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that he recommended some trivial alterations in them while they were yet in rehearsal ;---or that their real owners being carefully concealed, these productions were imputed to him as to one whose reputation was best able to promote their sale, or support their credit with an audience. The necessity of sheltering the plays of unpopular poets under borrowed names, was, I believe, at that period unknown, as well as the more malicious practice of fathering unsuccessful scenes on persons by whom they were never written. Neither was it then customary (as since) for distinguished authors to lend or sell their names, or to permit (like some Italian artists) the scholar to vend his paintings for those of the mas→ ter. It seems, however, that it was not unusual for booksellers to issue out the works of one man under the nominal sanction of another. Heywood, in his preface to the Brazen Age, complains, that a noted pedagogue had impudently stolen from him certain versions of Ovid, and published them as his own. Shirley likewise claims a play which was sent into the world as Fletcher's.32 I know indeed that our ancient stationers were not very scrupulous in this particular.33 Anticipated by their rivals in procuring copies of some of Shakespeare's genuine labours, by way of retaliation they might have placed his name before the next tragedies or comedies that fell into their hands. Part of this indeed is but conjecture. I have merely started the subject, and leave it to be pursued by literary antiquarians, whose sagacity and experience are greater than mine; repeating only, that Locrine and the Puritan were possibly the works of two different academics; that Oldcastle and Cromwell (as Dr Farmer observes) might be ranked among the almost innumerable dramas of Heywood; and that the Prodigul, having nothing characteristic in its composition, may, with equal likelihood, be ascribed to a pen distinct from all the rest. Here, however, I should observe, that Locrine, Cromwell, and the Puritan, were not publicly ascribed to our author till the appearance of the folio in 1664. What has been previously urged with relation to the Two Noble Kinsmen, Pericles, and the Yorkshire Tragedy, is submitted to every reader with that total diffidence which should always accompany imperfect knowledge, and would by no means disgrace even opinions built on more solid grounds than those of bare probability.

I cannot conclude this note without observing, how fortunate a circumstance it is for any society, and especially for one immediately subservient to learning, when an intelligent man is placed by the chance of rotation at its head. To the careful researches and liberal curiosity of Mr Lockyer Davis, the present Master of the Stationers' Company, we owe a recent discovery of the greater part of the first volume of their records, which was long supposed to have been lost through negligence, or to have been destroyed in the fire of London. The numberless dates of our earliest interludes, plays, ballads, &c. which will hereafter be ascertained by the aid of these annals, cannot fail to rank the name of the gentleman already mentioned among those of the best benefactors to the history of ancient English literature. Many of our critical or biographical performances may also in time to come be indebted to the warmth of his zeal, and the success of his investigations. At least I am sure, that the labour of turning over the memoirs which he has rescued from oblivion, will be considerably alleviated, should his successors entrust them to future authors, with a readiness and politeness like his own.---STEEVENS.

32 These particulars escaped me till after the last edition of Shakespeare was printed off. See note on Pericles. p. 176.

33 I affirm this on repeated inspection of their books, in which both their frequent frauds and invasions of each other's property, and their respective fines on discovery, are minutely recorded. The names of eight of the printers of the quarto editions of our author's plays, appear on the list of these delinquents.

GEORGE A GREENE,

THE

PINNER OF WAKEFIELD.

The author of this Play is unknown. Philips and Winstanley ascribe it to John Heywood, author of the Four P's, and other pieces which bear not the least resemblance to the present performance. The story on which it is grounded seems to have its foundation in the particular traditions of the town of Wakefield: that part which relates to Robin Hood is contained in one of the popular Bal lads concerning that celebrated outlaw, printed in the first volume of Evan's Collection of Old Ballads, p. 99. This Ballad is mentioned by Drayton, in his Poly-olbion, Song the Twentieth-eighth :

"It chanced she in her course on Kirkbey cast her eye,"
Where merry Robin Hood, that honest thief, doth lie;
Beholding fitly too before how Wakefield stood,

She doth not only think of lusty Robin Hood,

But of his merry man, the Pindar of the town

Of Wakefield, George a Green, whose fames so far are blown

For their so valiant fight, that every free man's song

Can tell you of the same, quoth she be talk'd on long,

For ye were merry lads, and those were merry days;" &c.

And Richard Braithwaite, in the Strappado for the Devil, 1615, 8vo. p. 203, says:

"At least such places labour to make known,

As former times have honour'd with renown.

So by thy true relation 't may appear

They are no others now, than as they were

Ever esteem'd by auntient times records,

Which shall be shadow'd briefly in few words.

The first whereof that I intend to show,

Is merry Wakefield, and her Pindar too:

Which Fame hath blaz'd with all that did belong,
Unto that Towne in many gladsome song:

The Pindar's valour, and how firm he stood

In the Townes defence, 'gainst the rebel Robin Hood;
How stoutly he behaved himselfe, and would,
In spite of Robin bring his horse to th' fold;
His many Maygames which were to be seene,
Yeerely presented upon Wakefield greene,
Where lovely Jugge, and lustie Tib would go,
To see Tom lively turne upon the toe;
Hob, Lob, and Crowde the fidler would be there,
And many more I will not speake of here:

Good God! how glad hath been this hart of mine,
To see that towne, which hath in former time
So flourish'd and so gloried in her name,
Famous by the Pindar who first raised the same;
Yea, I have paced ore that greene and ore,
And th' more I saw't, I tooke delight the more;
For where we take contentment in a place,
A whole daies walke seemes as a cinque pace.
Unto thy taske, my muse, and now make knowne
The jolly shoo-maker of Bradford towne,
His gentle craft so raised in former time,
By princely journey-men his discipline,
Where he was wont with passengers to quaffe,
But suffer none to carry up their staffe

Upon their shoulders, whilst they past through town,
For if they did, he soon should beat them downe.
(So valiant was the Souter), and from hence,
"Twixt Robin Hood and him grew th' difference;
Which, cause it is by most stage poets writ,
For brevity, I thought good to omit."

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1 Pinner, or Pindar ;-The keeper of the Pinfolds belonging to the common fields about Wakefield. Junius, in his Etymologicon, voce Pende, says: "Pende Includere ch. ab A. S. pennan pyndan idem significante. "Hinc pinder pinner. Qui pecora ultra fines vagantia septo includit." Mr Steevens observes, that the figure of this rustic hero is still preserved on a sign at the bottom of Gray's-Inn-Lane.

VOL. I.

SK

You honour me with this assent of yours;
2 And here upon my sword I make protest,
For to relieve the poor, or die myself.
And know, my lords, that James, the king of Scots,
Wars hard upon the borders of this land:
Here is his post; say, John Taylor,
What news with king James?

John. War, my lord, I tell; and good news I

trow;

For king James vows to meet you the twenty-sixth
Of this month, God willing; marry doth he, sir.
Ken. My friends, you see what we have to win.
Well, John, commend me to king James, and tell
him,

I will meet him the twenty-sixth of this month,
And all the rest; and so farewell. [Exit JOHN.
Bonfield, why stand'st thou as a man in dumps?
Courage; for if I win, I'll make thee duke.
I Henry Momford will be king myself,
And I will make thee duke of Lancaster,
And Gilbert Armstrong lord of Doncaster.
Bon. Nothing, my lord, makes me amazed at all,
But that our soldiers find our victuals scant.
We must make havock of those country swains;
For so will the rest tremble and be afraid,
And humbly send provision to your camp.

Gil. My lord Bonfield gives good advice; They make a scorn and stand upon the king: So what is brought is sent from them perforce; Ask Mannering else.

Ken. What sayest thou, Mannering?

Man. When as I shewed your high commission, They made this answer,

Only to send provision for your horses.

Ken. Well, hie thee to Wakefield, bid the town To send me all provision that I want; Lest I, like martial Tamberlaine, lay waste Their bordering countries, leaving none Alive that contradicts my commission.

Man. Let me alone, my lord, I'll make them Vail their plumes; for whosoever he be, The proudest knight, or justice, or other, that gainsayeth

Your word, I clap him fast, to make the rest to

fear.

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Enter the Justice, a Townsman, GEORGE A GREENE, and Sir NICHOLAS MANNERING, with his commission.

Just. M. Mannering, stand aside, whilst we confer

What is best to do, townsmen of Wakefield:
The earl of Kendall here hath sent for victuals;
And in aiding him, we shew ourselves
No less than traitors to the king;
Therefore let me hear, townsmen,
What is your consents.

Towns. Even as you please, we are all content.
Just. Then M. Mannering we are resolved-
Man. As how?

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mad,

That present danger cannot whet your wits,
Wisely to make provision of yourselves?
The earl is thirty thousand men strong in power,
And what town soever him resist,

He lays it flat and level with the ground:
Ye silly men, you seek your own decay:
Therefore send my lord such provision as he
wants,

So he will spare your town, and come no nearer
Wakefield than he is.

Just. Master Mannering, you have your answer; You may be gone.

Man. Well, Woodroffe, for so I guess is thy

name,

I'll make thee curse thy 3 overthwart denial;
And all that sit upon the bench this day
Shall rue the hour they have withstood my lord's
Commission.

Just. Do thy worst, we fear thee not.
Man. See you these seals? before you pass the
town,

I will have all things my lord doth want,
In spite of you.

Geo. Proud dapper Jack, vail bonnet to the bench

That represents the person of the king;
Or, sirrah, I'll lay thy head before thy feet.
Man. Why, who art thou?

Geo. Why, I am George a Greene,

True liegeman to my king,

Who scorns that men of such esteem as these,

2 Ana here upon my sword I make protest :-It was formerly common to swear upon the sword; that is, upon the cross which the old swords always had upon the hilt. Of this custom many instances are quoted by Dr Farmer and Mr Steevens, in their Notes on Hamlet, A. 1. S. 5.

Again, in Your five Gallants, by Middleton, A. 4 :-" Sweare on this sword then to set spurs to your horse, not to looke back, to give no markes to any passenger."

but when the Gods are

3 Overthwart denial:-So in Erasmus's Praise of Folie, 1549, Sign, C 2: sette at bankette, he plaieth the jester, now wyth hys lymphaaltynge, now with his skoffinge, and no with his overthwarte woords to provoke them all to laughter."

Euphues and his England, p. 57 :—“ As one to young to understande, or obstinate to overthwart,"

&

Should brook the braves of any traitorous squire.
You of the bench, and you my fellow-friends,
Neighbours, we subjects all unto the king;
We are English born, and therefore Edward's
friends,

Vow'd unto him, even in our mothers' womb,
Our minds to God, our hearts unto our king;
Our wealth, our homage, and our carcases,
Be all king Edward's. Then, sirrah, we have
Nothing left for traitors, but our swords,
Whetted to bathe them in your bloods,

Although I have rent his large commission, Yet of curtesy I have sent all his seals Back again by you.

Man. Well, sir, I will do your errand. [Exit. Geo. Now let him tell his lord, that he hath Spoke with George a Greene, right Pinuer Of merry Wakefield town, that hath physic for a fool,

Pills for a traitor that doth wrong his sovereign. Are you content with this that I have done? Just. Ay, content, George;

And die against you, before we send you any For highly hast thou honour'd Wakefield town,

victuals.

Just. Well spoken, George a Greene! Towns. Pray let George a Greene speak for us. Geo. Sirrah, you get no victuals here, Not if a hoof of beef would save your lives.

Man. Fellow, I stand amazed at thy presumption.

Why, what art thou that darest gainsay my lord, Knowing his mighty puissance and his stroke? Why, my friend, I come not barely of myself; For see, I have a large commission.

Geo. Let me see it, sirrah. Whose seals be these?

Man. This is the earl of Kendall's seal at arms; This lord Charnel Bonfield's;

And this sir Gilbert Armstrong's.

Geo. I tell thee, sirrah, did good king Edward's

son

Seal a commission against the king his father, Thus would I tear it in despite of him, [He tears the commission. Being traitor to my sovereign. Man. What! hast thou torn my lord's commission?

Thou shalt rue it, and so shall all Wakefield.
Geo. What, are you in choler? I will give you
pills

To cool your stomach. Seest thou these seals?
Now, by my father's soul, which was a yeoman,
When he was alive, eat them, or eat
My dagger's point, proud squire.

4

Man. But thou doest but jest, I hope?
Geo. Sure that shall you see, before we two
part.

Man. Well, and there be no remedy, so
George,-

One is gone; I pray thee, no more now.

Geo. O sir, if one be good, the others cannot hurt.

So, sir, now you may go tell the earl of Kendall,

In cutting of proud Mannering so short.
Come, thou shalt be my welcome guest to-day;
For well thou hast deserved reward and favour.

[Exeunt.

Enter old MUSGROVE, and young CUDDIE, his Son.

Cuddie. Now, gentle father, list unto thy son,
And for my mother's love, that erst was blythe
And bonny in thine eye, grant one petition
That I shall demand.

Old Mus. What is that, my Cuddie?
Cuddie. Father, you know

The ancient enmity of late between the Musgroves
And the wily Scots, whereof they have oath,
Not to leave one alive that 5 strides a launce.
O father, you are old, and waining age unto the
grave:

Old William Musgrove, which whilom was thought
The bravest horseman in all Westmorland,
Is weak, and forced to stay his arm upon a staff,
That erst could wield a launce.

6

Then, gentle father, resign the hold to me;
Give arms to youth, and honour unto age.

Mus. Avaunt, false-hearted boy! my joints do quake

Even with anguish of thy very words.

Hath William Musgrove seen an hundred years?
Have I been feared and dreaded of the Scots,
That, when they heard my name in any road,
They fled away, and posted thence amain?
No, Cuddie, no: thus resolve I,

Here have I lived, and here will Musgrove die.
[Exeunt.
Enter Lord BONFIELD, Sir GILBERT ARM-
STRONG, M. GRIME, and BETTRIS his Daugh

ter.

Bon. Now, gentle Grime, god a mercy for our good cheer,

4 Eat them, &c.-This incident bears so near a resemblance to a story related of Robert Greene, that it probably was taken from it. "Had he lived, Gabriel, and thou shouldst so unartificially and odiously libelled against him as thou hast done, he would have thee an example of ignominy to all ages that are to come, and driven thee to eate thy owne booke butterid, as I sawe him make an appariter once in a tavern eate his citation, waxe and all, very handsomely serv'd twixt two dishes."

NASH'S Apologie of Pierce Pennelesse, 4to. 1593.

In the Play of Sir John Oldcastle, the Sumner is compelled to eat his citation in like manner.

5 Strides a launce :-i, e. not to leave even a child of them alive, one who equitat in arundine longa. S. • Erst :-i. e. once, in former times. S,

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