
At least those parts that lie upon the Rhine, and fertile Burgundy  
Which if thou grant before the Battles join,  
We will retire, and league with thee and Rome.   Diocle. 
Ha, ha, ha; must lions be enforced to league with Wolves.  Hul. 

If thou deny it,  
By the glorious Sun, and all the Deities our men adore,  
we'll forage up to Rome and Italy, and fit  
In triumph in your Capitol: the Vandals and the Goaths shall carve  
Their fames as deep as now the Romans do their Names:  
Raise up as many Trophies, and as high,  
In brazen pillars of their victory.   Diocle. 

Poor Flies, behold the Eagle, and give o'er;  
Strive not to cope with strength beyond your power,  
For us she spreads her wings as far and bright,  
As in a Day the Sun rides with his light,  
And that's the universal Globe of Earth:  
Europe's proud throat we tread on:  
Afrique and Asia our Eagles talents gripe,  
The Lords of Rome fathom both Land and Deep.   Rod. 

New Lords new Laws renew,  
As you of others, we'll be Lords of you.   Diocle. 

we'll hear no more; call up the Britain Soldiers  
Our Brother Maximinus sent unto our aid, let 'em begin the battle,  
Fight like Romans: Remember this, your enemies are base;  
Let your Swords work like scythes confound these swarms,  
And sweep these Locusts hence with conquering Arms. Exeunt.   Alarum. Enter Roderick and Huldrick with Soldiers at one door, at the other, Crispianus and Britons, fight and drive off the Vandals. Enter Roderick and Huldrick. Rod. 
These Romans fight like devils.  Hul. 

Spirits infernal could not charge so hotly;  
Disgraced i'th' onset: Counsel Roderick, what's to be done?  
Our men sly, not able to endure 'em.   Rod. 

Knit all our Nerves in one;  
Renowned Huldrick high to thy Troops,  
And with thy valiant Goths assail the Romans  
In their hindmost Flanks, and break into their main Battalia;  
Whilst here I stay, and hold the Britons' play.   Hul. 

I like it well; divided Arms thrive best,  
This day we'll climb the lofty eagle's nest. Exit.   Enter Dioclesian. Dioc. 
Turn thee base Vandal.  Rod. 
Roman 'tis thee I seek.  Dioc. 

And thou hast found me;  
He teach thee speak the Roman Language.   Rod. 

And thou shalt learn from me the Art of War,  
And Discipline of Arms the Vandals teach.   Dioc. 

A Fencer 'tis agreed.  
The School trick thou shalt learn at first blow. Alarum.   Rodericke hath Dioclesian down: Crispianus fights with Rodericke and rescues him; and beats off Rodericke. Dioc. 
What art thou that hast saved me?  Cris. 
A Soldier: What art thou so saved?  Dioc. 
An Emperor.  Cris. 

Thou art saved then by a Warlike Britain soldier:  
And had I many lives as drops of blood,  
I'd spend them all to do great Caesar good.   Dioc. 

I thank thee: follow thy fortunes, and go on;  
The gods of Rome fit on thy weapon still:  
The battle ended, see me in my Tent.   Cris. 
I will. Exit.  Dioc. 

Immortal gods!  
How crept a Kingly spirit into a breast so low!  
How now, how goes the day? Enter a Roman.   Rom. 

Bloody and dismal; Huldrick K. of Goths entered our Ranks,  
And like a Whirlwind, sweeps, and beats down our main,  
Battalia, seizing by force the Roman Eagle.   Dioc. 
How Traitor?  Rom. 

Believe it fir 'tis lost, and now in triumph  
o'er his Plume she claps her wings on high,  
With echoing shout of present victory.   Dioc. 
The Roman gods forbid: Let a Trumpet call up the Britain's to recover it. Exit.  Enter Huldricke King of Gothes. Hul. 
Yield thee proud Roman, the sable raven's plume Hath struck thy Eagle blind, and blasted Rome.  Dioc. 

Hand of thou barbarous slave;  
I still can boast my state's Imperial.   Hul. 

Tut, that Title's lost, thou art now  
Within my power: fly to King Roderick,  
And glad his ears with news of what you see,  
And with our Drums proclaim the victory.   Enter Crispianus with Eagle and Soldiers. Cris. 
Base Goth look up, and see here hovers Eagle Winged victory, recovered from thy troops.  Hul. 
'Sdeath lost again.  Dioc. 
Fight Warlike Britons, free your Emperor.  Cris. 

We shall, or die:  
This holds the Goths death; this thy liberty.   Alarum: Crispianus fights with his sword in one hand, and the Eagle in the other: he kills Huldricke, and frees Dioclesian. Dioc. 

Twice is my life indebted to thy valour:  
Admired Soldier, if I win the day,  
Never had Britain Soldier such a pay  
As thou shalt have.   Cris. 

Talk not of debts, or pay, let's hence and fight;  
As long as I have breath I'll hold your right.  
soldier's troop close, our task is not yet done;  
I'll keep your Eagle till the battle's won.   Dioc. 
Keep it with fame.  Crisp. 
Even to my latest breath. Exit.  Dioc. 
The glory's thine, thou hast saved me twice from death.  Alarum: a shout within: Enter Rodericke and Vandals. Rod. 

This Britons are all Devils,  
And amongst them there's one master Devil,  
That bears the face of a base Common soldier;  
Yet on his horns he tosseth up our Vandals.  
Now, what News? Enter a Captain.   Cap. 

Roderick fly, and save thy life;  
Huldrick the King of Goths is slain.   Rod. 

I out go him in life, he me in fame:  
In spite we'll after him with glorious wings,  
A bloody field is a brave Tomb for Kings.   Cap. 

Hazard not all at one cast, since you see  
The Dice runs high against ye; but give way,  
Set not the board when you see fortune play:  
Winning the main no safety 'tis to fight.   Rod. 
How then?  Cap. 

Over the Rhine my Lord make speedy flight;  
The wheel of Chance may turn, and the dice run  
For us to get, what now our foes have won.   A shout within: Enter Crispianus and the rest, driving off the Vandals: he takes Rodericke prisoner; a retreat sounded: Enter Dioclesian with victory. Crisp. 

Now to the Royal hand of Caesar I resign  
The high Imperial Ensign of great Rome;  
And with it, this wild tusked Boar, the stubborn Vandal,  
Snared in the toils, and conquered by this sword;  
I could have served his head up at your board:  
But since for glory, more than blood we strive,  
I'd rather have a Lion ta'e alive.   Dioc. 

Noble thou art, as valiant,  
And this day thy only sword the greater half  
Hath won, and we must pay thy merits.  
What's thy name?   Crisp 
Crispianus sir.  Dioc. 
Of what birth or fortunes.  Crisp. 

You may read them here, writ on my bosom sir:  
A common Soldier, yet were my Parents  
Good and generous, they dead, and I down sinking in my state,  
As others do, I swore to cross the Fate  
that crossed me: and when all hopes else did fade,  
I got my living by an honest trade:  
A Shoemaker my Lord, where merrily,  
With frolic mates, I spent my days, till when,  
Being pressed to wars amongst my Countrymen,  
Hither I came, and here my prize is played,  
For Britain's honour, and my Master's trade:  
This Vandal is my Prisoner: frown not sir,  
Great looks can ne'er put down a Shoemaker.   Rod. 

Your fortune rises sir, and I must bow:  
I was ne'er i'th' shoemaker's stocks till now.   Dioc. 

Renowned Crispianus, royal thanks shall to our brother  
Maximinus fly, for sending such a Soldier.  
Kneel down, and rise a Britain Knight;  
Hence forth bear Arms and Shield;  
Thou hast won thy honour truly in the field.  
Besides our gift, the ransom of this King  
I freely give; and that thy same may sing a lofty note,  
Back to thy Country lead these Britain Soldiers,  
Over whom I make thee head; and to the Emperor  
Maximinus thou shalt bear such Letters from ourself,  
As he shall rear and swell thine honours,  
And when we in France have laid  
These Whirlwinds that now shake the State,  
we'll cross the seas to Britain after thee.   Crisp. 
The gods with Garlands crown thy victory.  Rod. 

What ransom you set down I'll truly pay,  
And draw my forces back to Germany,  
There to confine ourselves; the Vandals knee  
Now humbly bows to th' Roman Empery.   Dioc. 

And that obedience Roderick we'll embrace.  
Lead Crispianus to receive the Ransom:  
Vandal and Goths; nay, Rome herself shall swear,  
She never met so brave a Shoemaker. A Flourish. Exeunt.    

ACTUS QUARTUS.  Enter Crispinus and Leodice with child. Cris. 
Be comforted my dear Leodice.  Leod. 

How can I want sweet comfort, having thee? alack, that  
Pleasure stolen, being back returned, should taste so sour:  
It seems a shallow Ford, when first 'tis tried;  
But when the depth we found,  
It is a gulf of raging whirlpools found.   Cris. 

I know it Princely Love, and fear the event;  
Love in the paths of danger ever went:  
The morning flames of our desires burn bright,  
And shall do still in scorn of fortune's spite,  
If you but feed the fire.   Leod. 

O me! 'tis this I fear,  
The burden in my womb our deaths do bear.   Cris. 

Why shouldst thou fear the knot our hearts hath tide?  
Had heaven's strength to it; and heaven will sure provide  
For those whose names and faiths are written there.   Leod. 

What veil can now be drawn to hide our cares,  
Or keep this secret from our Father's ears.  
Of our stolen marriage?   Cris. 
Stay, let's devise.  Leod. 

It must be a thick cloud darkens the Sun:  
This day my Father sits to cast death's doom  
Upon the Christians: and that doom I know  
The fruit this Land brings next, must be my woe.   Cris. 

I prithee peace, the clock of misery goes always  
Too true: yet let me see it now.   Leod. 
Dearest I will.  Cris. 

Do this then; if the Emperor call for thee,  
Be sick and keep thy chamber,  
Until I get some place for thy delivery.   Leod. 
Swear to me one thing first.  Cris. 
whatever thou desirest.  Leod. 

Then as thou art Princely bred, I charge thee swear,  
That as above the world I hold thee dear,  
Thou wilt not leave me, whatsoever Thunder  
My Father throws at thee:  
king's frowns can be but death:  
From thee I'll never part unto my latest breath.   Cris. 

By all the truths that man ere swore by,  
No force of strength shall part us.   Leod. 

Peace, no more, I'll ask thee pardon for this base  
Mistrust: kiss thy gentle cheek, loving and mild:  
I know thou canst not leave thy wife and child.  
O me, I shall forget my present safety:  
Dear heart stand by.  
Nurse, Who's within there? Nurse.   Enter Nurse. Nurs. 
Anon sweet mouse.  Leod. 

Sweet honey Nurse,  
If the Emperor my father asks for me,  
Say I am not well, and keep my chamber.  
You Shoemaker a word,   Nurs. 
Yet more work for your Shoemaker, well, well, You play the wag, and I the lie must tell.  
I fear me there's a shoe wrings her i'th' instep, of my young shoemaker's making: such fellows as he cannot choose but be slippery companions; for first they know the length of a Lady's foot, and then they have such tricks to smooth her shoe, and tickle her sole; as I protest, if I were a Shoemaker myself, it would make my teeth water: what a sweet thing it is, to have a round sweet, plump, delicate calf of a Lady's leg lie rolling on his thigh, whilst he lies smoothing her fine silk stocking, slips his hand to her garters, and sometimes higher by’r lady; I have been served so myself: there's many a Gallant, I can tell you, would give all the shoes in's shop to have a shoemaker's office in a morning: Well, well, I say nothing, but I suspect something: Pity of me, she's as broad behind as I am, and round enough before: I doubt me he has made her a pair of short-heeled shoes with a turn-over: Come sweet Mouse, have you given instructions to your Shoemaker? Why what a fellow art thou, canst not find a Last to fit her yet?  Leod. 
Yes Nurse, he has fitted me now.  Nurse. 

That's well:  
You must be careful sirrah, you must take true measure,  
And fit her to a hair, I charge you.   Cris. 
I warrant you Mistress.  Nurse. 
Mistress! gods me; I am a Madam sir knave, though I am a Nurse, I can tell you: Go too, learn your duty, and you shall work to me too: when you have done with my Lady, you shall take up my leg too: Come sweet honey. Exit.  Leod. 
Adea my comfort.  Cris. 

Even so my heart goes from me:  
O what waves swim Lovers in! of fears, of hopes, of cares,  
Of discontents, terrors, and despairs.  
A thousand fears do now my poor heart shake,  
What medicine's best? Counsel, and that I'll take.   Enter Barnaby, Raph, and Hugh. Bar. 

Come, come, an you be men, make haste:  
You 'tis a hanging matter; the Emperor and all the Prisoners  
Are gone by already.   Raph 
Stay, stay, here's our fellow Crispin, let's take him with us. Wilt thou go along Crispin?  Cris. 

Whither should I go? prithee tell me,  
What make you all at Canterbury?   Bar. 

Not to buy the Cat a Bell Crispin, but to make loiter-pins.  
For this day Boy, we have made holy at Feversham,  
Shut up shop, thrown by our shoe-thread, and washed our faces:  
And now my Master and Dame, and all of us are come  
To see the Emperor, and the Christians that must die today.  
They say there's a fine young Queen amongst them:  
Prithee go along with us.   Cris. 
In sadness I cannot.  Bar. 

In madness now I care not:  
For our shoes are made of running leather,  
And therefore we'll gallop no man knows whether.  
Farewell Crispin: shalt see my Dame come chasting this away anon,  
'Cause we ran away from her: Come fellow Hugh,  
Thou art so sad now, I prithee be merry. Exit Barnaby and Raph.   Hugh. 

I'll follow straight, although to meet my ruin;  
The Princess Winifred is doomed to die,  
And I in death will bear her company. Exit.   Cris. 

Misery of times when Kings do kill,  
Not armed by Law to do it, but by will.  
From these deep woes that my poor Country bears  
Heaven save the Queen my Mother, Fates are just,  
And till the thread be spun, none turn to dust.   Enter the shoemaker's Wife sweating. Wife. 

Fie, fie, fie;  
Heaven for thy pity how am I used today!  
Here be youths indeed to run away, and leave me in this order.  
Do I keep one, two, three, four, and five journeymen,  
Besides Prentices, uprising and down-lying,  
And do they all bob me of this fashion?  
How now, art thou there Crispin? that's well:  
Did you see your fellows?   Cris. 
Yes my good Dame; they are all before you.  Wife. 

Then I'll have you before me too, but not so far as they are:  
Fie, fie, see how I sweat with following them:  
Come sir, though they gave me the slip, you'll not serve me so I hope.  
Go before, and man me.   Cris. 
O my good Dame!  Wife. 

How now Crispin, what's the matter Boy?  
Why are so many Chancery Bills drawn in your face?  
Now, where sits the wind that you blow so?  
What ail'st thou?   Cris. 

I have ever found you a kind loving Dame, nay, a good Mother  
Both to myself, and my poor Brother Crispianus.   Wife. 

Bless him good Heaven, upon what ground soe'er he tread:  
He was an honest fellow, and a good servant,  
And so he shall find, if e'er he come  
From the wars again.   Cris. 

Oh my good dame, I to your ears must now unlock  
A secret, which, if ere you blab abroad—   Wif. 

Never by my Holy dame;  
Yet I have much ado to keep my own secrets,  
But I'll keep thine I'll warrant thee.   Crisp. 
Nay look dame, my life and death lies on it.  Wif. 

Let what will lie on't,  
it shall ne'er be talked of by me.   Crisp. 

I'll thank ye then;  
This it is, but you will say nothing?   Wif. 
Dost think I am a woman or a beast?  Cris. 
Nor be angry with me?  Wif. 

Here's ado indeed,  
Thou hast not got a wench with child haste?   Cris. 

You have found my grief,  
Good dame, indeed I have.   Wif. 
Out upon thee Villain.  Cris. 
Nay good Dame.  Wif. 

Hence you Whoremaster knave,  
God's my passion, got a wench with child,  
Thou naughty pack thou hast undone thyself for ever:  
Precious coals, you are a fine youth indeed,  
Can you cut out no shoes but of duck's leather,  
With a wanion? has your Master so little doings,  
Your tools must be working abroad in a foreigner's shop?   Cris. 

Sweet Dame, you swore  
You would say nothing.   Wif. 

Nothing, hang thee villain, I'll cry it at the Market Cross:  
I'faith, is your awl so free for smock-leather?   Crisp. 
Good Dame.  Wif. 

By these ten fingers I'll double thy years for't:  
Oh that I knew the Quean, I'd slit her nose,  
And tear her eyes out of her head i'faith.   Enter Shoemaker. Shoo. 
How now, what's the matter that it thunders so?  Wif. 
Oh, you are as good a Master too o'th' to the side: you look to your Prentices well; one of your men has been at green-goose fair; but he shall pay for the sauce I'll warrant him.  Shoo. 
What Fair? what Sauce, goody gandergoose?  Wif. 
Nay, 'tis no matter, as he likes this, let him dance the shaking of the sheets another time.  Shoo. 
What sheets dame Guinevere? what dance I pray ye?  Wif. 
Marry uptails all: do you smell me now?  Shoo. 
I smell an Ass head of your own: what's all this trow?  Cris. 

Pardon me Sir.  
Unless you stand my friend,  
Alas I am but dead.   Wif. 
Dead, hang ye Rascal, hang ye; you were quick enough when you laid your Whore on her back, to take measure of her new shoes: Would you think it Husband, this young knave has got a wench with child.  Shoo. 
Hoyda, and is this the shaking of the sheets you talk of, goodwife Snipper Snapper: 'sfoot I like him the better fort: he is of your husband's trade, you old whore, and he has mettle in him: dost scold for that, hold your tongue with a pox.  Wif. 
ay, ay, one Whoremaster will take part with another still.  Shoo. 
Peace Walflit, leave gaping.  
A wench with child? 'sfoot in my my capering days I have done as much myself Sis.  Wif. 
ay, beshrew your heart for your labour.  Shoo. 

Peace Sisley, I shall sow up your lips else;  
Let me talk with my Prentice:  
Hast got a maid with child sayst?   Wife. 
A maid, marry hang her whore.  Shoo. 
Yet again, keep your Clack, I'll slit your tongue else. Speak my young Cock-Sparrow, what merry wagtail hast thou been billing with?  Cris. 

O Sir, if any but my dame and you should know it,  
I were lost for ever.   Shoo 
Mum, mum for my part Boy; and you Margery Magpie, Keep your tongue from chattering, or by the marry maskins I'll tickle your gaskins: Come, say, what Didapper was't?  Cris. 
The emperor's Daughter Sir.  Shoo. 
Who, the Princess?  Wife. 
Out upon thee Traitor.  Shoo. 
'sfoot will Bow-bell never leave ringing? will the perpetual motion of your old chaps never leave sounding? I shall beat your clapper out anon for't: Ah sirrah, go too boy, no Court-mustard serve your turn but the emperor's Daughter? This is fine i'faith.  Wife. 
he'll smoke for't I warrant him.  Shoo. 
Why Wiperginie, prating still I say? thoust drawn on her shoe handsomely by the Mass: Prithee tell me, how couldst thou being but a poor Shoemaker, climb up to a Court-bed-sted?  Wife. 
he'll climb to the Gallows for't.  Shoo. 
Why Knipperdolin, is the Devil in thee?  Cris. 

I have climbed farther Sir; she's now my Wife,  
And I have married her.   Wife. 
Hoyda.  Shoo. 
Hush madge owlet, leave hollowing.  Cris. 
That very day my Brother was pressed forth—  Wife. 
You pressed her at night, did you?  Shoo. 
Grunting still you sow-gelder?  Wife. 
Thou art a Coxcomb and a clapperdudgeon: Dost thou see now, I was never so called in my life as thou call'st me. Thou mayst be ashamed on't: this 'tis to let thy Prentices have their swing, and lie out at nights thus.  Shoo. 

Sweet Pigsney, let me entreat thy patience:  
Alas poor youth, we must needs help him.  
Why I commend him that he shoots at the fairest mark:  
What an excellent show an emperor's Daughter will make in a  
shoemaker's shop!   Wife. 

she'll spin a fair thread I warrant you:  
How will he maintain her trow ye?   Cris. 

she knew my fortunes e'er she married me,  
And now yourselves shall know them:  
I and my Brother that thus have served you like Prentices,  
Are Princes both, and Sons to Alured, late King of Britain.   Sho. 
How! my right Worshipful Prentice! Stands bare  Wife. 
Ha, is he a king's son Husband?  Shoo. 
Make curtsy to your man you whore.  Cris. 

The Emperor Maximinus slew my Father,  
And put the Queen my Mother into Prison:  
What mean you gentle Master, pray be covered.   Shoo. 

No by my faith Sir,  
You are a better man than the Master of my Company.   Cris. 

And seeing all my hopes lie dead save in herself,  
I loved, revealed myself, and married her;  
Yet I entreat you both— Nay gentle Master,  
I am your Prentice still, pray stand not bare.   Shoo. 
Well, well, for this once I will boy; now you old Jigambob, you ne'er had two such men to man you.  Wife. 
Nay truly Husband, I ever thought they were some worshipful man's sons, they were such mannerly boys still.  Cris. 

All I entreat of you, is some advice  
To get my fair Leodice from Court, and then some secret place  
Where she might be in safety till her sweet delivery,  
And then I'll dare misfortune.   Wife. 
Blessing of thy heart, I like thee well thoust such a care of thy Wife: therefore if thou couldst but steal her from the Court, and bring her hither, she should lie in, and be brought to bed at my house. and nobody know it I warrant you.  Shoo. 
I marry Tib-tattle basket, how should we do that wench?  Cris. 
That's all my care indeed, to steal her thence.  Wife. 
Come, come, leave it to me Boy, I see, a woman's wit must help at a pinch still Boy: Mark this device, and if you like it, do it, and thus it is: Soon at night thou shalt hire some friend to fire a Tree upon the Coast at Dover, as near the Beacons as can be possible, by which means the men that watch the other Beacons, seeing that in flames, and supposing some Enemy landed, will presently fire all the rest, and so on a sudden set both Court, City, and Country, and all in an uproar, in which time if you and she cannot bestir your stumps, and run both away, would you were whipped i'faith.  Shoo. 

An excellent pate to trouble the whole Commonalty;  
The plot is good i'faith Boy.   Cris. 
I like it well, and will acquaint the Princess with it.  Enter Barnaby and Raph crying. Bar. Raph. 

O Master and Dame, Dame and Master;  
O lamentable day! now or never.   Shoo 
How now Knaves, toll one Bell at once, and leave jangling.  Bar. 
O pitiful Master, intolerable Dame, I am the fore-bell, and h'as rung all in many a time and often with you Dame: but now I must wring out mine own eyes in tears, in dolour, and most doleful knells: My fellow Hugh is taken, And condemned like a Christian.  Wife. 
O horrible!  Shoo. 

Peace Bagpipe: my man Hugh condemned,  
How comes that?   Bar. 
O Master, your man Hugh is not the man you took him for; not plain Hugh, but Sir Hugh, a Knight of fame.  Shoo. 
How? a Knight of the Worshipful Company of the Cordwainers?  Bar. 

Nay, by St. Davie, he's more, he's a Welsh Prince,  
And son to the King of Powes in South Wales,  
Though he but a Shoemaker here.   Shoo. 

Passion of me, what a brood of Princes have I brought up!  
And why is my right honourable Servant to be put to death?   Bar. 
As we were going to see the Christians, he spied his old Love Queen Winifred amongst them, and at the very sight he looked as green as a leek, and so rushed in amongst them; took the Lady by the Lily-white hand, railed on the Roman gods, defied the Emperor, and swore he would die if she did.  Shoo. 
Is there no help to save him?  Raph. 
None in the World, except he leave to be a Christian.  Bar. 
'Tis true Sir, all the Sergeants and Officers that came to arrest him, pitying his case, persuaded him to be no good Christian, as they were: then there was a Broker said he would lay his soul to pawn, he could not prosper if he were a Christian; nay, the jailor cries out on him, and says, if he continue a Christian, he'll use him like a Dog.  Shoo. 

Alack the day;  
I'm sorry for my honourable boot hailer:  
Go and comfort him; I'll see him anon tell him.   Bar. 

Nay, stay sweet Master,  
'Twas never seen that a Shoemaker and his men  
Were base Bassilomions, but true bonus socius,  
Up see freeze, though we cannot get him from prison,  
I'll sell my coat from my back, ere a Shoemaker  
Shall want: Let us show ourselves cavaliers  
Or Cobblers: come every man his twelvepence  
A piece to drink with him in prison.   Shoo. 

A good motion: boon boys, fine knaves;  
I like you well when you hang together:  
Hold my brave journeymen,  
There's a double share for me.   Crisp. 
And mine with all my heart i'faith.  Wif. 
And cause he's a Knight, thou shalt have my shilling too.  Bar. 

I thank you Dame:  
Nay, we'll never leave a brother of our  
Company, as long as flesh and bones  
Will hang together.   Shoo. 

Away boys, go you before;  
Joan jumble breech your Dame and I will follow,  
Cherish him up, tell him he shall not want;  
He lives not in the world could ever say,  
A Shoemaker from his friend did flinch away. Exeunt.   Flourish: Enter Maximinus, Bassianus, Lutius, Officers; Albon and Amphiabel in their shirts, as from Torments. Max. 

Resolve me yet, you stubborn Christians,  
Cannot the several tortures which we do inflict,  
Yet melt the Iron of your hardened hearts,  
To make you bow unto our Roman gods?  
Speak, will you obey our hest?   Amph. 
None but the hests of heaven.  Alb. 

A thousand deaths have not the bitter stings  
As are the pains we have felt in torturing;  
Yet Tyrant we'll endure ten thousand more,  
And laugh in death's face, ere we our faiths give o'er.   Max. 

Renowned Albon, on thy head I'll set  
A Crown of gold.   Alb. 
To make me heaven forget: Never.  Amph. 
Never.  Max. 

Let me yet win thee foolish man:  
Remember what honours we, and Dioclesian  
Heaped upon thee: giving thee the style  
Britain's Stewardship,  
The Prince of Knights,  
Lord of Varlome.   Alb. 

And in thy Racks, thy Irons, Gibbets, and thy Wheel,  
Do I more honour, and more comfort feel,  
Than all those painted smokes by thee bestowed  
Of me: my Country may thus much boast: Albon  
Stood firm and fixed, in spite of tyrant's wrath,  
Britain's first Martyr for the Christian faith.   Max. 

But not the last:  
For to thy scorn I'll add millions of  
Christian flames, to death and tortures.   Lut. 
Dispatch these first.  Max. 

I will drag them hence in Chains to  
Helnurst Hill, three miles from Verolome,  
Where Albon's Lord, there after blows,  
And spiteful buffetings, for honour of his  
Knighthood, once held the chief,  
He shall have a Knight to be his Headsman.   Alb. 

That stroke shall well be given,  
That makes room for a soul to fly to heaven.   Max. 

This fiend Amphiabel,  
From whose damned Teat he sucked this poison,  
Shall there be bound by a fixed stake,  
To which nailed fast, the Navel of his belly  
Being opened, then with your sword prick him,  
And force him run about like a wheel,  
Till he has spun his Guts out: and that dispatched,  
Saw off his traitorous head.   Amph. 
Caesar in greater triumph ne'er was led.  Max. 
Away with them; Albon's the first shall die:  Alb. 
Thou honour'st me amidst thy tyranny: come on dear friend,  Amph, 

Eternity protect us to our end:  
Fight nobly then.   Albon. 

To my latest breath:  
I go to a wedding (friend) and not to death.   Max. 

Go drag 'em hence; this day we'll  
Quaff the blood of Christians: call forth more:  
So perish all will not our gods adore.   Enter Hugh, Winifred, and Shoemakers. Bar. 
Nay fellow Hugh, or noble Sir Hugh, remember 'tis not every man's case to die a Christian; prithee leave it then, and save thy life; the Roman gods are as good gods as e'er trod on a shoe of leather: and therefore sweet Hugh we may get their custom, and bring 'em to our shop, and so we shall be Shoemakers to the gods.  Hugh. 
You trouble me, I pray leave.  Bar. 
Leave thee, not as long as thou liv'st I'faith.  Max. 
What are all these?  Bar. 
Men that respect a Christian no more than you do, Sir you need not fear, there's not a good Christian among us.  Max. 

Honest fellows:  
Back, and give the prisoner's room.   Win. 

Come my constant friend:  
Noble Sir Hugh at last farewell join hands  
We never shall touch one another more,  
When these we sever; thou long hast  
Loved me; truer ne'er was found,  
That both in life and death keeps faith so sound:  
All that my love can give thee for thy pains  
I'll marry thee, but death must bid the banes:  
Never to wedding was such honour given,  
Our wedding dinner must be kept in heaven.   Hugh. 

At which Angels shall wait:  
Saints be our guests, our souls the wedding couple,  
And the feast joy and eternity; our bridal room  
The Hall of heaven, where hand in hand we'll come,  
Martyrs to dance a measure, which begins  
Unto the music of the Cherubins.   Max. 

Mean time, even here you both shall dance with death;  
Yet if our God's you'll serve, prolong your breath.   Hugh. 

'Tis life we seek to lose; Tyrant strike home,  
They are but walls of clay which thou beast down.   Max. 

Call a Hangman, flay that  
Villain straight, and tear that woman's  
Flesh with burning Pincers.   Win. 

We both are ready Sir,  
Yet hear me Maximinus: by all the Rites  
Of honour I conjure thee, in Law of womanhood,  
Let not my body be a villain's prey;  
But since I am a Queen and spotless Virgin,  
Let me choose my death.   Max. 

Because thou once wert daughter to a King  
Enjoy thy wish, so death may forth with strike,  
Meet him in any shape thou best shall like.   Win. 

Be sure it shall:  
Be thou the chief mourner at my funeral.  
My earthly love farewell; thy cheek I'll kiss,  
we'll meet anon within the land of bliss:  
Follow my footsteps thou shalt soon be there:  
Courage good heart, to die I cannot fear.  
I'll be the first, and teach thee how to die,  
Leading the way to sweet felicity.  
Come Tyrants launch my arm, to death I'll bleed,  
Sweet blood was shed for me, and mine I'll shed.   Max. 

Dispatch and launch her arm, but save the blood  
The which this day to holy jupiter I'll sacrifice.   Win. 

My dearest friend farewell,  
In one house shortly we'll for ever dwell.   Hugh. 

The storm of death now comes,  
Bear up brave sail.   Win. 

I feel no storm; but oven the merriest gale  
That ever life was driven with: Oh how sweet a  
Dream methinks I now am in;  
Angels do run to meet and welcome  
Me unto the Land of bliss,  
Singing I have spun a golden thread   Hugh. 
That thread of gold weave still.  Win. 
I do; farewell: make haste to meet— Dies.  Hugh. 

In faith I will, in a whole Camp of Martyrs; blessed Fate  
she's gone for ever to an angel's state.   Max. 
Dispatch him; and drag her body hence.  Hugh. 

'Tis sister to the Saints; oh give it reverence.  
Why do I linger here, my love being gone?   Bar. 
A right Shoemaker, he loves a woman.  Hugh. 

Merciful Tyrant set me on death's wings,  
That I may bear a part where my love sings  
Eternal Hymns of joy; blessed love I come, as soon  
As I can set forth out of this house of earth and clay:  
When shall this stroke be given,  
That I may mount and meet my love in heaven?   Max. 

Flay him alive:  
Yet stay, because you are so love-sick, we'll give  
You a drink to cure it: Pour into a Cup  
His sweetheart's blood, and give it us.   Hugh. 
'Tis precious Wine, holy, and good.  Max. 

And you shall quaff your fill:  
So, put in Poison, spice it well;  
There drink thy last, and sink with her to hell.   Hugh. 

Oh let me kiss this heavenly cup of all my happiness:  
Dear Love to thy blessed souls eternal goodness,  
I drink this health, filled to th' brim:  
Two hearts did never so in one stream swim,  
As thine and mine shall now; and though thy blood  
Be poisoned, this our loves keeps firm and good.  
My Country men and fellow Shoemakers,  
As of my best of friends I take my leave:  
We many times together have drunk healths,  
But none like this: yet I'll begin to you all;  
But here you shall not pledge me.   Bar. 
Yes, and 'twere Aquavitae we would pledge thee.  Hugh. 

The love which I so found in you,  
Even in my latest hour, I'll not forget,  
But to you all begin my lasting love,  
Never did fair society of men more please me: you are a trade  
Of fellowships best mixture, nobly made.   Bar. 
We are Shoemakers, and so.  Hugh. 

My being amongst you, thus shall you prefer,  
To say a Prince was once a Shoemaker.  
For which you now shall raise your skill aloft,  
And be called gentlemen of the Gentle craft.   Bar. 
Oh noble Sir, Hugh.  Hugh. 

Could I give Indian Mines, they all were yours;  
But I have nought to give, nor ought to take,  
But this my farewell; therefore for my sake,  
When Death has seized my flesh,  
Take you my bones, which I bequeath  
Amongst you to be buried.   Bar. 
Take no care for thy winding sheet, sweet Hugh, for never was gentleman of the Gentle craft so buried as thou shouldst be, if thou hadst drunk thy last.  Hugh. 

Now trouble me no more:  
Upon this stage of death I set my foot to all farewell,  
Angels shall clap their wings to ring my knell,  
And bid me welcome to the land of rest,  
Where my immortal love lives ever blessed:  
A health dear soul I'll drink to thee: so, so,  
How soon he fades, that now so fresh did grow!  
Fly up my soul to heaven, my sins sink to the earth;  
Thus do I seal my holy Christian faith.   Ralph. 
O noble Sir Hugh, oh lamentable Hearing.  Max. 

Convey that other body hence, and give it  
burial as befits her state: for this, bestow  
It on these shoemakers, as he bequeathed it.   Bar. 

No Shoemakers now Sir, but the gentle Craft  
Shall see it buried in state and pomp.   Max. 

Use your own pleasures; where's Bassianus?  
How chanced our Daughter, bright Leodice,  
Came not to see these slaughtered Christians?   Bas. 
she keeps her Chamber Sir.  Max. 

Is she not well? let her be kept with care,  
And to the gods of Rome these Trophies rear. Flourish, exit Maxim.   Bar. 
Well my Masters, I could find in my heart to rail upon this Emperor Mr. Minus, but that I doubt he'll make us all die like Christians, and that he shall never do as long as we live I warrant him.  Raph. 
we'll watch him for that i'faith.  Bar. 
So let him pass then, and let us lay our synodical heads together, to know what shall become of Sir Hugh.  Raph. 
Let's all join together, and bury him.  Bar. 
How like a Christian thou talk'st: what before he be cold? than we should use him as many rich heirs desire to use their fathers: No, because he was a Prince, and did such honour to our Trade, we'll bury him like a Prince and a Shoemaker.  All. 
Agreed, agreed.  Bar. 
You know he gave us the name of the Gentle Craft, and if we should give him an ill word now, 'twere a shame i'faith.  Raph. 
That's true; how shall we do then to honour him?  Bar. 
Marry thus fellow-gentlemen, of my fellow Hugh's making, to requite his kindness, because he died a Christian, he shall no more be called Sir Hugh, but St. Hugh, and the Saint for ever of all the Shoemakers in England.  All. 

O brave, brave Barnaby: St. George for England,  
And St. Hugh for the Shoemakers.   Bar. 
An you be Gentlemen, hear me: you know beside, h'as given his bones amongst us. Now you must not think as if a Butcher had given us a dozen of maribones to be picked.  All. 
Well, well, how then?  Bar. 
Marry thus; in memory of his gift, all our working-tools, from this time for ever, shall be called St. Hugh's bones.  All. 
Brave, brave, that shall stand for ever i'faith.  Raph. 
ay, but which of our tools shall we call so?  Bar. 
Marry even all fellow Raph, all the tools we work with: as for example, the Drawer, Dresser, Wedges, Heel-block, hand and thumb-leathers, Shoe-thrids, Pincers, pricking-awl, and a rubbing-stone, awl, Steel, and Tacks, Shoe-hairs, and Stirrups, whetstone, and stopping-stick, Apron, and Paring-knife, all these are Sir Hugh's bones. Now sir, whatsoever he be, that is a Gentleman of the Gentle Craft, and has not all these at his finger's ends, to reckon them up in Rhyme, shall presently up with him, and strappado his bum.  All. 
An everlasting Law renowned Barnaby.  Bar. 
Nay, hear me sing like a Swan, or a souter: Furthermore, if any Journeyman shall travel without these tools, now called St. Hugh's bones, at his back, and cannot slash, cut, and crack coxcombs, with brave Sword and Buckler, long sword, and quarterstaff, sound a Trumpet, or play o'th' Flute, 'or bear his part in a three man's Song, he shall forfeit a Gallon of wine, and be counted a Colt as long as his shoes are made of running leather: Speak, is't agreed on?  All. 
Agreed, agreed, agreed.  Bar. 
we'll take up the body then.  Raph. 
I'll have a leg of him.  1. 
And I another.  2. 
And I another.  3. 
And Ilo help thee Raph.  Bar. 
With reverence and with silence then: For as we have made these Laws in remembrance of him, so it shall not be a miss to make it the sweeter, to reckon up our tools, and put them in meeter, and instead of a dirge, I think it fit time and reason to reckon Sir Hugh's bones in Rhyme:  

The Drawer first, and then the Dresser,  
Wedges and Heel-blocks, greater and lesser;  
Yet 'tis not worth two Ganders feathers,  
Unless you have the hand and thumb-leathers:  
Then comes your short-heels, Needle, and Thimble,  
With Pincers and pricking awl, so neat and nimble:  
Rubbing-stone next, with awl, Steel, and Tacks,  
Which often will hold when the shoe-leather cracks:  
Then Stirrup, stopping-stick, with good Sow-haires,  
Whetstone, and cutting-knife which sharply pares;  
And lastly, to clap Saint Hugh's bones in  
An Apron that's made of a jolly sheep's skin,  
And thus to all Shoemakers we bid adieu,  
With triumph to bury the famous St. Hugh. Exeunt.    

ACTVS QVINTUS.  A cry within, arm, arm, arm; then enter a sort of Country people at several doors. All. 
Arm, arm, arm; what shall we do neighbours?  1. 
The Beacons are on fire, and my heart freezes in my belly.  2. 

They are fired round about us, and all the Country in an uproar;  
My very nose drops with fear.   3. 

If our Enemies find us in these cold sweats,  
We are all sure to go to th' pot for't.   4. 

Therefore let's go to th' pot first;  
For when the drink's in, the Wit's out:  
And when the wit is out, we shall fight like mad men.   1. 
Content, and as we go, let's raise the Country.  All. 
Arm, arm, arm.  Enter Bassianus and Latius. Bas. 

What Alarum's this?  
Why cry ye so like mad men?   1. 
Because we have no weapons in our hands Sir.  Lut. 
Why are the Beacons fired?  2. 

We are all afraid to think on't;  
They say the Enemy is landed Sir.   Bas. 

Stand you here like sheep,  
When danger beats so rudely at your doors?   4. 

There let 'em beat, he shall not be let in for me.  
The Enemies are landed men, and therefore we'll go by water:  
Come neighbours.   Within. 
Arm, arm, arm.  Lut. 

The cry is still raised, let's put the Court in Arms,  
And certify the Emperor.   Bas. 

With all the speed that may be,  
Arm, arm, arm Exeunt Bassian. & Lut.   2. 

Let us be wise neighbours,  
And whilst they cry Arms, Exeunt Neighbours, the cry continued.  
Let us cry legs, and trust unto our heels.   Enter Crispine and Leodice. Cris. 

The stratagem takes rarely, come fair Leodice,  
This tumult in the Court gives means to fly.   Leod. 
Thus folded in thine Arms I wish to die.  Cris. 

Talk not of Death, live, and be blessed for ever,  
No frown of Fate two faithful hearts can fever. Exeunt.   Within. 
Arm, arm, arm.  Enter Emperor and Lords with weapons drawn. Max. 

My Horse and Armour villains:  
High Jupiter protect us; what neglect is this,  
The Beacons fired, and a whole Land asleep,  
When Foes come armed in Thunder?  
Guard the Court, see to our daughter's safety,  
I fear these sudden tumults have disturbed her. Enter Shoemakers with staves.   All. 
Arm, arm, arm.  Bar. 
An you be men, show yourselves so.  Max. 
Why d''ee cry thus? say, whither run ye?  Bar. 

Out of our wits I think Sir;  
The Beacons all along the Sea-coast burn most horribly.   Max. 
And what's the cause on't?  Bar. 

Because they are afire Sir: Ten thousand Kentish men  
Which woeful tail's to tell, are knocked down like sheep Sir:  
The Enemy is landed at Sandwich, set ashore at Dover,  
And arrived at Rumny Marsh: hark, I hear the Drums already. A low march.   Max. 

I am amazed, what Drum is this?  
Stand on your guard.   Bar. 

I would your Guard were here for us to stand upon,  
That we might reach the further: Come, fear nothing Sir;  
Let your Lords and you stand by, and see  
How we Shoemakers will thrash 'em.   Enter Crispianus with Drum and Soldiers richly attired. Cris. 
Health to the Emperor from the Roman State.  Bas. 
These are our Britain friends, new come from France.  Max. 

Whom at your landing saw you up in Arms,  
That fright the Country thus?   Cris. 

None my good Lord, not any;  
From France and Dioclesian thus I bring  
These Britain Soldiers back triumphant home:  
The black storm there is laid, and sure these fears  
That bring these homebred terrors, all are false:  
And as I guess, the firing of the Beacons,  
Was at the fight of Dioclesian's Fleet,  
That with himself now rides in Dover-rode,  
And is by this on shore: and how in France the die of War hath run  
His Majesty in these Imperial Letters certifies.   Max. 

Thanks for thy news,  
we'll read them straight.   Bar. 
By St. Hugh bones we were all afraid of our own shadows, we shall have no cussing now I see. Enter Lutius.  Max. 
What news brings Lutius?  Lut. 

Comfort my Lord, the error's found;  
The sudden fire that kindled all this fear,  
Is now quenched out; the cloud that threatened storms,  
Is turned to drops of heat: some knavish fellow  
Hard by the Sea-coast set a Tree on fire,  
Which seen, men thought that Dover Beacon flamed,  
And so fired all the rest, and raised the Alarum.   Max. 

I am glad it is no worse; run Bassianus,  
And sing this comfort to our daughter's ears,   Bas. 
I shall my Lord. Exit Bas.  Max. 

These Letters of your noble Victories  
Are as yourself most welcome, on whose head  
Our brother Dioclesian lays the glory of the  
Conquest o'er the Vandals and the Goths:  
He writes, he gave unto thy manly Thigh  
The sword of Knighthood, wishing us to add more  
Honours on thee, which at his arrival,  
His, and our hand shall do with royal bounty.   Cris. 
I am your lowly Vassal, royal Sovereign,  Bar. 

Dost hear fellow Ralph,  
methinks I should know this Captain;  
He looks as like Crispianus as can be?   Enter Bassianus. Max. 
Now Bassianus, speak, how fares our daughter?  Bas. 

Alas my Lord, the Court is all in mourning,  
The Princess with this sudden fear  
Is fled the Court, not to be found by any.   Max. 
Not to be found, why where's her Nurse?  Enter Nurse. Bas. 
See here she comes.  Max. 
Speak doting Beldame; where's my daughter.  Nur. 

Fie, fie, fie, I have not so much wit left  
As to tell ye where I am myself, O my side,  
Pray let me breathe a little;  
When this hurly-burly began i'th' Court,  
She ran, and I ran; she hailed, and I pulled;  
She cried, and I roared; but her fear being  
Stronger than my old bones, away whipped she  
Out at the Court-gates, and I fell in a found,  
Stark dead i'faith; had not a Gentleman Usher  
Come by and clapped me soundly, I'd been  
Past telling Tales by this time. Oh my Back.   Max. 

Oh dismal chance  
Search every room; This dismal clamour  
May so fear her blood, that death may  
Seize her haste: if in the Court you miss her;  
See't proclaimed, that whosoever brings me  
Her alive, goes laden with rewards;  
If nobly borne, we give her him to wife:  
Make haste, slip not an hour,  
While I set on to meet the Emperor. Exit.   Bar. 

I say 'tis he; I'll speak to him whate'er come on't.  
Crispianus?   Crisp. 
My honest fellow Barnaby!  Bar. 
O Rumps and Kidneys, did not I tell you so?  Ralph. 
Honest Crispianus, welcome from France.  Crisp. 
I thank you: how does my Master?  Bar. 

In health, and brave as Holly:  
So art thou methinks.   Crisp. 
The fortune of the wars: is my Dame well too?  Bar. 
The old wench still: she keeps the mark in her mouth  Crisp. 
And how does my brother Crispin?  Bar. 

Oh he is the foreman of the shop since you went  
Nay, we have news to tell thee anon when we are  
Drinking; we have given o'er the shoemaker's  
Cloaks now, and are become Gentlemen  
Of the Gentle Craft, and all our working  
Tools are called Saint Hugh's bones.   Crisp. 
That's excellent.  Enter Shoemaker. Shooe. 

How now my tall trencher men,  
What make you amongst Courtiers?  
What my Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, virorum,  
The Basseius manus, my noble Crispianus:  
And how does the brave monsieurs in France,  
My brave Shevaleere? As I am a Gentleman  
Of the Gentle Craft, thou art welcome.   Crisp. 
I thank your love and kindness Sir.  Shooe. 

Away my strong Beer drinkers;  
There's a Noble in English, go drink a health  
To Saint Hugh's Bones; I must have  
Some speech in private, and enter parley  
With my Man of War.   Bar. 

As long as this Drum will strike,  
we'll fight it out with pike and pot:  
we'll drink a health to you both Master. Exit.   Shoo. 

Away my fine leather sellers,  
Shrink awhile i'th' wetting; whilst thus  
I salute my right worshipful Cordwainer:  
For I hear say the Knightly Dub  
Has been laid on thy shoulders.   Crisp. 
It pleased the Emperor so to honour me.  Shoo. 

He honours me and all my company by it;  
By Saint Hugh's Bones thou shalt take the  
Wall of thy Master now i'faith boy.   Crisp. 
The Wall, not so Sir.  Shoo. 

And the Kennel too by the spreech-awls  
Nay Sir, I know more than you think I do:  
Your Brother has song the three man's song,  
And told all i'faith: you were  
Once my Princely Prentice.   Crisp. 

Sir If my brother has disclosed  
To you our Births, I do conjure you,  
As my dearest friend, for to conceal it.   Shoo. 

Mum, mum boys',  
As close as my Currier and I in a Tavern  
On a Monday morning: tut, my Princely  
Prentice, thy brother knows that I am leather  
That will hold all waters when he trusts  
Me with a secret: Hark in thine ear boy,  
Has got a Wench with child byth' mass.   Crisp. 
How, a wench with child?  Shoo. 

Yes, and a great one too:  
No less than the emperor's daughter,  
And she's as big as she can tumble:  
Has entered the best Chamber i'th' Court,  
Has tickled her shoe-sole for a girl or a boy  
By this time; and hark once more,  
She lies in at my house too, but mum; no more words boy.   Crisp. 

Pray heaven you catch no hurt by it,  
For the Emperor sends forth wondrous search to find her.   Shoo. 

No matter,  
She shall be welcome home whene'er she comes,  
I hope she's delivered too by this time,  
For I heard such a Caterwauling,  
And my wife stirs up and down that she stinks:  
Nay more, the Beacons were fired on purpose  
To steal her from Court, and only  
By the knavery and policy of  
Gillian Ginger-taile my wife.   Crisp. 

The accident is strange;  
See, here comes my Dame and Brother.   Enter Crispinus, and shoemaker's wife with a child. Shooe. 

God's me she's delivered:  
Ha boy, art come? come hither Crispin,  
Know ye this Shevaleere?   Crisp. 
My dearest Brother.  Crispian. 

I am glad to see you:  
I hear strange news brother.   Crisp. 

If from my Master Sir the news did come,  
'tis true, and I'll with life maintain.   Shoo. 

Look here old Sis,  
Your other Prentice is come.   Crispian. 
My gentle Dame.  Wife. 

Sweet Crispianus, welcome home from the wars;  
Nay sir, your brother has been in Arms too:  
Do you you see what exploits has done?   Shoo. 
Is't a boy wife?  Wife. 

A boy I'm sure,  
Has a Purse and two pence in't:  
Nay come Sir, you shall kiss your kinsman:  
Here's his Father's own nose i'faith.   Crispian. 

A Princely babe,  
The eye of Heaven look on thee,  
And mayst thou spread like to the  
Bay Tree, which the whole year springs,  
And through this land plant a whole race of Kings.   Crisp. 

Nor shall he scorn,  
Till that race be run,  
To call himself a Prince,  
Yet a shoemaker's son.   Shoo. 

Of the Britons' blood, Royal i'faith boys':  
Let no man therefore henceforth take it scorn,  
To say a shoemaker's Son was a Prince borne.   Crispian. 

Good Fate succeed it:  
Brother my Master hath told all your strange proceedings:  
Have you heard of the Proclamations?   Crisp. 

Yes, and mean ere long  
To use it for my profit.   Crispian. 

Till when, muff this Son  
In some dark Cloud, whilst I at Court  
Wait on the Emperor, that's gone to  
Meet great Dioclesian; Fortune  
May turn her Wheel, and we  
May stand as erst we did,  
And with our own beams shine.   Crisp. 
Play you your game at Court, the next tricks mine.  Shoo. 

And by Saint Hugh,  
Though I neither shuffle nor cut,  
I'll hold Cards too.   Wife. 
And I'll not fit out, though I turn up Noddy.  Crispia. 
Work wisely then, and part.  Shoo. 

Do so till time ripen, which being known,  
A shoemaker's subtle wit shall then be shown. Exeunt.   Trumpets sound: Enter Dioclesian, Maximinus, Bassianus, Latius, with Drum and Colours. Max. 

Great Dioclesian, our renowned Brother,  
In France your happy and triumphant deeds  
We here in Britain thus congratulate:  
The Vandal and the Goth we hear, have paid  
The price at full for daring insolence.   Diocl. 

Even with their bloods they have:  
Their daring and their downfalls fill one grave,  
And yet our Conquest had not spread such wings  
But for those Britain forces you sent o'er:  
They from the French Field plucked the noblest Flower,  
And of them all, a Soldier too, whose Fame  
I cannot sing too much, carried the name  
Of Honour from us all: his good sword flew like Lightning,  
And where it went, o'erthrew: the King of Goths  
Called me his prisoner, but then this brave Opponent  
Fetched me off in ransom with his blood, and that being done,  
He like a Lion on the Vandal run:  
Took him, and closed the battle in his fall,  
The work was bloody, rough, and Tragical;  
And therefore for my love pray crown his head  
That twice saved mine: It is a man, whose Fate  
Upheld the glory of the Roman State.   Max. 

The man you sent, and praise so Royal Sir,  
Shall ever live within our Princely favour;  
One call the Captain hither.   Bas. 
Here he comes. Enter Crispianus.  Max. 

Brave Soldier, your high spoken merit  
Breathed from an emperor's love, claims due regard  
From his and our hands: cast therefore but your eye  
On all the Kingdom, what you can espy to please you,  
Ask, and take it.   Diocl. 

Which we'll confirm brave Crispianus,  
Make thy princely boon worthy thy fame,  
And such as may beseem great Maximinus and Dioclesian,  
The Masters of the triple world, to give,  
And by our gods thou shalt the same receive.   Cris. 

I humbly thank my Lords;  
I'll ask no Gold, nor Lands, nor Offices; but thus high,  
To beg a prisoner's life and liberty.   Max. 
A prisoner noble Sir, what is he?  Crisp. 

'Tis a sad Queen, my Mother Royal Sir,  
Imprisoned by your Grace at Rochester.   Max. 
King Allured's Queen thy Mother?  Cris. 

Yes my good Lord, my Kingly Father slain,  
I and my brother did disguised remain,  
Till I was pressed for France.   Diocl. 

This wonder doth amaze me:  
Is Crispianus then a king's son found?  
'Twas voiced abroad, thou and thy brother died in the battle.   Cris. 

Fame speaks not always troth: I live,  
But of my brother what's become, as yet I have not heard.   Max. 

Thou here shalt live right dear in our regard;  
Lutius by this our Signet free the Queen from Prison,  
And give her knowledge of her Princely son:  
O were our Daughter found, so much I love thee,  
Thou shouldst enjoy my bright Leodice.   Diocl. 

We thank our Brother's love to grace our friend,  
For to his worth we can no gift extend.   Max. 
What shouts are these? Look out. A shout within: Enter Nurse.  Nurs. 
Out of my way Sir: oh my heart!  Max. 
Why what's the matter?  Nurs. 

The matter say ye? pray let me gape a little;  
I was out of my wits before with fear, and now for joy.  
Oh my heart, I think in my conscience I have not so much wind left in my belly as will blow out a Candle:  
The Princess, the Princess Sir.   Max. 

Ha? my Daughter?  
Say, where is she?   Nurs. 

O my sweet Lambkin's found,  
And come to Court too.   Max. 
Where? who found her?  Nurs. 

A pretty handsome stripling by my holidame;  
Her own Shoemaker belike, poor duckling:  
She was wandering, and he met with her;  
And belike she had worn out her shoes, and he fitted her finely:  
So drew on her shoes first, and drew her to Court after;  
And he and all the Company of the Gentle Craft Sir,  
Brings her home most sumptuously.   Max. 

With Music's sweetest strains conduct 'em in,  
Our sorrows wither, as our joys begin.   Music: Enter Shoemaker, and other in their Liveries, then Leodice and Wife with the Child: Crispine bareheaded before, Barnaby and the rest after: Leodice kneels, and Maximinus embraceth her. Max. 

Life cannot be more welcome; which is he  
Doubles my joys in my Leodice?   Nurs. 

This is the youth that doubles 'em:  
O my sweet Honey-suckle, have I found thee again?   Max. 

I'll treble his rewards for finding her:  
And to be sure my Daughter, not to lose thee more,  
Great Emperor see  
To do all honour unto this Prince, and thee,  
I give my only daughter for his wife.   Leod. 
His wife my Lord?  Max. 

By my Daughter:  
Though a stranger to thee, he's a Prince borne,  
Son to a King, and well deserves thy love.   Leod. 

Here's one deserves it more, he saved my life  
When I was almost dead with grief;  
These can witness it.   Bar. 

'Tis very true Sir; when she was the lost sheep,  
He was the Shepherd that found her;  
When she was a cold, he covered her;  
Nay more, when she was hungry, he filled her belly:   Wif. 
Here's one, if it could speak, would be a witness to that.  Leod. 

And by the Proclamation, yourself are bound  
To let this young man marry me:  
I'll swear I'll wed with none, except this Shoemaker.   Max. 

Sure her sudden fright hath made her mad:  
Was she not frantic when thou foundst her first?  
Nay, she's mad still; how dare you stand this scorn?  
This is a Prince, that but a beggar borne.   Leod. 

A Beggar? look on this Babe:  
'Tis his own; 'tis Princely borne,  
And a shoemaker's son.   Max. 
Fond Girl.  Leod. 

Good Father hear,  
You know not what brave men these shoemakers are.   Bar. 
'Tis known we can get Children Sir.  Max. 
How am I vexed with fools and mad men!  Leod. 

I do beseech you Sir, my Royal Father,  
Take this lovely Child to kiss, and bless it.   Max. 

Defend me jupiter, she's mad,  
Stark mad.   Diocl. 

Why does the fair Leodice  
So vex her Kingly Father  
With so base a brat?   Cris. 
'Zounds base?  Shoe. 

Peace knave, peace:  
What wilt thou do?   Leod. 

Base Brat?  
Alas, had the poor fool a tongue or power to speak,  
he'd swear you did him wrong:  
By all our gods it is as nobly borne  
As the proudest here.   Max. 

Strange frenzy,  
Why does my Daughter so dishonour me?   Leod. 

I take but this poor Child's part, and so should you:  
For look you Father, this base Brats Mother  
Lay in my Mother's belly; were she alive,  
She would acknowledge it, and comfort give,  
And it shall call you grandsire if it live.   Max. 

Here's strange and dark enigmas,  
Speak plain, whose Child is't?   Leod. 
This shoemakers.  Max. 

And yours?  
'Slife he has lain with her,  
she's his Whore; attach the Villain,  
Tortures shall force his baseness to confess it.   Cris. 

Most Royal Sovereign,  
Suffer not wrath to kindle in your bosom,  
His baseness and mine run even in one stream:  
It is my brother, Princes by birth, the King of Britain's sons;  
Our names Eldred and Offa; for these names  
Of Crispin and Crispianus we but borrowed  
To keep our lives in safety.   Max. 
Can this be true?  Leod. 

Father it is, and this long since I knew,  
Loved, and then married, a twelvemonth since:  
This token, could it speak, would tell you all.   Max. 

Whom Heaven would save from danger, ne'er can fall.  
My blessing compass both:  
Nurse, what say you to this?   Nurs. 
Nay, I was asleep when 'twas done i'faith.  Diocl. 
she winked a purpose. Enter Queen.  Lut. 
The Queen my Lord.  Max. 

Most welcome, and most wished for,  
Royal Princess, your fetters off,  
Imprisonment we here take off,  
Go, embrace your sons.   Quee. 
O my dear sons!  Max. 

With them receive your Daughter  
To your love: Wonders hath fall'n  
Since you have a Prisoner been;  
You, and your Sons, and we are grown a kin.   Quee. 

Fame spread abroad the wonder,  
And the fame of our dread Lords the  
Emperors, which in stead of death  
Hath given an happy passage to our lives.  
But Royal Sir, should I forget this shoemaker,  
We break a bond, wherein we all stand bound:  
My sons of you hath loving parents' found.   Shoo. 

Faith Madam,  
I did the best I could for 'em:  
I have seen one married to the emperor's daughter.   Bar. 
Would you had married me no worse.  Max. 

You all have done your best  
To make our comforts full: for which we'll pay  
Rewards to all, and crown this happy day.   Bar. 
we have a boon my Lord the Emperor.  Max. 
What is't?  Bar. 

That seeing these two Princes,  
Fellow servants with us, being of the Gentle Craft,  
May have one Holiday to ourselves.   Max. 
What Month would you have it kept in?  Bar. 

The five and twentieth of October,  
That none of our Trade may go to bed sober.   Max. 

Take it:  
These lines of Fate thus in one circle met,  
If Dioclesian please shall here close up.   Dioc. 
In what circumference?  Max. 

Thus; 'tis more honour to make Kings,  
Than be such: then let these twain,  
Being English borne, be Britain Kings again.  
This in the North shall rule.   Dioc. 

This in the South:  
Brave Crispianus, to requite thy deed,  
Great Dioclesian's hand shall Crown thy head. A Crown presented,   Max. 

To Crispin this:  
And this rich gift beside;  
The fair Leodice to be his Bride.   Crisp. 
I have an humble suit unto your Highness.  Max. 
What is't my Son?  Crisp. 

'Tis this;  
A Church then, and a beauteous Monastery  
On Holmhurst-Hill, where Albon lost his head,  
Offa shall build; which I'll St. Albon's name,  
In honour of our first English martyr's fame.   Max. 

Build what Religious Monuments you please,  
Be true to Rome, none shall disturb your peace.  
Set forward Princes, Fortune's Wheel turns round;  
We Kingdoms lose, you the same hour sit Crowned.  
And thus about the World she spreads her wings,  
To ruin, of raise up the Thrones of Kings.   
FINIS.