18.8–59 Cf. Froissart, 331, ‘beholde here we sixe, who were burgesses of Calays and great marchantes: we have brought to you the kayes of the towne and of the castell and we submyt oure selfe clerely into your wyll and pleasure, to save the resydue of the people of Calays, … Sir, we beseche your grace to have mercy and pytie on us through your hygh nobles [noblesse]: than all the erles and barownes, and other that were there, wept for pytie. The kyng loked felly on theym, for greatly he hated the people of Calys, for the gret damages and dyspleasures they had done hym on the see before. Than he commaunded their heedes to be stryken of. Than every man requyred the kyng for mercy, but he wolde here no man in that behalfe’ (see Holinshed, 3.378).

  18.65–96 Cf. Froissart, 315, ‘Whan the kyng of Englande sawe the squyer, he toke hym by the hande and sayde, A welcome my squyer, that by your valyantnesse hath taken myne adversary, the kyng of Scottes. The squyer kneled downe and sayde, Sir, yf God by his grace have suffred me to take the king of Scottes by true conquest of armes, sir, I thynke no man ought to have any envy thereat, for as well God may sende by his grace suche a fortune to fall to a poore squyer, as to a great lorde; and sir, I requyre your grace be nat myscontent with me, though I dyde nat delyver the kynge of Scottes at the commaundement of the quene. Sir, I holde of you, as myne othe is to you, and nat to her but in all good maner. The kyng sayd, Johan, the good servyce that ye have done and your valyantnesse is so moche worthe, that hit must countervayle your trespasse and be taken for your excuse, and shame have they that bere you any yvell wyll therfore. Ye shall retourne agayne home to your house, and thane my pleasure is that ye delyver your prisoner to the quene my wyfe, and in a rewarde I assigne you nere to your house, where as ye thynke best yourselfe, fyve hundred pounde sterlyng of yerely rent to you and to your heyres for ever, and here I make you squyer for my body’ (also Holinshed, 3.376).

  18.216–35 Cf., e.g., Piers Penniless (Nashe, 1.212–15) and Thomas Heywood, An Apology for Actors (1612; quoted in Irving Ribner, The English History Play in the Age of Shakespeare (rev. edn, Worcester, Mass., and London, 1965), 277). In the 1620s, Massinger, in The Roman Actor, could still put into the mouth of the actor Paris a speech on inculcation of the ‘desire of honour’; particularly apposite are lines 1.3.70–83, ‘if to inflame / The noble youth with an ambitious heate / T’indure the frosts of danger, nay of Death / To be thought worthy the triumphall wreath / By glorious vndertakings, may deserue / Reward, or fauour, from the common wealth, / Actors may put in for as large a share / As all the sects of the Philosophers. / They with could precepts (perhaps seldome reade) / Deliver what an honourable thing / The actiue vertue is. But does that fire / The bloud, or swell the veines with emulation / To be both good, and great, equall to that / Which is presented on our Theaters?’ (see Edwards & Gibson, 3.31).

  18.243 The cadence of the line may be echoed by Richard Johnson, in his description of the feast provided for the royal party and the captives by Henry Picard, Mayor of London, in 1357: ‘Henrie Picard Maior. 1357. did in one day sumptuously feast at his owne charge 4 Kings, 3 Princes, and one Queene: which was, Edward the third King of England, Iohn King of Fraunce, Dauid King of Scots, & the King of Cypresse, then all in England: the blacke Prince, his Princesse, and the Dolphin Prince of France, with many other noble men, and kept his Hall open for all commers to reuell and dice in’ (The Pleasant Walks of Moorfields (1607), sig. C3r; cf. Johnson’s earlier verse line on the same subject in The nine worthies of London (1592), sig. C3v: ‘Foure kings, one prince, and all their royall traine’).

  APPENDIX 1

  Edward III: Early Reception

  This appendix gathers early evidence relating to knowledge of Edward III, within a decade of its appearance in print, and of early ownership of the first quarto. Charles Lamb’s inclusion of passages in his Specimens of English Dramatic Poets, though of much later date, is added by way of comparison with Bodenham’s Bel-vedére.

  1. DELONEY’S BALLAD

  Thomas Deloney’s ballad of ‘King Edward and the Countess of Salisbury’ survives only in posthumous reprints of his two ballad collections, The Garland of Good Will (1628) and Strange Histories (1608), each of which is now known from a single copy. The ballad would appear to derive from the printed text of Edward III (rather than from recollection of the play in performance): there is a clustering and fairly regular sequence of echoes of the play and verbatim quotations from it. It seems reasonable to assume, therefore, that it was added to an early reprint of The Garland (entered in the Stationers’ Register in 1593), no longer surviving, but printed after 1596.1 Further confirmation of a date of composition between 1596 and Deloney’s death in 1599 is offered by the ballad preceding it in The Garland, whose subject is the sack of Cadiz by the Earl of Essex in June 1596 (see Wiggins, 228/952). This ballad also echoes verbatim a four-word refrain from Edward III, ‘Fight and be valiant’ (sig. G8r; E3 6.184, 191, 197, 203). It therefore seems likely that the two ballads were written close together sometime after June 1596, and added to The Garland later (both appear in the third and final part of the collection in the 1628 edition). It is printed here from the earliest surviving edition, the 1608 Strange Histories (held in Sir Walter Scott’s library at Abbotsford), with collation of the 1628 edition of The Garland (held in the Beinecke Library at Yale) printed in square brackets. Omitting many minor variants, only verbal variants of some interest are collated. Marginal line references are to the text of Edward III; phrases in bold type derive directly from the play. See also p. 224. The ballad appears in sigs D8v–E4r, printed in black letter with incidental roman, the latter shown here in italic. Turned letters and erroneous spacing have been silently corrected.

  Of Edward the third and the faire Coun.

  tesse of Salisbury, setting forth her

  constancie and endles glory.

  WHen King Edward the third did liue,

  that valiant King:

  Dauid of Scotland to rebell,

  10.40

  did then begin.

  The towne of Barwicke suddenly,

  1.128

  from vs he won:

  And burnt Newcastle to the ground,

  thus strife begun.

  To Rokesborrow [Rosbury] castle marcht he then,

  1.130ff.

  And by the force of Warlike men,

  besiedged therein a gallant faire Lady:

  While that her husband was in Fraunce,

  His countries honour to advaunce,

  the Noble and famous Earle of Shrewesbury. [Salisbury]

  Braue Sir William Mountague,

  1.121ff.

  rode then in poste,

  Who declared vnto the King,

  the Scotsmennes hoast.

  Who like a Lyon in a rage,

  did straight prepare.

  For to deliuer that faire Lady,

  from wofull care.

  But when the Scots men did hear say,

  2.56

  Edward our king was come that day,

  they raised their siedge and ran away with speed.

  2.73ff.

  So that when he did thither come,

  With warlike trumpets fife and drum,

  none but a gallant Lady did him greete,

  Who when he did with greedy eyes,

  beholde and see:

  Her peereles beauty straight inthral’d,

  2.102–6

  his Maiestie.

  And euer the longer that he lookt

  the more he might,

  For in her onely beauty was,

  his harts delight.

  And humbly then vpon her knee,

  2.107

  She thankt his Royall Maiestie:

  2.110–12

  that thus had driuen daunger from her gate.

  Lady (quoth he) stand vp in peace,

  2.113–14

  Although my warre doth now increase,

  Lord keepe quoth she all hurt from your annoy [estate].

  2.127

  Now is the king full sad in soule,

  2.167ff.

  and wot not why,

  All for the loue of the faire Countesse,

  of Salsburie.

  She little knowing his cause of griefe,

  doth come to see:

  2.355ff.

  Wherefore his highnes sate, alone

  so heauily.2.366–8

  I haue beene wronged faire dame qd he

  2.365

  Since I came hither vnto thee.

  2.365

  now God for bid my Soueraigne she said.

  2.366–7

  If I were worthy for to know

  The cause and ground of this your woe,

  2.368

  it should be helpt, if it doe lie in me.

  2.370–1

  Sweare to performe thy words to me,

  2.375

  thou Lady gay:

  To thee the sorrow of my hart,

  I will bewray.

  I sweare by all the Saints in heauen,

  2.376

  I will quoth shee:

  And let my Lord haue no mistrust,

  at all in mee.

  Then take thy selfe aside he said,

  2.377

  And say thy beauty hath betraid,

  and wounded a king with thy bright shining eye

  If thou doe then some mercy show,

  Thou shalt expell a princes woe,

  so shall I liue or els in sorrow die.

  You haue your wish my Soueraigne Lord

  2.383

  effectually:

  Take all the loue that I may [can] giue,

  your Maiestie.

  But in thy beauty all my ioyes,

  2.394

  haue there abode:

  Take then my beauty from my face,

  2.388, 395

  my gratious Lord.

  Didst thou not sweare to graunt my wil:

  2.409

  All that I may I will fullfill.2.410

  then for my loue let thy true loue be seene.

  2.411–14

  My Lord your speech I might reproue,

  2.415–16

  You cannot giue to me your loue,

  2.417–18

  for that alone belongs vnto your Queene.

  But I suppose your grace did this,

  2.437–42

  onely to try,

  Whether a wanton tale might tempt

  2.440

  dame Salisbury.

  Not from your selfe therefore my leege,

  my steps doe stray:

  But from your tempting wanton tale,

  I goe my way.

  O turne againe thou Lady bright,

  Come vnto me my harts delight,

  gone is the comfort of my pensiue hart

  Here comes the Earle of Warwicke he,

  2.459

  The father of this faire Lady,

  my minde to him I meane for to impart.

  Why is my Lord and soueraigne King,

  2.461–2

  so greeued in minde:

  Because that I haue lost the thing,

  I cannot finde:

  What thing is that my gratious Lord.

  which you haue lost,

  It is my hart which is nere dead,

  twixt fire and frost.

  Curst be that frost [fire] and fire [frost] too,

  Which causeth thus your highnes woe,

  O Warwicke thou dost wrong me wondrous sore

  2.465ff.

  It is thy Daughter Noble Earle,

  2.508ff.

  That heauens bright lampe that peereles pearle.

  which kills my heart, yet doe I her adore.

  If that be all my gratious king.

  that workes your griefe.

  I will perswade that scornefull dame,

  to yeild reliefe.

  Neuer shall she my daughter be,

  if she refuse,

  The loue and fauour of a king,

  may her excuse.

  Thus wylie Warwicke went his way,

  And quite contrarie he did say,

  when as he did the beautious Countesse meete,

  Well met [met my] daughter deare quoth hee:

  a message I must do to thee:

  2.549ff.

  our Royall king most kindely doth thee greete.

  The king will die least thou to him,

  doe graunt thy loue,

  To loue the king my husbands loue.

  I should remoue.

  It is true [right] charitie to loue,

  2.527–30

  My daugter deare,

  But not true loue so charitably, [charitable]

  for to appeare.

  His greatnes may beare out the shame,

  But his kingdome cannot buy out the blame,

  he craues thy loue that may bereaue thy life,

  2.551–2

  It is my dutie to vrge thee this, [to moue this]

  2.531–2

  But not thy honestie to yeild i-wis,

  I meane to die a true vnspotted wife: [life.]

  Now hast thou spoke my daughter deare,2.596

  as I would haue?

  Chastitie beareth a golden name,

  2.622

  vnto her graue.

  And when vnto thy wedded Lord,

  thou proue vntrue,

  Then let my bitter curses still,

  2.621

  thy soule pursue,

  Then with a smiling cheere goe thou,

  3.100

  As right and reason doth allow,

  yet shew the king thou bearest no strumpets m< [mind]

  I goe deare father with a trice,

  And by a slight of fine deuise,

  Ile cause the king confesse that I am kinde.

  Here comes the Lady of my life,

  3.118

  the king did say:

  My father bids me soueraigne Lord,

  3.121–2

  your will obey.

  And I consent if you will graunt,

  3.132–4

  one boone to me,

  I graunt it thee my Ladie faire,

  3.135

  what ere it be:

  My husband is aliue you know,

  3.136–7

  First let me kill him ere you [I] goe,

  and at your commaund I will euer be,

  Thy husband now in France doth rest,

  No, no, he lies within my breast,

  3.173

  and being so nigh, he will my falshood see.

  With that she started from the king,

  3.167–85

  and tooke her knife,

  and desperately she sought to rid.

  her selfe of life:

  The king vpstarted from his chaire,

  her hand to stay:

  O noble king you haue broke your worde,

  with me this day:

  Thou shalt not doe this deede quoth he,

  Then will I neuer lie with thee:

  no, liue thou still and let me beare the blame.

  3.194–5

  Liue thou in honour and high estate,

  With thy true Lord and wedded mate,

  I neuer will attempt this sute againe.

  3.188–9

  2. THE PLAY OF ALICE PERRERS

  The play of ‘Alls Perce’ (i.e. Alice Perrers; alternative modernizations ‘Pierce’ or ‘Perris’) appeared in an inventory of playbooks purchased by Henslowe between ‘3d of March 1598’ and the summer or early autumn of that year. In the same batch of Henslowe papers – no longer extant – was an inventory list of the Admiral’s Men’s stock taken on 10 March 1598, which included a pair of bodices for ‘Alles Pearce’ (Foakes & Rickert, 319, 324). The play was in production during December 1597, as expenses in Henslowe’s Diary include advances made for taffeta and tinsel for a pair of bodices ‘for a womones gowne to playe allece perce’, for a pair of sleeves on 8 December, and for copper lace of silver for hose on 10 December (Foakes & Rickert, 73–4, 85). Likely events for dramatization took place between 1374 and 1377. They are recorded by Holinshed, and John Stow, Annals (1592). The play is listed number 1091 in Wiggins, and he conjectures the following plotline: