JANE SHORE

Well my Lord Mayor I thank you for that flout, But let his Highness now come when he please, All things are in a perfect readiness. So my Lord think I, But by Gods help he will be well again. Sir boy, while I attend the shop my self, See if the workman have dispatched the Cup, How many ounces weighs it: What said the Gentleman to the fashiou? Go sir make hast, your M. is in Cheapeside: Take h worser you were best your loitering be not spied. Sir it is right that will I warrant ye, No Jeweller in London shows a better. Do no, if some Lapidary had the ne, more would not buy it then I can demand. 'Tis as well set I think as ere ye saw. You are disposed to jest, but for valve, his Maiestis might wear it. Sir 'tis the ring I mean. You are a merry man, I see you come to cheap, and not to buy. Perhaps in buying things of so small valve? The gift so small, that askte, who could deny it? His hap is ill, should it be as you say, That having given him what you rate so high, And yet is still the poorer by the match. Yet having had the use of it so long, It rather proves you over rate the thing, He being a chapman, as it seems you are. If Kings love that, which no man else respects, It may be so, else do I see small reason, A King should take delight in such course stuff. In conceit, right well you ask that question. The world I think contains not such found king. Its proudly spoke, although I not believe it, Were he King Edward that should offer it. Upon what acquaintance? I have forgotten that I saw you there, For there were many that I took small note of. You are deceived Sir, I had then no time, For my attendance on his majesty. Now I beseech you let this strange disguise Excuse my boldness to your majesty. What ever we possess is all your highness, Only mine honour, which I cannot grant, Indeed you offer Like a Gentleman, But yet the jewel will not so be left. Not I sweet heart, alas why do you ask? Is he thine enemy? This Jewel love. Why who is it? I do suspect him Shore. That you demand thus doubtedly of me. Indeed I cannot sir, I pray you Deal with my husband, hear what he will say. Trust me, nor sick, nor well, but troubled still with the disease I told the: here is another le er from the King, was never poor soul so importuned. No mistress Blage, no answer will sustize, He, he it is, that with a violent siege Labours to break into my plighted faith, O what am I, he should so much forget His royal State, and his high majesty? Still does he come disguised to my house, And in most humble terms be wrays his love, My husband grieves, alas how can he choose, Fearing the dispossessement of his Jane? And when he cannot come (for him) he writes, Offering beside incomparable gifts, And all to win me to his princely will. Then counsel me what I were best to do. Alas I know that I was bound by oath, To keep the promise that I made at first, And virtue lives, when pomp consumes to dust. Here do I live, although in mean estate, Yet with a conscience free from all debate, Where higher footing may in time procure, A sudden fallen, and mix my sweet with sour. O God it is the King. Good mistress Blague withdraw you from this place, O come anon, so soon as he is gone, And sirrah get you to the shop again. The more the pity, that within the sky, The sun that should all other vapours dry, And guide the world with his most glorious light Is muffled up himself in full night. I may not wander, he that guides my car, Is and im nooued, constant, fixed star, How if the host of heaven at this abuse Kepine? who can the prodig e excuse? If you enforce me, I have nought to say, But wish I had not lived to see this day. Well I will in, and ere the time begin, Learn how to be repentant for my sin. What is thy name? There is his pardon signed by the King. What think you, that I buy & fell for bribes, His highness favour, or his subjects blood? No, without gifts God grant I may do good, For all my good cannot redeem my ill, Yet to do good I willendeauour still. The King is content your goods shall be restored, But the officers will hardly yield thereto, Yet been content, isle see you have no wrong. Your suit my friend, requires a longer time, Yet since you dwell so far off, to ease your charge, Your diet with my sir ants you may take, And some relief isle get thee of the King. O, 'tis for a licence to transport corn from this land. and led to foreign Realms, I had your bil, but I have torn your bill, and tware no shame I think, to tear your ears, that care not how you wound the commonwealth. The poor must starve for food to fill your purse. And the enemy bandy bullets of our led. No master Rufford, isle not speak for you, except it be to have you punished. Is that another suitor? I have no bill of his, Go one of you, and know what he would have. O God it is my husband, kind Matthew Shore. I must confess I yielded up the Fort, Wherein lay all the riches of my y, But yet sweet Shore, before I yielded it, did endure the longest and greatest siege, That ever battered on poor chastity, And but to him that did a ault the same, For ever it had been invincible, But I will yield it back again to thee. He cannot blame me, though it be so done, To lose by me, what first by me was won. I will refuse the pleasures f the Court, Let me go with thee Shore, though not as a wife, Yet as thy slave, since I have lost that name, I will redeem the wrong that I have done thee, With my true service, if thou wilt accept it. I think upon the horror of the tune, But tell me why you fought so desperately? Of me sweet heart? why how should I be lost? Were I by thousand storms of fortune tossed? And should endure the poorest wretched life, Yet Jane will be thy honest loyal wife, The greatest Prince the sun did ever see, Shall never make me prove vntruc to thee: These hands shall make this body a dead corpse, re force or flattery shall mine honour stain, Friend tell my Lord he does my husband wrong, To set him foremost in the danger still, You shall not go if I may have my will, I faith you shall not, prithee do not go. If you be slain, what shall become of Me? Marry again. that word my heart does wound, I'll never marry, nor I will not live, If thou be killed, let me go with Thee Mat. To partly from thee my very heart does bleed. My gracious L. my poor & humble thoughts, Near had and eye to such unworthiness, And though some hold it as a maxim, That women's minds by nature do aspire, Yet how both God and M. Shore I thank For my continuance in this humble state, And likewise how I love your Majesty: For gracious sufferance that it may be so: Heaven bear true record of my inward soul: Now it remains, on my Lord Majors behalf, I do such duty as becomes me, To bid your Highness welcome to his house, Were welcomes virtue powerful in my word, The King of England should not doubt thereof. What would you buy sir that you look on here? But here comes one, to whom I only gave it. And he I doubt will say you shall not have it. Indeed I cannot sir afford it so. The king? what then? is't for that thou sighest? Were he a thousand kings thou hast no cause To fear his presence, or suspect my lout. You are deceiude (sweet heart) 'tis not the king, Think you he would adventure thus alone? I pray Thee come, sweet love, and fit by me, No king thats under heaven I love Like thee. O that I knew which were the best of twain, Which for I do not, I am sick with pain. How now sir boy, what is the news with you? Most welcome to your subjects homely roof, The foot my Sovereign, seldom does offend, Unless the heart some other hurt intend. Why then sweet Mat. let me entreat Thee stay, What is't with Edward that I cannot do? I'll make thee wealthier then ere Richard was, That entertained the three greatest kings in Europe, And feasted them in London on a day Ask what thou wilt, were it a million, That may content Thee, thou shalt have it Shore. Ah Shore farewell, poor heart in death isle tell, I ever loud Thee Shore, farewell, farewell. I am not sad now you are here with me, My toy, my hope, my comfort, and my love, My dear, dear husband, kindest Matthew shore, But when these arms the circles of my soul, Were in the fight so forward as I herd, How could I choose, sweet heart, but be afraid? May it please your Highness fit. He were too found, that would so highly prize, The thing which once was given away for love. Why lookest thou Mat? knowest thou the ? Alas what ails Thee that thou lookest so pale? What there sweet heart? alas, where hast thou been? Where was that?