M^r. hinchloe, I have harde fyve shetes of a playe of the Conquest of the Indes, & I dow not doute but It will be a verye good playe: tharefore I praye ye delyver them fortye shyllynges In earneste of It, & take the papers Into yo^r one hands, & on easter eve thaye promyse to make an ende of all the Reste. Samuel Rowley.

lent the 4 of Ap^rell 1601—xxxx⁸.

R. of Mr. Henslowe & Mr. Alleyn, the i day of Janewary 1601, for i qters Rent dewe unto my M^r,

M^r. Doryngton, for the commisyon for the Beargarden the some of tenne pownds^{1 note} by me Richard lefwicke, I say R. xlb. Richard [ ] lefwicks marck.

M^r. Hynchlye I praye ye dow so muche for us If Ihon Daye & wyll haughton have reseved but thre pounde ten shyllynges, as to delyver them thurtye shyllynges more, & take thare parers. yo^rs. to comande, Samuell Rowlye.

M^r. Hinchlowe I pray let me intreate yo^u to lende me forty shillings till the next weke and Ile then paye it yo^u agayne by the grace of god, I pray as yo^u love me fayle me not: here is one at home must receave it presently. if yo^u will doe me this favour, yo^u shall comaunde me in a greater matter. yo^rs. Will. Birde.

feched by William felle, his man.

M^r Henchlowe, I pray ye delyver the Reste of the Monye to John daye & wyll hawton dew to them of the syx yemen of the weste. Samuell Rowlye.

I have occasion to be absent ^note about the plott of the Indyes, therefore pray delyver it to will hawton . . . . by me John Daye.

M^r Henslowe, we have heard their booke and lyke y^t. their price is eight pounds, w^eh I pray pay now to M^r. Wilson according to our promyse. I would have come my selfe, but that I am trobled with a scytation. Yo^rs Robt. Shaa.
[Nov. 1599.]

On the back of this paper:

1. Sci. W. Wor. & Ansell, & to them the ploughmen.

2. Sci. Richard & Eliza. Catesbie, Lovell, Rice ap Tho. Blount, Banester.

3. Sci. Ansell Davye Denys, Hen. Oxf. Courtney Bou'ttner, & Grace.

4. Sci. To them Rice ap Tho. & his Soldiers.

5. Sci. K. Rich. Catesb. Lovell, Norf. Northumb. Percye.

M^r. hynchla, I praye ye let M^r hathwaye have his papars a gayne of the playe of John a gante, & for the Repayemente of the monye back a gayne he ys contente to gyve ye a byll of his hande to be payde at some cartayne tyme as In yo^r dyscressyon yow shall thinke good, w^ch done ye may crose It oute of yo^r boouke & keepe the byll, or else wele stande so muche indetted to you & keepe the byll o^r selves. Samuell Rowley.

I pray you M^r. Henshloue deliver in behalfe of the Company, unto the fifty Shillings w^ch they receaved the other day, three pounds & tenn shillings more, in full payment of six pounds the pryce of their play called To Good to be True. Yo^rs Robt. Shaa.

The xxiii^th Daye of october 1601.

Receved of Phillipe Henslowe Esquire the some of ixs. viid. and ys for one yeares Rente due at the feast of st Michaell last past 1601, unto the Reverent Father in god Thomas by gods providence Lord Bishope of Winchester and ys for Certeine tenem^ts one the banke syde Late one willm Paynes and nowe in the tenore of the saide Phillipe Henslowe. &per; me Johan Middleton.

R the xxv^th day of October Anno Dom 1611 of M^r Edwarde Allen Esquier, for one half yeares rent of his howse and wharfe within the Cloose of S^t Maryoveries dewe to the Ryghte Honnorable Antony Lorde Viscounte Mountague att the feast of St mychaell Tharchaungell, last past, the some of fiftye shillings of lawfull Englishe money; I say R ls. &per; me Mathewe Woodwarde.

I pray you, M^r Hinchlow, deliver unto the

bringer hereof the some of fyve and fifty shillings, to make the 3l. fyve shillings w.^ch they receaved before, full six pounds, in full payment of their booke called The fayre Constance of Rome; whereof I pray you reserve for me M^r Willsons whole share, w^ch is xls, w^ch I, to supply his neede, delivered him yesternight. Yo^r Lovinge ffreind
Robt. Shaa.

M^r Hinchlow:
M^r Dawborne and I have spent a great deale of time in conference a bout this plott, w^ch will make as beneficiall a play as hath come these seaven yeares. It is out of his Love he detained it for us; onely xl. is desir'd in hand, for w^ch, wee will be bound to bring you in the play finish'd upon the first day of August; wee would not Loose it, wee have so assured a hope of it, and, on my knowledge M^r Dawborne may have his request of another Companie. pray, let us have speedie answere, and effectuall; you know, the last money you disburst was instly pay'd in, and wee are now in a way to pay you allso, unlesse yo^r selfe, for want of small spplie, will put us out of it. pray, let us know when wee shall speake with you; Till when and ever I rest

bookes owinge for (5), baxsters tragedy, Tobias, Comedy, Jepha Judg of Israel, love parts frendshipp, The cardinall^{8 note}.

M^r Allen, I commend my love and humble duty to you, geving you thankes for yo^r great bounty bestoed upon me in my sicknes, when I was in great want, god blese you for it; Sir, this it is, I am to go over beyond the seeas w^t M^r Browne and the company, but not by his meanes, for he is put to half a shaer, and to stay hear, for they ar all against his going, now good Sir, as you have ever byne my worthie frend, so helpe me nowe. I have a sute of clothes and a cloke at pane fo^r three pound, and if it shall pleas you to lend me so much to release them, I shall be bound to pray fo^r you so longe as I leve; for if I go over and have no clothes, I shall not be esteemed of; and by gods helpe the first mony that I gett I will send it over unto you, for hear I get nothinge; some tymes I have a shillinge a day and some tymes nothinge, so that I leve in great poverty hear, and so humbly take my leave praying to god, I and my wiffe, for yo^r health and mistris allen's, which god continew. Yo^r poor frend to commaund,
Richard Jones.

Memorandun. 'tis agreed between Phillip Hinchlow Esq^r & Robert Daborne gent, y^t y^e s^d Robert shall before y^e end of this Ester Term deliver in his Tragoedy cald Matchavill & y^e Divill into the

hands of y^e sd Phillip, for y^e sum of xxty pounds, six pounds whearof y^e sd Robert aknowledgeth to hav receaved in earnest of y^e sayd play this 17^th of April, & must hav other fowr pound upon delivery in of 3 acts. & other ten pound upon delivery in of y^e last scean &pab;fited. In witnes hearof the s^d Rober Daborne hearunto hath set his hand this 17^th of Aprill 1613. P^r me Rob: Daborne.

Good M^r Hinchlow, I am upon y^e sodoyn put to great extremyty in bayling my man, c&obar;mitted to newgate upon taking a Possession for me, & I took less mony of my Kinsman, a lawier y^t was with me, then servd my turn. I am thearfore to beseech y^u to spare me xxs., which will doe me so great Pleasure y^t y^u shall find me thankfull & &pab;forming more then ever I promisd or am tyed to: so, bold upon so great an occation to truble y^u, I crave y^r favorable interpretation & rest. ever at y^r comand
Rom: Daborne.

28 Aprill 1613.

Lente M^r Daborne this money

wittness Hugh Attwell.

M Hinchlow, the company told me y^u ware expected thear yesterday to conclude about thear coming over or goinge to Oxford. I have not only labord my own play, which shall be ready before they come over but givn Cyrill Tourneur an act of y^e Arreignment of london to write, y^t. we may have y^t likewise ready for them. I wish y^u had spoken with them to know thear resolution, for they

depend upon y^r purpose. I hav sent y^u 2 sheets more fayr written. upon my ffayth, s^r, they shall not stay one howr for me; whearfor I beseech y^u as heatherto, so y^u would now spare me xxs. which stands me upon to send over to my counsell in a matter concerns my whole estate, & when I deale otherways then to y^r content, may I & myne want ffryndship in distress! so, relijng one [on] y^r favor, which shall never reap loss by me, I rest at y^r comand
Rob: Daborne.

5^o June 1613.

Receved by me Garred Leniaghe xxs.

S^r I expected y^u one [on] munday. I &pab;ceav y^u misdoubt my readynes; s^r I would not be hyred to break my ffayth with y^u. Before god, they shall not stay one hour for me; for I can this week diliver in y^e last word & will y^t night they play thear new play read this; whearof I have sent y^u a sheet & wone fayr written y^u may easyly know thear is not much behind, & I intend no other thing, god is my judge, tell this be finisht; y^e necessity of term busnies exacts me beyond my custom to be trublesom unto y^u; whearfore I pray send me the other 20s. I desyred, & then when I read next week, I will take y^e 40s. y^t remaynes, & doubt not y^u shall receav thanks in doing me this curtesy. so presuming one y^r favor, I rest Y^rs to comaund
Rob: Daborne.

10 June 1613.

M^r Hinchlow, I am inforced to make bold with y^u for one 20s. more of y^e xl, & one fryday

night I will deliver in y^e 3 acts fayr written, and then receve y^e other 40^s: & if y^u please to have some papers now, y^u shall; but my promise shall be as good as bond to y^u, & if y^u will let me have &pab;usal of any other book of y^rs I will after ffryday intend it speedyly & doubt not to giv y^u full content; so with my best remembranc I rest at y^r comaund
Robt. Daborne.

3 May, 1613,

R. the some of xx^s. of M^r Hinchley to the use of Mr. Daborne the 3 of Maye 1613, by me, Thos. More.

M^r Hinchlow, my trubles drawing to some end, have forced me to be trublesome to y^u beyond my purpose, bycause I would be free at any rate. some papers I have sent y^u, though not so say written all as I could wish. I will now wholy intend to finishe my promise, which though it come not within compass of this Term, shall come upon y^e neck of this new play they ar now studynge, my request is, the xl might be made up, whearof I have had 9l. if y^u please to appoynt any houer to read to M^r Allin, I will not fayle, nor after this day loose any time till it be concluded; my best rememberance to y^u I rest yo^rs Robt. Daborne.

8 May, 1613.

Mr. Hinchlow, y^r tried curtesy hath so fur ingaged me y^t howsoever this term hath much hindred my busnies, y^u shall see one Tuesday night, I have not bin Idle, I thank god moste of

my trubles ar ended, upon heering whearof I have taken home my wife agayne; soe y^t I will now, after munday, intend y^r busnies carefully, y^t the company shall aknowledg themselfs bound to y^u. I doubt not. one Tuesday night, if y^u will appoynt, I will meet y^u & M^r Allin & read some, for I am unwilling to read to y^e generall company till all be finisht; which upon my credit shall be to play it this next term, with y^e first. S^r, my occations of expenc have bin soe great & soe many, I am ashamed to think how much I am forct to press y^u, whearin I pray let me finde y^r favorablest construction, & ad one xxs. more to y^e mony I have receaved, which makes xil. & y^u shall one Tuesday see I will deserve, to my best ability, y^r love, which I valew more in it selfe, then y^e best companies in y^e town; so myself & labors resting at y^r service I comit y^u to god. y^rs to co&mbar;and
Robt. Daborne.

16 May, 1613.

Receved by me, Garret Leniage, xxs.

I have receaved of M^r Hinchlow the full some of sixteen pounds in p^t of Matchavill & y^e Divill.

Mem. I have receaved of M^r Hinchlow the full some of sixteen pounds in p^t of twenty pounds due to me Robert Daborne for my Tragoedy of Matchavill & y^e Divill. I say receaved sixteen pounds this 19^th of May as aforesayd. In witnes whearof I hereunto hav sett my hand, 1613. Robt. Daborne.

this play is to be deliverd in to M^r Hinchlow with all speed. John Alleyn.

S^r. I did thinke I deservd as much mony as M^r Messenger, although knowinge y^r great disbursments I forbour to urdge y^u beyond y^r own Pleasure; but my occations press me so neerly y^t I cannot but expect this reasonable curtesy, consydering I pay y^u half my earnings in the play besyds my continuall labor & chardge imployd only for y^u; which if it prove not proffitable now, y^u shall see I will giv y^u honnest satisfaction for the utmost farthinge I owe yow, & take another course: whearfore this being my last, I beseech y^u way [weigh] my great occation this once, & make up my mony Even with M^r Messengers, which is to let me have xs. more. I am sure I shall deserv it & y^u can never doe me a tymelyer curtesy, resting at y^r comand Robt. Daborne.

I pray S^r let y^r boy giv order this night to the stage-kee&pab;, to set up bills ag^st munday for Eastward hoe, & one wenasday, the New play.

S^r if y^u doe not like this play when it is read, y^u shall have the other which shall be finished with all expedition; for befor god this is a good one, & will giv y^u content: howsoever, y^u shall never loose a farthing by me; whearfor I pray misdoubt me not, but as y^u hav bin kynd to me, so continew it till I deserv the contrary; and I pray send me ten shillings & take these papers, which wants but one short scean of the whole play, so I rest. y^rs at comand
Robt. Daborne.

M^r Hinchlow y^u hav now a full play. I desyr y^u should disburse but 12l. a play tell they be playd; I mean to urdge y^u no farther, for if y^u like not this, y^u shall hav another to y^r. content. befor god, y^u hav the full play now, & I desyr but 20s. to serv my ordynary turn, till I have finished one, y^t. y^u may hav y^r. choyse, for I would hav y^u Know, I can hav mony for papers though I hav cast myself upon y^u with a purpose to deserv y^r. love. As for M^r Pallat, is much discontented with your neglect of him, I would I knew y^r. mynd to giv him awnswer. S^r if y^u deny me this reasonable kyndnes, it will forc me to ingage a play which y^u will miss: so desyring y^t awnswer I rest, y^r at comand
Robt. Daborne.

28 March 1613

pd unto M^r Daborne the 2 of Aprell 1614 in earnest of The Shee Saynte, at his owne howse the some of viiis.

Lent of this bille the 29 of Marche in fulle payment of his new playe laste written; the some of . . . . . . . . . . xs.

M^r Hinchlow, of all ffryndship let me beholding to y^u for one xxs. which shall be the last I will request till the play be fully by us ended. upon my honnest ffayth, with y^u which I will never break, I will request no more, & soe much will be due to me then. S^r this is my last request of y^r trouble which my speedy occation presses me to; soe I rely upon y^r lov hearin, for which y^u shall ever comaund me
Rob: Darborne.

16th July 1613.

pd this xxs. the 16th of July, 1613.

M Hinchlow I wrote a leter to M^r Griffyn requestinge thearin y^r awnswer & end to these businesses & debts betwixt us but I cannot hear from him my desyer was y^t eather y^u would be my paymayster for another play or take xl. of y^t mony we hav had into y^r hands agayne & security for the rest, s^r it is not unknown to y^u y^t I could & had good certeynty of means before I wrote unto y^u which upon hopes of y^r love I forsooke & must now if y^u & I had ended return to them agayne, for my occations untill I have made sale of y^t estate I have ar soe urgent y^t I can forbear no longer, whearfor I pray S^r of y^r much ffryndship doe me one curtesy more till Thursday when we deliver in o^r play to y^u as to lend me twenty shillings & upon my ffayth and Christianyty I will then or giv y^u content or secure y^u to the utmost farthing y^u can desyre of me, S^r I pray of all y^r gentlenes deny not this curtesy to me & if y^u fynd me not most just & honnest to y^u may I want a ffrynd in my extremyty it is but till thursday I request y^u hearing & so rest at y^r comaund
Rob: Daborne.

S^r y^u hav a receipt of myne for twenty shillings which I sent y^u by the waterman at the cardinalls hatt that or this shall sufficiently giv y^u assurance.

30 July 1613.

S^r I sat up last night till past 12, to write out this sheet & had not necessity inforct me to y^e comon place [pleas] bar this morning to acknowledge a ffynall recovery, I would this day hav deliverd in all. I hav bin heartofor of y^e receaving hand; y^u shall now find return to y^r content & y^t speedyly.

I pray, S^r, let me have 40s. in earnest of y^e Arreighnment, & one munday night I will meet y^u at y^e new play & conclud further, to y^r content I doubt not, resting my self & whole Indevors wholly at y^r Service
Rob: Daborne.

18 June 1613.

M^r Hinchlow, I &pab;ceave y^u think I will be behind with my Tragoedy; if so y^u might worthely account me dishonest, indeed for thear good & myne own I have took extrardynary payns with the end, & alterd one other scean in the third act. which they have now in parts. for y^e Arreighnment, if y^u will please to be my paym^r. as for the other, they shall have it, if not, try my Tragoedy first & as y^t proves so deal with me, in the mean my necessity is such y^t I must use other means to be furnisht upon it; Before god, I can have 25l. for it as some of y^e company know; but such is my much debt to y^u, y^t. so long as my labors may Pleasure them & y^u say y^e word, I am wholy yours to be ever comaunded
Rob: Daborne.

I pray, S^r, if y^u resolv to do this curtesy for y^e company, let me hav 40s. more tell we seatel,

25 June 1613.

Father Hinchlow,
I am unluckily taken on an execution of 30l. I can be discharg'd for xxl. xl. I have from a frend: if now in my extremity you will venture xl. more for my Liberty, I will never share penny till you

have it againe; and make any satisfaction by writing, or otherwise y^t you can devise. I am loath to importune, because I know yo^r disbursments are great; nor must any know I send to you, for then my creditor will not free me, but for the whole some. I pray speedily consider my occasion, for if I be putt to use other means, I hope all men, and yo^r selfe will excuse me, if (inforcedly) I cannot proove so honest, as towards you, I ever resolv'd to be. yo^r Loving son,
Nat. Field.

Mr. Hinchlow, I have ever since I saw y^u kept my bed, being so lame that I cannot stand. I pray, S^r, goe forward with that reasonable bargayn for The Bellman; we will hav but twelv pounds and the overplus of the second day, whearof I hav had ten shillings, and desyre but twenty shillings more, till y^u hav 3 sheets of my papers. Good S^r, consyder how for y^r sake I hav put myself out of the assured way to get mony, and from twenty pounds a play am come to twelv; thearfor in my extremyty forsake me not, as y^u shall ever comand me. my wif can aquaynt y^u how infinite great my occation is, and this shall be sufficient for the receipt, till I come to set my hand to your booke. yo^r at comand
Rob. Daborne.

3 Agust, 1613.

Lent M^r Daborne upon this not [note] the 23 of Agust in earnest of a playe called The Bellman of London, xxs.

M^r Allen, co&mbar;ends
S^r I hope you mistak not o^r remooval from the bank's side. wee stood the intemperate weather,

till more Intemperatr M^r. Meade thrust us over, taking the day from us w^ch by cours was owrs; though by the time wee can yet claime none, & that power hee exacted on us, for the prosecution of o^r further suite in a house; wee intreate you to for-think well of the place, (though it crave a speedie resolution) lest wee make a second fruitless paines and as wee purpose to dedicate all o^r paines powers & frends all referent to yo^r uses: so wee intreate you in the meane time, to look toward o^r necessityes; leaving you ever a certaine forme of satisfaction; wee have neede of some monie (indeed urdgent necessitie,) w^ch wee rather wish you did heare in conference then by report in writing; wee have to receive from the court (w^ch after shrovetide wee meane to pursue with best speede) a great summe of monie; meane while, if you'le but furnish us with the least halfe, w^ch will be fortie pounds; it shall be all confirm'd to you, till your satisfaction of the fourty. what we can do for yo^r availe or purpos, wee profess o^r readiest furtherance, and you shall co&mbar;and it, for w^ch wee entreat this kindness from you, still resting In your emploimente
frends to their best powers
Rob: Paltant
William Rowley
Joseph Taylor
John Newton
Robt. Hanten
Hugh Attwell
Anthony Smyth

S^r. I hav bin twise to speak with y^u both for the sheet I told y^u off, as also to know y^r determination for the company, wheather y^u purpose they shall

have the play or noe. they rate upon me, I hear, bycause the Kingsmen hav given out they shall hav it. if y^u please, I will make y^u full amends for thear wrong to y^u in my last play, before they get this; for I know it is this play must doe them good, if y^u purpose any to them. I hav sent y^u 2 sheets more, so y^t y^u hav 3 sheets, & I desyre y^u to send me 30s. more, which is just eight pound, besyds my rent, which I will fully satisfy y^u eather by them or the Kings men, as y^u please. good s^r let me know y^r mynd, for I desyre to make y^u part of amends for y^r great ffryndship to me, wishing my labor or service could deserv y^u: so trusting one y^r gentlenes, which cannot long be without satisfaction, now I rest ever at y^r comaund
Rob: Daborne

Lent M^rs Daborne upon this bill more, the 29 of october . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxs.

S^r., y^r man was with me, whoe found me wrighting the last scean, which I had thought to have brought y^u to night, but it will be late ear I can doe it; & being satterday night, my occation urges me to request y^u spare me xs. more, & for y^r mony, if y^u please not to stay till Johnsons play^{3 note} be playd, the Kings men hav bin very earnest with me to pay y^u in y^r mony for y^r curtesy, whearin y^u shall have 30s. profit with many thanks. purposing to morow nyght, if y^u call not upon me, to com & shew y^u fynis. I pray S^r supply this my last occation,

which crowns y^e rest of y^r curtesies, to which I will now giv speedy requitall, resting. ever at y^r comaund
Rob Daborne

Nov: 13 1613

S^r, if ever my service may do y^u so much pleasure, or my ability make y^u payment for it, let me receav now this curtesy from yow, being but xs. by god, had it not bin sunday, I would not have for twise so much wrote to y^u in this manner, but my Lord Willoughby hath sent for me to goe to him to morow morning, by six a clocke, & I know not how Proffitable it may be to me; & without y^r kindnes hearin I cannot goe: he goes away with the king to-morow morning; whearfor I must be thear by tymes. making this last tryall of y^r love & favor, I rest y^is to comaund
Rob: Daborne

Lent upon this bill the 2 of Aguste 1614.

M^r Hinchlow, I builded upon y^r promyse to my wife, neather did I aquaint the company with any mony I had of yow, bicause they should seek to y^u., as I know they will & giv you any terms y^u can desyre: if they doe not, I will bring y^u y^r mony for the papers & many thanks, neather will I fayle to bring in the whole play next week; whearfor I pray S^r of all ffryndship, disburse one 40s. & this note shall suffice to acknowledg my self indebted to y^u with my q^rters rent 8l., for which y^u shall eather have the whole companyes bonds to pay y^u the first day of my play being playd, or the

Kings mershall pay it y^u & take my papers. S^r my credit is as deer to me now as ever & I will be as carefull of it as heartofore, or may I never prosper nor myne! so, desyring this may satisfy y^u till y^u appoynt a tyme when I shall bring y^u the companies bond, I rest expecting y^u no more defering me, ever at y^r comand
Rob: Daborne.

M^r Hinchlow, y^u accuse me with the breach of promise. trew it is, I promysd to bring y^u the last Scean, which y^t y^u may see finished, I send y^u the foule sheet, and y^e fayr I was wrighting as y^r man can testify; which, if great busnies had not provented, I had this night fynished. S^r, y^u meat me by y^e comon measuer of Poets: if I could not liv by it & be honest, I would giv it over: for rather then I would be unthankfull to y^u, I would famish. thearfor accuse me not till y^u hav cause. if y^u pleas to &pab;form my request, I shall think myself beholding to y^u for it. howsoever, I will not fayle to write this fayr & &pab;fit the book, which shall not ly one y^r hands. y^rs to comaund
Rob: Daborne.

Lent at this tyme 8s. the 13 of November, 1613.

S^r I have sent to y^u to request y^u to send me the twenty shillings I soe earnstly desyred y^u to lend me last night; for which, as all the rest of y^r mony, I will give yow that honnest & just satisfaction one Tuesday next, if y^u please to come or send to

me, as I told y^u, y^t y^u shall never repent y^r many curtesyes to me; which ty me so far to &pab;form the faythfull part of an honnest man, y^t I shall never trewly rest contented till I manyfest myself worthy y^r great favor, which ever I will aknowledge in all servic to be comaunded
Rob: Daborne.

27 Nov. 1613.

Wittnes Moyses Bowler, xxs.

S^r out of the great love I have felt from y^u, I am to request y^u to my great occation & present necessety, which with less mony will be unsupplied, to send me 20s. I pray, s^r, accoumpt me not amongst the number of those y^t wholy serv thear own turns, for god knows it is not mony could hyre me to be dishonest to so worthy a ffrynd as y^u ar: whearfor sinc thear remayns so small a so&mbar;, I pray part with it to my good which xs. will not I protest doe: y^u know it is term tyme, and a litle mony wanting will much hynder me; whearfor, good S^r, let me fynd y^u put some trust in me, which when I deceav, god forsake me & myne. one munday I will be with y^u, so desyring y^u to send me the Book y^u promysd & no less than 20s. I rest ever at y^r comaund
Rob: Daborne.

7 Nov. 1613.

Witnes Moyses Bowler.

M^r Hinchlow, I acquaynted you with my necessity, which I know you did in part supply, but if y^u doe not help me to tenn shillings by this bearer by the living god I am utterly disgract, one ffryday

night I will bring you papers to the valew of three acts. S^r my occation is not ordynary, that thus sodeynly I write to you; whearfor I beseech you doe this for me, as ever y^u wisht me well, which if I requite not, heaven forget me.

Lent upon this bill xs. to the fencer, upon the owle.

M^r Griffin, my occation is so much above ordynary loss, y^t if y^u cannot procure M^r Hinchlow to let me have the 40s. Ile deliver y^u a paten worth a hundred pound into y^r hands for it, till I pay it agayn: whearfor I pray, S^r, doe my extremyty this curtesy, & I will requitt it more then I will write. I pray, S^r, let me instantly speak with y^u, for it concerns me nearly y^r much distressed frynd,
Rob: Daborne.

Lent uppon a pattent to M^r Dawborne xls.

S^r I wrote to yow by my wif, hopinge, upon y^r receipt of all my papers, y^t yow would have pleasured me with 20s. if not upon the play yow have, yet upon my other out of y^r booke, which I will undertake shall make as good a play for y^r publiqe howse as ever was playd; for which I desyre but ten pounds, & I will undertake upon the reading it, your company shall giv y^u 20l. rather than part with it. S^r, howsoever my want inforces me for a tyme, I shall shortly be out of it, & be able to forbear a play till I can make the best. it is but 20s. I desyre, till y^u have mony or security to y^r content. for y^t y^u ar out of. I have upon my wifes words keept one all this day heer, assuring myself y^u would

for my much good have pleasured me this onc, which I beseech at y^r hands, though y^u never lay out penny more in which trust I rest ever at y^r comaund
Rob: Daborne.

9 December 1613.

S^r. doe not thinke I incroch upon y^u, for god is my judg, I mean playnly & justly & y^u shall make y^r own terms with me in any thinge.

Receaved by mee Robert Daborne gentleman of Phillip Hinchlow Esquier the 24 of December 1613, the some of seven pounds in part of payment of the some of tenn pounds, which I am to receave of the said Phillip Hinchlow in full satisfaction of a plaie called The Owle, when I have fynishedd and made perfect the same, accordinge to a bond made by mee to the said Phillip for the same. In wittnes whereof I have hereto sett my hand the daye and yeare first above written. Rob: Daborne.

The Condition of this obligac&obar;n is such, that if the above bounden Robert Daborne shall deliver or cause to be deliverd one plaie fullie perfected and ended Called by the name of The Oule unto the said Phillip Hinchlow, at, or uppon, the tenth daye of ffebruarie next ensuinge the date hereof, which the said Phillip Hinchlow shall approove alowe and accept of, that then and from hence foorth this present obligac&obar;n to bee voyde and of non effect, or else to remayne in full power strength and virtue. Robert Daborne.

Signed Sealed and Delv^red in the presence of Edwarde Griffin, Walter Hopkinss, Geo: Hales.

S^r, I yeeld y^u many thanks for y^r last kindnes, which did me infinite pleasure. I hav bin very ill this week of an extream cold, ells I had come this night unto you. I will request no farther curtesy at y^r hands upon any occation till y^u hav papers in full & to y^r content only the other tenn shillings which I requested ag^st this day, being a tyme y^t requires me beyond my present means. S^r, think not y^r curtesy can loose by me. I will be any thing rather then Ingratefull to so much love as I hav receaved from y^u. as y^u hav donn what I can desyre in doing this, so now look for my honnest care to discharge my bond. I will not truble y^u with many words. god send y^u many hapy new years & me no otherwise then I approv myself honnest to y^u y^rs ever at comaund
Rob: Daborne

31^o December 1613

one [on] munday I will come to y^u, & appoynt for the reading the old Book & bring in the new.

pd upon this bille toward The Owle. xs.

Articles of Agreement,] made concluded and agreed uppon and w^ch are to be kept & performed by Robert Dawes of London Gent unto and with Phillipp Henslowe Esq^re and Jacob [Meade Waterman] in manner and forme following, that is to say

Imprimis. the said Robert Dawes for him his executors and administrators doth covenante promise and graunt to and with the said Phillipp Henslowe and Jacob Meade their executors administrators

and assynes in manner and formme followinge that is to saie that he the said Robert Dawes shall and will plaie with such company as the said Phillipp Henslowe and Jacob Meade shall appoynte for and during the tyme and space of three yeares from the date hereof for and at the rate of one whole Share accordinge to the custome of players; and that he the said Robert Dawes shall and will at all tymes during the said terme duly attend all suche rehearsall which shall the night before the rehearsall be given publickly out; and if that he the saide Robert Dawes shall at any tyme faile to come at the hower appoynted, then he shall and will pay to the said Phillipp Henslowe and Jacob Meade their executors or assignes Twelve pence; and if he come not before the saide rehearsall is ended then the said Robert Dawes is contented to pay twoe shillings; and further that if the said Robert Dawes shall not every daie whereon any play is or ought to be played be ready apparrelled and &wblank; to begyn the play at the hower of three of the clock in the afternoone unles by sixe of the same Company he shall be lycenced to the contrary, that then he the saide Robert Dawes shall and will pay unto the said Phillipp and Jacob or their assignes three [shillings] and if that he the saide Robert Dawes Happen to be overcome with drinck at the tyme when he [ought to] play, by the Judgment of ffower of the said company, he shall and will pay Tenne shillings and if he [the said Robert Dawes] shall [faile to come] during any plaie having noe lycence or just excuse of sicknes he is contented to pay Twenty shillings; and further the said Robert Dawes for him his executors and administrators doth covenant and graunt to and with the said Phillipp Henslowe and Jacob Meade their executors administrators and asignes

by these presents, that it shall and may be lawfull unto and for the said Phillip Henslowe and Jacob Meade their executors or assignes during the terme aforesaid to receave and take back to their owne proper use the &pab;t of him the said Robert Dawes of and in one moyetie or halfe part of all suche moneyes as shal be receaved at the Galleres & tyring howse of such house or howses wherein he the saide Robert Dawes shall play; for and in consideration of the use of the same howse and howses, and likewis shall and may take and receave his other moyetie
the moneys receaved at the galleries and tiring howse dues towards the pa[ying] to them the saide Phillip Henslowe and Jacob Meade of the some of one hundred twenty and fower pounds [being the value of the stock of apparell furnished by the saide company by the said Phillip Henslowe and Jacob Meade
the one part of him the saide Robert Dawes or any other somes

to them for any apparell hereafter newly to be bought by the [said Phillip Henslowe and Jacob Meade until the saide Phillip Henslowe and Jacob Meade] shall therby be fully satisfied contented and paid. And further the said Robert Dawes doth covenant [promise and graunt to and with the said Phillip Henslowe and Jacob Meade that if he the said Robert Dawes] shall at any time after the play is ended depart or goe out of the [howse] with any [of their] apparell on his body Or if the said Robert Dawes [shall carry away any propertie] belonging to the said Company or shal be consentinge [or privy to any other of the said company going out of the howse with any of their apparell on his or their bodies, he the said] Robert Dawes shall and will forfeit and pay unto the said Phillip and Jacob or their administrators or assignes the some

of ffortie pounds of lawfull [money of England]
and the said Robert Dawes for him his executors and administrators doth [covenant promise and graunt to with the said] Phillip Henslowe and Jacob Meade their Executors and Administrators, [and assigns]

that it shall and may be lawfull to and for the said Phillip Henslowe and Jacob Meade their executors and assignes to have and use the playhows so appoynted [for the said company
one day of] every fower daies, the said daie to be chosen by the said Phillip and [Jacob]

monday in any week on which day it shalbe lawful for the said Phillip [and Jacob their administrators] and assignes to bait their bears and bulls ther, and to use their accustomed sport and [games]

and take to their owne use all suche somes of money as therby shall arise and be receaved
And the saide Robert Dawes his executors administrators and assignes [doth hereby covenant promise and graunt to and with the saide Philip and Jacob,] allowing to the saide company for every such daye the some of ffortie shillings money of England.
[In testimony] whereof I the saide Robert Dawes have hereunto sett my hand and seal this [sev]enth daie of April 1614 in the twelfth yeare [of the reign of our sovereign lord &c.]

Imprimis in march 1612, uppon M^r Hinchlowes joyning companes with M^r Rossiter, the companie

borrowed 80li. of one M^r Griffin, and the same was put into M^r Hinchlowe's debt, which made it sixteen score pounds, who after the receipt of the same or the most parte thereof, in march 1613, hee broke the said companies againe and ceazed all the stocke under culler to satisfie what remayned due to him; yet perswaded M^r Griffyne afterwards to arest the companie for his 80li. who are still in daunger for the same. Soe nowe there was in equitie due to the companie
80li.

Item, Mr. Hinchlowe having lent one Taylor^{2 note} 30li. and 20li. to one Baxter, fellowes of the companie, cunninglie put theire said privat debts into the general accompt, by which meanes hee is in conscience to allow them
50li.

Item, havinge the stock of Apparell in his hands to secure his debt, he sould tenn pounds worth of ould apparell out of the same, without accomptinge or abatinge for the same. heare growes due to the Companie
10li.

Alsoe uppon the departure of one Eglestone a fellowe of the companie, he recovered of him 14li. towards his debt which is in conscience likewise to bee allowed to the companie
14li.

In march 1613 hee makes up a Companie and buies apparell of one Rosseter to the value of 63li.: and valued the ould stocke that remayned in his hands at 63li. likewise then uppon his word acceptinge the same at that rate, which beinge prized by M^r Daborne justli, betweene his partner Meade and him came but to 40li. so here growes due to the Companie
23li.

Item, he agrees with the same companie that

they should enter bond to plaie with him for three yeares at such house and houses as hee shall appointe, and to allowe him halfe galleries for the said house and houses and the other halfe galleries towards his debt of 126li. and other such moneys as hee should laie out for playe apparrel duringe the space of the said three yeares agreeinge with them, in considerac&obar;n wheareof to seale each of them a bond of 200li. to find them a convenient house and houses and to laie out such monies as fower of the sharers should think fitt for theire use in apparrell which at the three yeares beinge paid for to be delivered to the Shares; whoe accordinglie entered the said bonds, but M^r Henslowe and M^r Mead deferred the same and in conclusion utterly denied to seale at all.

Item, M^r Hinchlowe having promised in considerac&obar;n of the companies lying still one daie in forteene for his baytinge, to give them 50li. hee having denied to bee bound as aforesaid gave them onlie 40li. and for that M^r Field would not consent thereunto, hee gave him soe much as his share out of 50li. would have come unto, by which meanes hee is dulie indebted to the companie.
xli.

In June followinge the said agreement, hee brought in M^r. Pallant and shortlie after M^r Dawes into the said Companie, promising one 12s. a weeke out of his part of the galleries and the other 6s. a weeke out of his part of the galleries, and likewise M^r Field was thought not to be drawne thereunto; hee promised him six shillinges weeklie alsoe, which in one moneth after unwilling to beare so greate a charge, he called the Companie together, and told them that this 24s. was to be charged upon them; threatninge those which would not consent thereunto to breake the Companie and make up a newe without them. Wheareuppon

knowinge hee was not bound, the three quarters sharers advauncing them selves to whole sharers consented thereunto, by which meanes they are out of purse 30li. and his parte of the galleries bettred twise as much.
30li.

Item, having 9 gatherers more than his due, itt comes to this yeare from the Companie.
10li.

Item, the Companie paid for Arras and other properties 40li. which M^r Henchlowe deteyneth 40li.

In februarie last 1614, perceivinge the Companie drew out of his debt and called uppon him for his accompts hee brooke the Companie againe by withdrawinge the hired men from them, and sells theire stocke in his hands for 400li. givinge under his owne hand that he had receaved towards his debt
300li.

Which with the juste and conscionable allowances before named made to the Companie which comes to 267li. makes
567li.

He chargeth the stocke with 600li. and odd pounds, towards which hee hath receaved as aforesaid 567li. of us; yet sells the stocke to strangers for fower hundred pounds and makes us no satisfaction.

Hee hath taken all bonds of our hired men in his own name, whose wages though wee have truly paid, yet att his pleasure hee hath taken them awaye, and turned them over to others to the breckinge of our Companie.

For lendinge of vili. to pay them their wages, hee made us enter and to give him the profitt of a warrant of tenn pounds due to us at court.

Also hee hath taken right gould and silver lace of divers garments to his owne use without accompt to us or abatement.

Uppon every breach of the Companie hee takes new bonds for his stocke, and our securitie for playinge with him: soe that hee hath in his hands bonds of ours to the value of 5000li. and his stocke to; which he denies to deliver, and threatens to oppresse us with.

Alsoe havinge appointed a man to the seeinge of his accompts in byinge of clothes, hee beinge to have vis. a weeke, he takes the meanes away and turnes the men out.

The reason of his often breakinge with us hee gave in these words: Should these fellowes come out of my debt, I should have noe rule with them.

Alsoe wee have paid him for plaie-books 200li. or thereabouts, and yet he denies to give us the coppies of any one of them.

Also within 3 yeares hee hath broken and dismembered five Companies.

[By the liberal friendship of Mr. Douce, I am permitted to enrich the present work by the insertion of the following very curious and valuable essay. The cuts by which it was originally illustrated are unfortunately mislaid; but Mr. Douce is not one of those writers of whom it need be said that “the pictures for the page atone.” Boswell.]

The ensuing dissertation originated from the opinion of a late eminent critic and antiquary that the subject was deserving of particular consideration. How imperfectly it must be executed will

best be felt by those who are already accustomed to obscure inquiries; and little more can here be offered, or reasonably expected, than some attempt to arrange a few materials that have occurred during a course of reading immediately connected with the history of ancient manners. The critic above alluded to had remarked, that Shakspeare has most judiciously varied and discriminated his fools^{3 note}. Without doubting that great writer's capacity to have done so, it certainly remains to be proved that he has; or it might even be maintained that on some occasions he has left his sketches so imperfect as to render it by no means an easy matter to comprehend them. It has already been thought better to make the attempt in a separate note to the plays in which a clown or fool is introduced, and to direct what is now offered to a more general view of the subject.

It is so exceedingly clear that the terms clown and fool were used, however improperly, as synonymous by our old writers, that it would be an unnecessary occupation of the reader's time to adduce examples. Their confused introduction in the dramatis personæ might indeed render this position doubtful to any one who had not well considered the matter; but although the fool of our old plays denoted either a mere idiot or natural, or else a witty hireling or artificial fool, both retained for the purpose of making sport for their employers, the clown was certainly a character of much greater variety. He occasionally represented one of the above personages; sometimes he was a mere rustic, and very often no more than a shrewd and witty domestic. There are some instances in which any low character in a play served to amuse the audience

with his sallies of coarse buffoonery, and thus became the clown of the piece. In short, the theatrical clown or fool seems to have been a kind of heterogeneous character, drawn in part from real life, but very considerably heightened in order to produce stage effect: an opinion that derives considerable support from what Shakspeare has put into the mouth of Hamlet, when he makes him admonish those who play the clowns to speak no more than is set down for them. Indeed the great dramatist himself cannot be absolved from the imputation of having given too high a colouring to the characters in question, unless we suppose, what is extremely probable, that his plays have been very much interpolated with the extemporaneous nonsense of the players. To this licentious practice the author of an excellent and well written satire, entitled Pasquil's Mad-cappe, throwne at the Corruptions of these Times, 1626, 4to. alludes in the following lines:

Among other grave writers of the age, Sir Philip Sidney has reprobated the practice of introducing fools on the theatre. He remarks that the plays of his time were neither right tragedies nor right comedies, but that the authors mingled kings and clowns, “not,” says he, “because the matter so carieth it, but thrust in the clowne by head and shoulders to play a part in majestical matters, with neither decencie nor discretion: so as neither the admiration and commiseration, nor the right sportfulnesse is by their mongrell tragi-comedie obtained^{4 note}.”

William Rankin, a puritan, and contemporary with Shakspeare, has left us a most virulent attack on plays, and players, whom he calls monsters; “And whie monsters,” says he, “Bicause under colour of humanitie they present nothing but prodigious vanitie. These are wels without water, dead branches fit for fuell, cockle amongst corne, unwholesome weedes amongst sweete hearbes, and finallie, feends that are crept into the worlde by stealth, and holde possession by subtill invasion.” In another place, describing the performers at a fictitious banquet in Terralbon, [England] he says, “Some transformed themselves to roges, other to ruffians, some other to clownes, a fourth to fooles
the roges were ready, the ruffians were rude, theyr clownes cladde as well with country condition, as in ruffe russet; theyr fooles as fonde as might be,” &c.^{5 note} The latter passage is interesting, because the clown is properly distinguished from the fool, as he always should have been.

It may be the means of affording a clearer view of the present subject, if something like a classification of the different sorts of fools and clowns be given. The following is therefore offered as a substitute for a better.

I. The general domestic fool, often, but as it should seem improperly, termed a clown. He was, 1. A mere natural, or idiot. 2. Silly by nature, yet cunning and sarcastical. 3. Artificial. Puttenham, speaking of the latter, says, “A buffoune or counterfet foole, to here him speake wisely which is like himselfe, it is no sport at all; but for such a counterfait to talke and looke foolishly it maketh us laugh, because it is no part of his

naturall^{6 note}.” All these officiated occasionally as menial servants.

II. The clown, who was, 1. A mere country booby. 2. A witty rustic. 3. Any servant of a shrewd and witty disposition, and who, like a similar character in our modern plays, was made to treat his master with great familiarity in order to produce stage effect.

III. The female fool, who was generally an idiot.

IV. The city or corporation fool, whose office was to assist at public entertainments and in pageants. To this class belong perhaps the Lord Mayor's state fool, and those employed by the companies of trades, &c.

V. Tavern fools. These seem to have been retained to amuse the customers. We learn from one of Ben Jonson's plays that they exhibited with a Jew's harp, mounted on a joint-stool^{7 note}, and in another of them he has preserved the name of such a character^{8 note}: they were sometimes qualified to sing after the Italian manner^{9 note}. Fools were also employed in the common brothels^{1 note}.

VI. The fool of the ancient theatrical mysteries and moralities. He was, more properly speaking, the Vice, a singular character, that would afford sufficient matter for much better dissertations than those of Warburton or Upton. Being generally dressed in a fool's habit, he appears to have been gradually and undistinguishably blended with the domestic fool; yet he was certainly a buffoon of a different sort. He was always a bitter enemy to the Devil, and a part of his employment consisted in teazing and tormenting the poor fiend on every

occasion. He ceased to be in fashion at the end of the sixteenth century^{2 note}.

VII. The fool in the old dumb shows exhibited at fairs and perhaps at inns, in which he was generally engaged in a struggle with Death; a fact that seems alluded to more than once in Shakspeare's plays. It is possible that some casual vestiges of this species of entertainment might have suggested the modern English pantomimes.

VIII. The fool in the Whitsun ales and Morris dance.

IX. The mountebank's fool, or Merry Andrew.

There may be others introduced into our old dramas of an indefinite and irregular kind, and not reducible to any of the above classes; but to exemplify these or many of the above by a specific reference to authorities is not within the scope of the present essay. It is hoped that what has been just stated may contribute to assist the readers of old plays in forming some judgment of their own whenever the necessity shall arise.

A general investigation of that most singular and eccentric character the real domestic fool would occupy more space than could here have been spared. It would indeed extend to a length that few will conceive; but should the same laudable spirit of curiosity respecting the manners of former times which at present constitutes much of the amusement of an enlightened public continue to maintain its influence, encouragement would not be wanting to resume the subject more at large. In the mean time it may be sufficient to remark that the practice of retaining fools can be traced in very remote times throughout almost all civilized and even among some barbarous nations. It prevailed from the palace to the brothel. The pope

had his fool, and the bawd her's; and ladies entertained them of both sexes. With respect to the antiquity of this custom in our own country, there is reason to suppose that it existed even during the period of our Saxon history; but we are quite certain of the fact in the reign of William the conqueror. An almost contemporary historian, Maitre Wace, has left us a curious account of the preservation of William's life when he was only duke of Normandy by his fool Goles^{3 note}. Mention is made in Domesday of Berdic joculator regis; and although this term was unquestionably applied in numerous instances to denote a minstrel, much evidence might be adduced to show that on this occasion it signified a buffoon. Latin terms were used by the middle-age writers so licentiously and with such extreme carelessness, that in many cases it is difficult to obtain a precise idea of their meaning. Thus the jesters and minstrels were indefinitely expressed by the words joculator, scurra, mimus, ministrallus, &c., a practice that may admit of justification when we consider that in early times the minstrel and buffoon characters were sometimes united in one person. It must be allowed, however, that in an etymological point of view the term joculator is much better adapted to the jester than the minstrel.

The accounts of the household expenses of our sovereigns contain many payments and rewards to fools both foreign and domestic, the motives for which do not appear, but might perhaps have been some witty speech or comic action that had pleased the donors. Some of these payments are annual gifts at Christmas. Dr. Fuller, speaking of the court jester, whom he says some count a necessary

evil, remarks, in his usual quaint manner, that it is an office which none but he that hath wit can perform, and none but he that wants it will perform^{4 note}. A great many names of these buffoons have been preserved; and sufficient materials remain to furnish a separate biography of them, which might afford even more amusement than can be found in the lives of many of their betters. They continued an appurtenance to the English court to a late period. Muckle John, the fool of Charles the First, and the successor of Archee Armstrong, is perhaps the last regular personage of the kind^{5 note}

The discontinuance of the court fool had a considerable

influence on the manners of private life; and we learn from one of Shadwell's plays, that it was then “out of fashion for great men to keep fools^{7 note}.” But the practice was by no means abolished; it maintained its ground in this country so late as the beginning of the last century; and we have an epitaph, written by Dean Swift, on Dicky Pearce the Earl of Suffolk's fool, who was buried in Berkley church-yard, June 18, 1728^{8 note}. This person was an idiot. Lord Chancellor Talbot kept a Welsh jester named Rees Pengelding. He was a very shrewd fellow, and rented a farm of his master. Being distrained on for his rent by an oppressive steward, who had been a tailor and bore him a grudge, the surly fellow said to him on this occasion: “I'll fit you, sirrah.” “Then,” replied Rees, “it will be the first time in your life that you ever fitted any one.” Another Welshman called Will the taborer was retained in a similar capacity, about the beginning of the last century, by Sir Edward Stradling, of St. Donat's castle, in Glamorganshire. He is said to have been a very witty fellow, and man of strong intellects. Lord Bussy Mansel, of Margam, had likewise in his service one Robin Rush an idiot by nature, but who often said very witty things. There are people now alive in Wales, or lately were, who well remembered him.

The sort of entertainment that fools were expected to afford, may be collected in great variety from our old plays, and particularly from those of Shakspeare; but perhaps no better idea can be formed of their general mode of conduct than from the following passage in a singular tract by Lodge, entitled Wit's Miserie, 1599, 4to. “Immoderate

and disordinate joy became incorporate in the bodie of a jeaster; this fellow in person is comely, in apparell courtly, but in behaviour a very ape, and no man; his studie is to coine bitter jeasts, or to shew antique motions, or to sing baudie sonnets and ballads: give him a little wine in his head, he is continually flearing and making of mouthes: he laughs intemperately at every little occasion, and dances about the house, leaps over tables, out-skips mens heads, trips up his companions heeles, burns sack with a candle, and hath all the feats of a lord of misrule in the countrie: feed him in his humor, you shall have his heart, in meere kindness he will hug you in his armes, kisse you on the cheeke, and rapping out an horrible oth, crie God's soule Tum, I love you, you know my poore heart, come to my chamber for a pipe of tobacco, there lives not a man in this world that I more honor. In these ceremonies you shall know his courting, and it is a speciall mark of him at the table, he sits and makes faces: keep not this fellow company, for in jugling with him, your wardropes shall be wasted, your credits crackt, your crownes consumed, and time (the most precious riches of the world) utterly lost.” This is the picture of a real hireling or artificial fool.

As the profession of these hirelings required a considerable degree of skill and dexterity to amuse their employers, so it would in some instances fail of success, and the want of the above talents would excite considerable disgust and dissatisfaction. Cardinal Perron being one day in company with the duke of Mantua, the latter speaking of his fool, said that he was un magro buffone et non haver spirito. The cardinal remarked that nevertheless he had wit. “Why so?” demanded the duke; “Because,” replied the other, “he lives by a trade

which he does not understand^{9 note}.” The liberties allowed them were necessarily very great; but this was not always a protection to them. Every one knows the disgracefully severe conduct of archbishop Laud to poor Archee. The duke d'Espernon, though a man of great haughtiness of spirit, conducted himself on a similar occasion with much more discretion. His Gascon accent was a constant subject of raillery on the part of Maret, the fool of Louis XIII., whose great talent lay in mimicry. Cardinal Richelieu, who took upon him to give the duke some pointed admonitions, ordered him among other things to endeavour to get rid of his provincial tones, at the same time counterfeiting his speech, and sarcastically intreating him not to take his advice in bad part. “But why should I,” replied the duke, “when I bear as much every day from the king's fool who mocks me in your presence^{1 note}?” Selden has remarked, on a similar occasion, that a gallant man is above ill words, and has left us a story of the forbearance of the old lord Salisbury, whom he calls a great wise man, towards Stone, a celebrated fool in the reign of James the First^{2 note}. Fools, however, did not always escape with impunity; they were liable to, and often experienced, very severe domestic castigation. Whipping was the punishment generally inflicted^{3 note}. On the other hand they appear

to have been sometimes used with great tenderness. This is very feelingly exemplified in the conduct of Lear. Stafford, in his Guide of Honour, 1634, 18mo. tells us, that he “had knowne a great and competently wise man who would much respect any man that was good to his foole.” An opportunity here presents itself of explaining the old proverb of “five pounds; you've bled a fool,” which, adverting to the usual privilege or allowance belonging to this character, seems to demand a forfeit from whoever had infringed it by inflicting an improper and unlawful chastisement. This exposition derives support from a passage in Ben Jonson's Fox, and also contributes to its illustration. In the second act there is a song describing a fool, in which it is said that he “speaks truth free from slaughter.” This has been with some ingenuity supposed to mean “free from hurting any one.” The other construction may perhaps be thought as plausible.

With respect to his office on the stage, we may suppose it would be nearly the same as in reality; the difference might be that his wit was more highly seasoned. Mr. Malone has already cited a very curious passage on this subject from the play

of The Careless Shepherdess, 1656^{4 note}. In Middleton's Mayor of Quinborough, a company of actors with a clown make their appearance, and the following dialogue ensues:

Whoever is desirous of obtaining general and accurate information concerning the great variety of dresses that belong to some of the characters in question at different periods, must study ancient prints and paintings, and especially the miniatures that embellish manuscripts. These will afford sufficient specimens; but the difficulty of ascertaining how the theatrical fools and clowns of Shakspeare's

time were always habited, is insuperable. In some instances the plays themselves assist by peculiar references that leave but little doubt; but this is not the case in general. It is to be lamented that our artists did not appropriate more of their labours to the representation of theatrical subjects, and the fortunate discovery of a single ancient painting of this kind would be of more importance than a volume of conjectural dissertations. As it may be presumed that former theatrical managers exhibited with fidelity on the stage the manners of their own times, a reference to the materials which remain to illustrate the dress of the real fools, may supply the defect before alluded to.

It may be collected both from the plays themselves, and from various other authorities, that the costume of the domestic fool in Shakspeare's time was of two sorts. In the first of these the coat was motley or parti-coloured, and attached to the body by a girdle, with bells at the skirts and elbows, though not always. The breeches and hose close, and sometimes each leg of a different colour. A hood resembling a monk's cowl, which, at a very early period, it was certainly designed to imitate, covered the head entirely, and fell down over part of the breast and shoulders. It was sometimes decorated with asses' ears, or else terminated in the neck and head of a cock, a fashion as old as the fourteenth century. It often had the comb or crest only of the animal, whence the term cockscomb or coxcomb was afterwards used to denote any silly upstart. This fool usually carried in his hand an official scepter or bauble, which was a short stick ornamented at the end with the figure of a fool's head, or sometimes with that of a doll or puppet^{3 note}.

To this instrument there was frequently annexed an inflated skin or bladder, with which the fool belaboured those who offended him, or with whom he was inclined to make sport; this was often used by itself, in lieu, as it should seem, of a bauble. The form of it varied, and in some instances was obscene in the highest degree. It was not always filled with air, but occasionally with sand, or pease. Sometimes a strong bat or club was substituted for the bauble^{4 note}. In the second tale of the priests of Peblis, a man who counterfeits a fool is described “with club and bel and partie cote with eiris;” but it afterwards appears that he had both a club and a bauble. In an inventory of the goods of the ancient company of Saint George at Norwich, mention is made of “two habits, one for the club-bearer, another for his man, who are now called fools^{5 note};” and the author of Tarlton's Newes out of Purgatory, 1630, 4to. describes a dream in which he saw “one attired in russet with a button'd cap on his head, a great bag by his side, and a strong bat in his hand, so artificially attired for a clowne, as I began to call Tarlton's woonted shape to remembrance.”

In some old prints the fool is represented with a sort of flapper or rattle ornamented with bells. It seems to have been constructed of two round

and flat pieces of wood or pasteboard, and is, no doubt, a vestige of the crotalum used by the Roman mimes or dancers^{6 note}. This implement was used for the same purpose as the bladder, and occasionally for correcting the fool himself whenever he behaved with too much licentiousness. Such a castigation is actually exhibited in one ancient German edition of the Ship of Fools, by Sebastian Brandt; but the usual punishment on this occasion was a simple whipping. In some old plays the fool's dagger is mentioned, perhaps the same instrument as was carried by the Vice or buffoon of the Moralities; and it may be as well to observe in this place that the domestic fool is sometimes, though it is presumed improperly, called the Vice^{7 note}. The dagger of the latter was made of a thin piece of lath; and the use he generally made of it was to belabour the Devil. It appears that in queen Elizabeth's time the archbishop of Canterbury's fool had a wooden dagger and coxcomb^{8 note}. In Greene's play of Fryer Bacon, the fool speaks of his dagger. In Beaumont and Fletcher's Noble Gentleman, a person being compared to a fool, it is added that he should wear a guarded coat and a great wooden dagger. In Chapman's Widow's Tears, an upstart governor is termed “a wooden dagger gilded o'er;” and Rabelais has made Panurge give Triboulet the fool a wooden sword.

In an old German print a fool is represented with a sword like a saw.

The other dress, and which seems to have been more common in the time of Shakspeare, was the long petticoat. This originally appertained to the ideot or natural fool, and was obviously adopted for the purposes of cleanliness and concealment. Why it came to be used for the allowed fool is not so apparent. It was, like the first, of various colours, the materials often costly, as of velvet, and guarded or fringed with yellow^{9 note}. In one instance we have a yellow leather doublet^{1 note}. In Bancroft's Epigrams, 1639, quarto, there is one addressed “to a giglot with her greene sicknesse,” in which are these lines:

And a manuscript note in the time of the commonwealth states yellow to have been the fool's colour. This petticoat dress continued to a late period, and has been seen not many years since in some of the interludes exhibited in Wales.

But the above were by no means the only modes in which the domestic fools were habited. Many variations can be traced. The hood was not always surmounted with the cock's-comb, in lieu of which a single bell and occasionally more appeared. Sometimes a feather was added to the comb. In the old morality of The Longer Thou Livest the More Foole Thou Art, Moros the fool says,

The head was frequently shaved in imitation or

perhaps ridicule of a monk's crown. This practice is very ancient, and can be traced to the twelfth century. In one instance the hair exhibits a sort of triple or Papal crown. The tails of foxes or squirrels were often suspended to the garment. Godfrey Gobilive the fool in Hawes's Pastime of Pleasure, 1517, 4to. is described as so habited. In The Pope's Funerall, 1605, 4to. the author says, “I shall prove him such a noddy before I leave him that all the world will deeme him worthy to weare in his forehead a coxcombe for his foolishness, and on his back, a fox tayle for his badge.” It was likewise the dress of the fool in the plough pageant and morris dance^{2 note}. One might almost conclude that this custom was designed to ridicule a fashion that prevailed among the ladies in the reign of Edward the Third, and which is mentioned by the author of the old chronicle of England, erroneously ascribed to Caxton the printer in the following terms, “And the women more nysely yet passed the men in aray and coriouslaker, for they were so streyt clothed that they let hange fox tailles sowed bineth within hir clothes for to hele and hide thir a—, the which disguysinges and pride paradventure afterward brouzt forth and encaused many myshappes and meschief in the reame of Englond.” The idiot or natural was often clothed in a calf or sheep's skin^{3 note}.

A large purse or wallet at the girdle is a very ancient part of the fool's dress. Tarlton, who personated the clowns in Shakspeare's time, appears

to have worn it^{4 note}. The budget given by Panurge to Triboulet the fool is described as made of a tortoise shell^{5 note}.

We may suppose, that the same variety of dress was observed on the stage which we know to have actually prevailed in common life. The fools, however, did not always appear in a discriminative habit, and some of their portraits still remaining confirm this observation. A very fine painting by Holbein, in Kensington palace, represents Will Somers the fool of Henry the Eighth, in a common dress^{6 note}. In a wardrobe account of that sovereign we find these articles: “For making a dubblette of wursteede lyned with canvas and cotton, for William Som'ar oure foole. Item for making of a coote and cappe of grene clothe fringed with red crule and lyned with fryse, for our saide foole. Item for making of a dublette of fustian, lyned with cotton and canvas for oure same foole.” Yet he sometimes wore the usual hood instead of a cap; for in the same account is an article “For making

of a coote of grene clothe with a hoode to the same, fringed with white crule lyned with fryse and bokerham, for oure foole aforesaid^{7 note};” and there is a print of him after a picture by Holbein, in which he is represented in a long tunic with a chain and horn in his hand^{8 note}. In the celebrated picture of Sir Thomas More's family by Holbein, Patenson the fool is not distinguished by any peculiarity of dress; and, in one instance at least, the same remark applies to Archy the fool of James I.^{9 note} In those families where the fool acted as a menial servant, it is possible that he might have reserved his official habit for particular occasions. The paucity of materials that illustrate the theatrical character in question, must necessarily leave this part of the subject still more imperfect than the rest; but the plays of Shakspeare have furnished more information than those of any other writer. It is surprising, on the whole, that the character of the domestic fool is so seldom found in the old dramas that remain; because it was not only capable of affording considerable mirth to the unrefined part of the audience, but of giving the authors an opportunity of displaying a great deal of ingenuity so far as regarded extemporary wit. It is certain that the fools in Shakspeare's plays were preeminent above all others. For this we have the authority of Shadwell, who makes one of his characters say that they had more wit than any of the wits

and critics of his time^{1 note}. Beaumont and Fletcher have but rarely introduced them; Ben Jonson and Massinger never. Indeed the originals had rapidly declined at the period in which most of their plays were written, and another character of a mixed nature been substituted in their room. This was the witty servant or clown, (Class II. No. 3,) and of course his dress was not distinguished by any peculiarity.

The practice of introducing the fools and clowns between the acts and scenes, and after the play was finished, to amuse the audience with extemporaneous wit and buffoonery, has been so well illustrated by the able historian of the English stage, that very little can remain to be said on the subject^{2 note}. It has been traced from the Greek and Roman theatres; and, as their usages were undoubtedly preserved in those of the middle ages that belonged to the countries where Roman influence had been spread, it would not of course be peculiar to the early stage in England. Indeed the records of the French theatre amply demonstrate the truth of this position, and furnish several examples of the practice in question. In the mystery of Saint Barbara we find this stage direction, “Pausa. Vadant, et Stultus loquitur;” and he is several times introduced in like manner between the scenes, in order that the amusement of the spectators might not be suspended whilst something was in agitation for the further prosecution of the piece^{3 note}. Perhaps the most singular pause in any dramatic composition whatsoever is one which occurs in the very rare morality of La Condamnacion des Banquetz in the following

words, “Pause pour pisser le fol. Il prent ung coffinet en lieu de orinal & pisse dedans, et tout coule par bas,” sign. M iiij. Nor was the English stage in Shakspeare's time allowed to remain empty. Lupton has related a story of the clown at the Red Bull theatre, who was suddenly called for between the acts and forgot his fool's cap^{4 note}. Puttenham, speaking of verses that rhyme in the middle and end, observes that “they were more commodiously uttered by the buffoons or vices in playes then by any other person^{5 note}.” It was likewise a part of the stage fool's office to introduce at his own discretion a great many old songs, or at least the fragments of them^{6 note}.

The first symptoms of the decline of the domestic fools, and the causes of it, have been already touched on; and the same reasons may partly be assigned for their exile from the stage. In the præludium to Goffe's Careless Shepherdess, 1656, 4to. there is a panegyric on them^{7 note}, and some concern is manifested for the fool's absence in the play itself. It is likewise expressly stated that “the motly coat was banish'd with trunk-hose.” Yet during the reign of Charles the Second occasional efforts were made to restore the character. In the tragedy of Thorney Abbey, or the London Maid, 1662, 12mo. the prologue is spoken by a fool who uses these words, “the poet's a fool who made the tragedy to tell a story of a king and a court and leave a fool out on't, when in Pacy's and Sommer's and Patche's and Archee's times, my venerable predecessours, a fool was alwaies the principal verb.”

Shadwell's play of The Woman Captain, 1680, is perhaps the last in which a regular fool is introduced, and even there his master is made to say that the character was then exploded on the stage.

[It would be vain for me to attempt any addition to the researches of Mr. Douce on this or any other subject, to which he had applied his inexhaustible stores of curious information. Yet there is one question to which he has not adverted, which is not without its interest to those who are inclined to trace what Dr. Johnson would have called the anfractuosities of the human mind. From whence could this singular custom have first arisen? I should be unwilling to think that our ancestors could have derived pleasure from the mere exhibition of a fellow creature in the lowest and most calamitous state of degradation; and should therefore rather be desirous of deriving the employment of domestick fools from a superstition, which, however absurd, appears to have been more widely prevalent than has been generally supposed. We have been told by many travellers in the East, that the Turks regard an idiot with reverence as a person divinely inspired; and the following extraordinary passage from the Visions of Piers Plouhman, seems to prove, that a similar notion was entertained even by our countrymen at an early period.

“And to oure sight as hit semeth: suththe God hath the mighte
“To yeven each a whit wit. welthe and his hele
“And suffreth such so gon, hit semeth to myn inwitt
“Hit arn as hus aposteles suche peeple oth^r as his pvye disciples.” Whitaker's Edition, p. 152.

As knowledge and civilization increased, this wild fancy would disappear, but the practice founded upon it, would, from the force of habit, still subsist, till by degrees the place of the fool would be supplied by the licensed jester; and at last, this barbarous and absurd custom would be totally abolished.

That eagerness to become acquainted with futurity, which is confined to no period of the history of mankind, has led to every kind of irrational mode of divination, and to this perhaps among the rest. Nothing supernatural could be expected from a butcher or baker, or any one with whom the people were living in daily and familiar intercourse; but these unfortunate beings had nothing in common with the rest of the species; and their wild gestures and incoherent language would give them something of a mysterious character. From whence have the gipsies obtained the reputation of being fortune-tellers, but from their strange habits by which they are insulated from all around them? and why should the powers of witchcraft have been ascribed to miserable and decrepid old women, but because they have been driven into solitude by their poverty and infirmities?

The following extracts exhibit Mr. Douce's notions more particularly respecting the Fools in Shakspeare. Boswell.]

The Clowns.—The character of Speed is that of a shrewd witty servant. Launce is something

different, exhibiting a mixture of archness and rustic simplicity. There is no allusion to dress, nor any other circumstance, that marks either of them as the domestic fool or jester.

The Clown.—The clown in this play is a mere country fellow. The term fool, applied to him in Act V. Scene II. means nothing more than a silly fellow. He has not sufficient simplicity for a natural fool, nor wit enough for an artificial one.

The Clown.—There is not a single circumstance through the whole of this play which constitutes Lancelot an allowed fool or jester; and yet there is some reason for supposing that Shakspeare intended him as such, from his being called a patch a fool of Hagar's offspring, and in one place the fool. It is not reasonable, however, to conclude that person like Shylock would entertain a domestic of this description; and it is possible that the foregoing terms may be merely designed as synonymous with the appellation of clown, as in Love's Labour's Lost. On the whole, we have here a proof that Shakspeare has not observed that nice discrimination of character in his clowns for which some have given him credit.

The Clown.—Touchstone is the domestic fool of Frederick the duke's brother, and belongs to the class of witty or allowed fools. He is threatened with the whip, a mode of chastisement which was often inflicted on this motley personage. His dress should be a party-coloured garment. He should occasionally carry a bauble in his hand, and wear

asses' ears to his hood, which is probably the head dress intended by Shakspeare, there being no allusion whatever to a cock's head or comb. The three-cornered hat which Touchstone is made to wear on the modern stage is an innovation, and totally unconnected with the genuine costume of the domestic fool.

The Clown.—The clown in this play officiates as the tapster of a brothel; whence it has been concluded that he is not a domestic fool, nor ought to appear in the dress of that character. A little consideration will serve to show that the opinion is erroneous, that this clown is altogether a domestic fool, and that he should be habited accordingly. In Act II. Sc. I. Escalus calls him a tedious fool, and Iniquity, a name for one of the old stage buffoons. He tells him that he will have him whipt, a punishment that was very often inflicted on fools. In Timon of Athens we have a strumpet's fool, and a similar character is mentioned in the first speech in Antony and Cleopatra. But if any one should still entertain a doubt on the subject, he may receive the most complete satisfaction by an attentive examination of ancient prints, many of which will furnish instances of the common use of the domestic fool in brothels. In Twelfth Night, Act IV. Sc. I. Sebastian mistakes the clown for such a character as that before us, and calls him a foolish Greek, a term that is very happily explained by Dr. Warburton, whose note both communicates and receives support on the present occasion.

The Clown.—He appears but twice in the play, and was certainly intended to be an allowed

or domestic fool in the service of Othello and Desdemona.

The Fool.—The fool in this play is the genuine domestic buffoon; but notwithstanding his sarcastical flashes of wit, for which we must give the poet credit, and ascribe them in some degree to what is called stage effect, he is a mere natural with a considerable share of cunning. Thus Edgar calls him an innocent, and every one will immediately distinguish him from such a character as Touchstone. His dress on the stage should be parti-coloured; his hood crested either with a cock's-comb to which he often alludes, or with the cock's head and neck. His bauble should have a head like his own with a grinning countenance, for the purpose of exciting mirth in those to whom he occasionally presents it.

The kindness which Lear manifests towards his fool, and the latter's extreme familiarity with his master in the midst of the most poignant grief and affliction, may excite surprise in those who are not intimately acquainted with the simple manners of our forefathers. An almost contemporary writer has preserved to us a curious anecdote of William duke of Normandy, afterwards William I. of England, whose life was saved by the attachment and address of his fool. An ancient Flemish chronicle among the royal MSS. in the British Museum, 16, F. iii., commences with the exile of Salvard lord of Roussillon and his family from Burgundy. In passing through a forest, they are attacked by a cruel giant, who kills Salvard and several of his people; his wife Emergard and a few others only escaping. This scene the illuminator of the manuscript, which is of the fifteenth century, has chosen to exhibit. He has represented Emergard as driven

away in a covered cart or waggon by one of the servants. She is attended by a female, and in the front of the cart is placed her fool, with a countenance expressive of the utmost alarm at the impending danger. Nor would it be difficult to adduce, if necessary, similar instances of the reciprocal affection between these singular personages and those who retained them.

The Clown.—He is a domestic fool of the same kind as Touchstone.

The Clown.—The clown in this play is a domestic or hired fool, in the service of Olivia. He is specifically termed “an allowed fool,” and “Feste the jester, a fool that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in.” Malvolio likewise speaks of him as “a set fool.” Of his dress it is impossible to speak correctly. If the fool's expression, “I will impeticoat thy gratility,” be the original language, he must have been habited accordingly. Mr. Ritson has asserted that he has neither coxcomb nor bauble, deducing his argument from the want of any allusion to them. Yet such an omission may be a very fallacious guide in judging of the habit of this character on the stage. It must however be admitted that where this happens there can be no clue as to the precise manner in which the fool was dressed.

The Clown.—He is a mere country fellow; but Shakspeare, in compliance with the usual expectations of the audience, has bestowed on him a due portion of wit and satire.

Timon of Athens.

The Fool.—The fool in this play is a very obscure and insignificant character. Dr. Johnson's conjecture, that he belongs to one of Alcibiades's mistresses, is very probable. Many ancient prints conduce to show that women of this description were attended by buffoons: and there is good reason for supposing, probably from the same kind of evidence, that in most brothels such characters were maintained to amuse the guests by their broad jokes and seasonable anticks. In Measure for Measure we have such a person, who is also a tapster; and in Antony and Cleopatra, Act I. Sc. I. we hear of a strumpet's fool.

The dress, in the present instance, should be a parti-coloured garment, with a hood and asses' ears, and a cock's-comb. He might also carry a bauble.

The Clown.—He is a mere country booby.

The Fool.—The character of Trinculo, who in the dramatis personæ is called a jester, is not very well discriminated in the course of the play itself. As he is only associated with Caliban and the drunken butler, there was no opportunity of exhibiting him in the legitimate character of a professed fool; but at the conclusion of the play it appears that he was in the service of the king of Naples as well as Stephano. On this account therefore, and for the reasons already offered in vol. xv. p. 116, he must be regarded as an allowed domestic buffoon, and should be habited on the stage in the usual manner.

Pericles.

The Clown.—Although Boult, the servant to the pandar and his wife, is not termed a clown in the dramatis personæ, it should seem that he has an equal claim to the appellation with several other low characters that have been introduced into plays for the purpose of amusing the audience. He bears some affinity to the tapster in Measure for Measure; but there is nothing that immediately constitutes him the jester to a brothel. See what has been said on such a character in the article relating to the clown in Measure for Measure.

The Clown.—He is nothing more than a shrewd rustic, performing the office of a messenger.

[It is not easy to ascertain whether seemingly different copies printed in the same year, are any thing more than one edition corrected in its passage through the press. I have been favoured by Mr. Amyot with the following collation of several first folios. Boswell.]

In a copy belonging to Mr. Litchfield, in As You Like It, p. 204, col. 1, the Clown's speech, “a ripe age,” &c. is given to Orlando, and William's speech, immediately following it, is assigned to the Clown.

In a copy now or very lately in the hands of Messrs Longman and Co, in Othello, p. 333, col. 1, top line, the words “and Hell gnaw his bones,” are substituted for the first line of Roderigo's speech, “I have heard thus much,” &c.

And in a copy lately at Messrs Arch's, the title-page (evidently genuine) is dated 1622, but the last page has the usual date 1623. James Street, 7th March, 1821.