[In this essay, Bergeron closely examines Munday's Lord Mayors' Shows and explores their relation to stage plays.]

Out of an enormously varied and prolific career it was all but inevitable that Anthony Munday try his hand at Lord Mayors' Shows, and it is his spirit which broods over almost the entire Jacobean period. For his dramatic productions Munday had earned recognition from Francis Meres in Palladis Tamia where he is cited as being among ‘the best for comedy’ with the additional compliment that he is our ‘best plotter’. But Munday's interests eventually turn from the public to the pageant theatre and such things as his additions to Stow's Survey of London. Already we have noted his involvement with the final mayoralty pageant of the Elizabethan era and his authorship of an entertainment presented in 1610 in honour of Prince Henry's being made Prince of Wales. In the period 1602-23 Munday had a hand in the production of at least fifteen Lord Mayors' Shows, his participation ranging from merely submitting a proposal to being fully responsible for the pageant; and if we had more information about the Shows that took place in the last seven years of Elizabeth's reign, we might be able to assign even more to Munday's credit. Quantitatively, the indefatigable Munday is second to none in involvement in the Jacobean Lord Mayors' Shows; as such he gives us a good measure of its development and achievement.

For whatever the reason, Munday's pageant efforts seemed to provide a natural target for some of his fellow dramatists. The rivalry between Munday and Thomas Middleton got a bit heated; for example, Middleton sneered at Munday, the ‘impudent common writer’, in the prologue to the scenario of his 1613 Lord Mayor's Show, though Munday actually assisted him with the production as Middleton clearly indicates at the end of the text. Again in 1619, Middleton scoffs at those previous shows ‘wherein Art hath been but weakly imitated and most beggarly worded’. At best the collaboration between the two must have been uneasy. Munday was satirized in the character of ‘Post-haste’ in the play Histriomastix, but perhaps the earliest satirical allusion came in Ben Jonson's The Case Is Altered, in which Munday is caricatured in the figure of ‘Antonio Balladino’, Pageant Poet to the city of Milan.

In Jonson's play Antonio (alias Munday) appears in the second scene of Act I. In response to Onion's question—‘you are not Pageant Poet to the City of Millaine sir, are you?’—Antonio says: ‘I supply the place sir: when a worse cannot be had sir.’¹ Antonio further incriminates himself by coming out vigorously in favour of using stale, threadbare material. He tells Onion: ‘I do use as much stale stuffe, though I say it my selfe, as any man does in that kind I am sure.’ Jonson mocks Munday succinctly but skillfully.

Though Munday received £2 ‘for his paines’ for the 1604 Lord Mayor's Show for which guild records indicate that Ben Jonson was the apparent author of the entertainment,² it is the pageant of 1605 that is the first to survive in a printed text. This show, called The Triumphs of Re-United Britannia, sought to honour Sir Leonard Halliday, Merchant Taylor, the new mayor, and it is unique in at least two respects. It contains the only full-scale treatment of the popular Brutus-in-Albion myth of English history to be found in civic pageantry down to the closing of the theatres. This pageant has the further distinction of having been readied twice for performance, but the scheduled day, 29 October, was the occasion of a storm which did much damage to the preparations; thus upon request of the company ‘the same shewes were newe repaired, and caried abroade upon All Saincts day …’ (MSC, p. 69)—which partially accounts for the total expense of £710 2s. 5d. Two payments to Munday indicate much about the diverse duties usually assumed by the dramatist: he was given £38 for providing apparel for all the children in the ‘pageant, ship, lion, and camel, and for the chariot’, and £6 more for ‘printing the books of the speeches in the pageant and the other shows …’ (MSC, pp. 68-9). A ‘Mr Hearne’, a painter, received £75 ‘for making, painting, and gilding the pageant, chariot, lions, camel, and new painting and furnishing the ship, and for the furniture for both giants’ (p. 68). Here we get a glimpse of the increasingly important rôle of the artificer in the total production of such pageants, a subject discussed more fully in a later chapter. Also of considerable interest is the £10 paid to ‘88 porters for carrying the pageant, ship, and beasts’. This suggests that the devices in a typical Lord Mayor's Show were carried through the city rather than remaining stationary as was the common practice in the royal entry pageants.

The pageant itself opens with what amounts to a prologue to the several scenes or dramatic vignettes that follow; it is a conversation between the Master, Mate, and Boy of the ship ‘called the Royall Exchange’.³ Ostensibly they have just returned from a voyage where they have gathered rich spices and silks and are now struck by the tumult in London; and the Boy says with an implicit pun on the name of the new mayor: ‘Shall we do nothing, but be idle found, / On such a generall mirthfull Holyday?’ (sig. A4^v). Thus the Master orders that they disburse the goods aboard the ship so that they might ‘adde the very uttermost … / To make this up a cheerefull Holi-day’.

This opening prologue with its embedded allusion to the guild is succeeded by a mute scene involving the appearance of Neptune and his Queen Amphitrita seated upon a lion and camel. They are present, Munday says, because they ‘first seated their sonne Albion in this land’ (sig. B1). The dramatist explains further: ‘… in them we figure Poetically, that as they then triumphed in their sonnes happy fortune, so now they cannot chuse but do the like, seeing what happy successe hath thereon ensued, to renowne this Countrey from time to time’ (B1). This ‘dumb show’ prepares the way for the full dramatic treatment of Munday's theme of the renewal of unity under the present king, James. Present in this scene also are the mythical Corineus and Goemagot (also present at the Temple Bar in the 1559 royal entry), ‘appearing in the shape and proportion of huge Giants, for the more grace and beauty of the show’; they serve as guides to the main pageant device.

The chief stage is a ‘mount triangular’ which contains in the supreme place ‘under the shape of a fayre and beautifull Nymph, Britania hir selfe’ (sig. B1-B1^v). Seated beneath her is Brutus, and thus this scene becomes the thematic and dramatic centre for the entertainment with Munday's exploration of the Brutus myth. As we know, the pseudo-history of Brutus's settling of England was an important aspect of the ‘Tudor myth’ or Tudor interpretation of history, and the Elizabethans took the story quite seriously with just cause since such historians and chroniclers as Matthew Paris, Richard Grafton, John Stow, William Camden, and Holinshed had perpetuated the legend. Many literary works alluded to the story—one recalls the catalogue of British kings from Brutus to Uther Pendragon which Arthur finds in the ancient book ‘hight Briton Monuments’ at the House of Alma in canto x of Book II of Spenser's Faerie Queene. The most obvious example from the drama of the time is the play, of disputed authorship, called The Lamentable Tragedie of Locrine (c. 1595). Locrine, of course, was Brutus's eldest son, and the play rehearses the traditional story. Brutus's decision to divide his kingdom among his three sons and the consequences of that act are the heart of the story; similar situations are found in some of Brutus's descendants, such as Lear and Gorboduc, also the subjects of dramatic works. The beginning of Munday's 1605 text contains his effort to trace the history of Brutus back to Noah and the Flood; in addition he sketches Brutus's conquest of the island and the subsequent division of the kingdom among his sons.

The speeches for this scene are ‘delivered by the severall children, according to their degrees of seating in the Pageant’ (sig. B2^v). The figure Britannia complains that she would still be known as Albion but for the conquest of Brutus, who then responds by outlining the advantages that his conquest have brought: taming the wilderness, overcoming the giants in the land, and establishing Troynovant on the Thames. But Loegria, Cambria, and Albania, representing the three divisions of the kingdom, chide Brutus for his decision to sever the kingdom and they recount some of the consequences. To which Brutus responds with new hope that the separation of the land and the ‘Weeping so many hundred yeeres of woes’ shall be no more; his answer is tied to the present sovereign, James I:

Albania, Scotland, where my sonne was slaine
And where my follies wretchednes began,
Hath bred another Brute, that gives againe
To Britaine her first name, he is the man
On whose faire birth our elder wits did scan,
Which Prophet-like seventh Henry did forsee,
Of whose faire childe comes Britaines unitie.
And what fierce war by no meanes could effect,
To re-unite those sundred lands in one,
The hand of heaven did peacefully elect
By mildest grace, to seat on Britiaines throne
This second Brute, then whom there else was none.
Wales, England, Scotland, severd first by me:
To knit againe in blessed unity.

(sig. B3^v)

This exposition of James's claim to the throne and his reconciliation of the parts of the kingdom serve the dramatic theme of unity; thus while the Tudors may take credit for uniting the warring houses, James and the Stuart line reunify the severed kingdoms. There had been a suggestion of this rôle of James in the speech by Zeal at Fleet street in the royal entry pageant of 15 March 1604 (see Chapter Two).

After Brutus sketches this new union, his three sons, Locrine, Camber, Albanact, represented in the pageant, speak in turn and submit their kingdoms to the unification of the whole. The new day is hailed and applauded, and the one personating Troynovant ‘incites fair Thamesis, and the rivers that bounded the severed kingdoms, (personated in faire and beautifull Nymphs) to sing Paeans and songs of tryumph, in honor of our second Brute, Royall King James’ (sig. B2). So Thamesis, Severn, and Humber join in a universal song of praise of the sovereign. This ‘scene’ thus closes, having sounded the essential theme of the entertainment, that the kingdom must remain physically and spiritually one—a theme adumbrated throughout Shakespeare's history plays.

The next part of the entertainment celebrates the trade guild by presenting seven former kings—Edward III, Richard II, Henry IV, Henry V, Henry VI, Edward IV, and Henry VII—all connected in some way with the history of the company. They pass forth in a chariot which is preceded by Fame ‘that attends on Britaines Monarchy, / Thus reunited to one state againe …’ (sig. C1). Each figure speaks in turn revealing his contribution to the company's welfare. A vacant place is left in the chariot with the hope that James will eventually accept the freedom of the Merchant Taylors. Other pageant writers will continue this particular method of complimenting the company and the mayor.

The festivities close with the re-appearance of Neptune and Amphitrita, this time with speaking rôles. Neptune praises the king who has set ‘this wreath of Union’ on Britain's head, ‘Whose verie name did heavenlie comfort bring, / When in despaire our hopes lay drooping dead …’ (sig. C2). And Amphitrita suggests a graceful bridge between the Elizabethan and Jacobean eras:

Our latest Phaenix whose dead cinders shine,
In Angels spheres, she, like a mother milde,
yeelding to Nature, did her right resigne
To times true heyre, her God-son, and lov'de childe,
When giddy expectation was beguilde:
And Scotland yeelded out of Teudors race,
a true borne bud, to sit in Teudors place.

(sig. C3)

These two characters thus echo the earlier theme and praise of James. In the final speech Neptune directs his attention to the mayor offering a challenge and moral instruction, suggesting that there will be a true ‘holiday’ when Justice is dominant, when sin is punished, ‘When good provision for the poore is made, / Sloth set to labour, vice curbd every where …’ (sig. C4).

Most of the elements of the pageant serve to re-inforce one another with the historical legend of Brutus and its application to James providing the focus. Its significance is underscored by the ‘stage properties’; the prominence of Britiain's Mount with the attendant figures in appropriate costume. No other Lord Mayor's Show is centred quite so thoroughly on a single historical legend, and it helps provide a unifying structure for the show even if it is flagrantly propagandistic. Historical and mythological figures alike posit the importance of the new unity of the island, assuming, as surely Shakespeare did, that without such cohesiveness discord and civil strife would erupt. Clearly here is an example of the pageant theatre of the streets exploring themes common to the public stage just as the opening tableau in the coronation pageant of 1559 had established a precedent through the tangible genealogical tree of the Tudors and the spoken verses celebrating the end of civic strife. Only under conditions of political stability can Neptune's instruction to the new mayor be of much value.

To honour the mayor, Sir Thomas Campbell, Munday was engaged by the Ironmongers in 1609 to devise a pageant which he called Camp-bell or the Ironmongers Faire Field. Because unfortunately sheet A of the only extant text is missing, our knowledge of the entertainment is incomplete. Company records, however, provide considerable information and supplement Munday's pamphlet. We learn, for example, what was to have taken place on the river by the following entry: ‘A Whale with a Blackamore in his Mouth with Musick and casting water out of his ffynnes, and fyer out of his mouth and rowed private A Mer Mayd coming his tresses in a looking glass with lady Thamesis couched on his ffynes and each of them their speeches.’⁴ The Ironmongers' set up supervisors to guide the necessary preparations, all reminiscent of plans for other kinds of civic pageants, especially the royal entries. Munday, according to the records, was to be paid £45 for his services including providing apparel for the children and giving the company ‘500 bookes printed of the speeches …’ (MSC, p. 73).

In early November shortly after the performance of the pageant Munday was called before the Ironmongers' Court, and the following charges were made against him: ‘that the children weare not instructed their speeches which was a spetiall judgment of the consideration, then that the Musick and singinge weare wanting, the apparrell most of it old and borrowed, with other defects …’ (MSC, p. 76). There is no clearer example in civic pageantry of the discrepancy between the planning and the execution of a dramatic show, and one can only wonder how many times performances might have been faulty. Small surprise that Munday's plea for an additional £5 was denied later in November by the company. Perhaps anticipating such trouble, Munday writes in his text: ‘… our time for preparation hath bene so short, as never was the like undertaken by any before, nor matter of such moment so expeditiously performed.’⁵ He registers a further complaint about the ‘weake voyces’ of the children which ‘in a crowde of such noyse and uncivill turmoyle, are not any way able to be understood, neither their capacities to reach the full height of every intention, in so short a limitation for study, practise, and instruction’. Such excuses fell on deaf ears within the sponsoring company, however; it is interesting to learn that the guilds so zealously watched over the performances.

Unifying the pageant itself is Munday's allegorical presentation of the kingdom with the virtues that support it, a thematic motif present in a number of previous civic entertainments. Personifying the virtues necessary for a good government is at least as old as 1559, when Elizabeth was greeted by the ‘seat of worthy government’ situated at Cornhill and containing such virtues as Pure Religion, Love of Subjects, Wisdom, and Justice. Occupying Jonson's tableau on the arch at Fenchurch in the 1604 royal entry were similar virtues supporting Monarchia Britannica. Munday's main device is an island portraying the land of Happiness where ‘true Majesty holdeth her government …’ (sig. B1). It is richly garnished with all sorts of jewels, and in its midst is a golden field wherein is erected Majesty's watchtower. Here an idealistic, golden world is created, and Munday presumes upon the metaphorical relationship between this created microcosmic world and the real state.

All of the allegorical figures in this device are emblematically costumed, following the general practice of the pageant writers. Majesty, for example, ‘hath a costly vaile of golde Tinsell on her head, and thereupon her Crowne imperiall, a Mownd in her left hand, and a golden Scepter in her right’ (sig. B1). The figure of Religion is seated nearby; she is dressed in pure white and ‘holdes a rich Booke in one hand, and a silver rod in the other, as her Ensignes of good reward and encouragement …’ (B1). Nobility and Policy also accompany Majesty, and Munday comments: ‘These are not unapt attendants, to be ever in presence of Soveraigne Majestie’ (sig. B1^v). On the lowest level of this arrangement are Memory, holding a ‘Table Booke with a silver pen still ready to write’, and Vigilancy, carrying a ‘Bell and an houre Glasse …’ (B1^v). Seated behind Majesty is Tranquility, ‘that ever blessed Companyon of all Royall Kingdomes …’ (B1^v), dressed in red and carrying a palm branch in one hand and a wreath of flowers in the other.

The three Graces, already used by Peele in his 1591 Lord Mayor's Show and by other dramatists, are also present with the allegorical virtues. Munday assigns to the Graces, Aglaia, Thalia, and Euphrosyne, the qualities of Cheerfulness, Peacefulness and Happiness. They were dressed, respectively, in crimson, ‘willowe collour’, and purple. Munday adds another dimension to their meaning: Euphrosyne ‘sitteth in a golden Cave, holding a faire shield wherein Fame triumpheth over Death. The second [Thalia] holdes another Shield, wherein Eternity treadeth upon Hell and the Devill, and the first [Aglaia] hath her Shield, wherein Tyme sits sleeping, his houre glasse layd along and not running, and his Scithe broken in two peeces’ (sig. B2). Having the Graces carry emblematic shields is a technique that Munday may have borrowed from Thomas Dekker, who in King James's passage through London in 1604, had placed the Graces, appropriately costumed, at the pageant at Soper-lane End holding ‘in their handes pensild Shieldes; upon the first was drawne a Rose: on the second, three Dyce: on the third a branch of Mirtle. Figuring Pleasantnesse. Accord. Florishing’. For the pageant writer to borrow a basic device from someone else was not at all uncommon.

Accompanying the mayor and offering interpretation are the figures of St. George, mounted on a dragon, and St. Andrew, seated on a unicorn—‘united now in everlasting amitie’. Should there be any doubt of the allegorical import of this pageant, St. Andrew's words make the meaning quite explicit. He says as he surveys the scene: ‘Those seaven royall and unparalled Vertues, that are this lifes best glory, and the futures Crowne, do make it seeme a Feild of heavenly happiness’ (sig. B3). And he suggests that the seven virtues may foretell ‘seaven gladsome and fayre nourishing yeares of comfort. …’ St. George offers an interpretation of the pageant also and concludes on this instructive note: ‘But loyall hearts, spirits of courage, and hands inured to warre or peace, are the best walles about it [the island], as defensive against invading Envie, or homebred trecherie, as offensive to any hot spleene of Malignitie’ (sig. B3^v). Thus the speakers make a moral application of what has been visually displayed, a technique as old as civic pageantry itself. Having in his 1605 show illustrated the need for union of the kingdom, Munday in 1609 presents a visual and verbal statement of the virtues that ought to surround any government with the allegory clearly pointing to the commonwealth of Stuart England.

Though there is no extant text for the 1610 show, records of the Merchant Taylors' indicate that Munday was the author who along with the artificer Grinkin received over £200 for part of their services (MSC, p. 79). A boy was paid eight shillings for his representation of ‘Merlin in the Rock’, and that is about all we know of the nature of the pageant. Clearly it must have been an elaborate spectacle because the total cost exceeded £805. Fortunately there is a text for the 1611 Lord Mayor's Show which Munday wrote to honour Sir James Pemberton, Goldsmith; he calls the show Chruso-thriambos. The Triumphes of Golde. The records of the company reveal that John Lowen, actor of the King's Men, played the rôle of Leofstane in the pageant; thus he joins Burbage, who in the previous year had performed in Munday's show honouring Prince Henry, as a participant in civic pageantry. At such moments the line separating the regular stage from the street theatre is more diminished than usual. Lowen, himself a Goldsmith, agreed in conference with Munday to play the rôle and that he ‘should provide a horse and furniture for himselfe and the horse …’ (MSC, p. 81).

Placing the emphasis again on history, Munday presents former Lord Mayors who were vital to the history of the company—one recalls Nelson's use of William Walworth in the 1590 Lord Mayor's Show. Though the familiar tableau device is used again, it is of secondary importance with the principal significance of the entertainment residing in the ‘dramatic action’. The new mayor is rather directly involved with this action, and Munday provides a semblance of plot, at least more than had been in his previous shows.

The river entertainment and the land pageant both allude to the Goldsmiths. In fact, boats ostensibly filled with ingots of gold and silver accompany the mayor on his journey on the Thames. An Indian king and queen, Chiorison and Tumanama, are also present, having ‘brought into England … no meane quantity of Indian Gold. …’⁶ On land they are mounted on ‘two Golden Leopardes, that draw a goodly triumphal Chariot’. Munday describes the nature of the main device: ‘On a Quadrangle frame, of apt constructure, and answerable strength, we erect a Rocke or Mount of Golde, in such true proportion, as Art can best present it …’ (sig. A4). This mount contains various persons performing the tasks of mining and refining the metal, and near the top is Chthoon or Vesta, ‘the breeding and teeming Mother of al Golde, Silver, Mineral, and other Mettals …’ (sig. A4^v). On her right hand sits her daughter Chursos (Gold) and on the left Argurion (Silver) linked to her ‘Chaire of State with a Chaine of Gold …’ (sig. B1). Attending them are ‘two beautifull Ladies’, Antiquity and Memory. While this pageant clearly refers to the guild and its mythological heritage, no particular instructional purpose is served.

But our interest is with the other figures and other activities of the entertainment. The new mayor, Pemberton, is met at Baynard's Castle by Leofstane, a Goldsmith, by whose person Munday means to portray Sir Henry Fitz-Alwin, the first Lord Mayor of London. After a speech of welcome, Leofstane leads the mayor to a tomb, and they see there also a chariot which contains figures representing Richard I and King John, both of whom were largely responsible for instituting and establishing the office of Lord Mayor. History has come, as it were, to lend its sanction to the activities of the day.

The chief dramatic action occurs at the tomb where Leofstane encounters Time, a familiar figure in civic pageantry or in Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale, who develops a history of the Lord Mayors, especially those Goldsmiths who have served as mayor. Time asserts that he is the one who has brought Leofstane to this moment and asks: ‘As thus I turne my Glasse to Times of old, / So tune thine eares to what must now be told’ (sig. B3). He further reviews the establishment of the office of mayor during the reigns of kings Richard I and John. Finally, Time reveals that in the tomb lies one Nicholas Faringdon, four times Lord Mayor, and he calls him forth: ‘Arise, arise I say, good Faringdon, / For in this triumph thou must needs make one’ (sig. B3^v). The ‘resurrection’ is completed in this ‘stage direction’: ‘Time striketh on the Tombe with his Silver wand, and then Faringdon ariseth’ (B3^v). Munday breaks down the notion of a still-life tableau with such action and thereby brings us further in the direction of a meaningful dramatic action.

When Faringdon responds to the beckoning call of Time, he is clearly puzzled: ‘Cannot graves containe their dead, / Where long they have lien buried, / But to Triumphs, sports, and showes / They must be raisd?’ (sig. B4); but Time explains what the occasion is and Faringdon is delighted: ‘To heare the tale that Time hath told, / Since those reverend daies of old, / Unto this great Solemnity …’ (B4^v). As the three figures move throughout the city, they address the new mayor, Leofstane giving a long explanation of the device of the Mount of Gold. Finally the entertainment closes with speeches that night at the mayor's gate where Leofstane dwells on the meaning of Pemberton's name, and Time asserts ‘that such a goodly name, / Requires bright actions, from pollution free, / In word and deede to be alike …’ (sig. C3^v). But it is the newly arisen Faringdon speaking with the authority of one who has visited the land of the dead who closes the event with challenging and instructive words:

You are a Gold-Smith, Golden be
Your daily deedes of Charitie.
Golden your hearing poore mens cases,
Free from partiall bribes embraces.
And let no rich or mighty man
Injure the poore, if helpe you can.
The World well wots, your former care
Forbids ye now to pinch or spare,
But to be liberal, francke, and free,
And keepe good Hospitality,
Such as beseemes a Maioraltie,
Yet far from prodigality.

(sig. C4)

In effect Faringdon urges the new mayor to follow Aristotle's golden mean (all the more appropriate since he is a Goldsmith). In a sense the pageant thus moves from the abstract to the concrete: from the misty regions of the Mount of Gold to representations of actual historical figures called forth by Time to the closing pointedly moral advice which applies concretely to the new mayor, James Pemberton. In short, the allegorical method of giving the intangible idea concrete form is at work.

In 1612 Thomas Dekker was chosen as the one to prepare the Lord Mayor's Show, and in 1613, Thomas Middleton (both discussed in following chapters). But in 1614 Munday's fellow Drapers called upon him to direct the pageant for the installation of Sir Thomas Hayes. The show, which Munday called Himatia-Poleos. The Triumphes of Olde Draperie,⁷ does not differ markedly from his earlier pageants. Company records are scant and provide little supplementary material. At the end of his text, however, Munday singles out the work of Rowland Bucket and offers praise to this ‘exact and skilfull Painter …’ (pp. 18-19). This is the first time in one of his texts that Munday grants the artificer such recognition. A considerable portion of the first part of the pamphlet is spent in apologizing for having been led astray by Stow to call Henry Fitz-Alwin (Leofstane) a Goldsmith in the 1611 show when he was in reality a Draper. Appropriately, then, Fitz-Alwin is again represented in the 1614 pageant honouring the Drapers.

In addition to Fitz-Alwin Munday includes another former mayor, Sir John Norman, a mayor in the mid-fifteenth century and allegedly the first to go to Westminster by barge. Munday places him on the water in a boat ‘with the seaven liberall Sciences (all attired like graceful Ladies) sitting about him …’ (p. 8). Norman greets the mayor with a speech and later assists in explaining the devices of the show. There is also a group of ‘sweet singing youths, … each having a silver Oare in his hand’ who ‘sing a most sweet dittie of Rowe thy Boate Norman, and so seeme to rowe up along to Westminster, in honour of our Lord Maiors attendance’ (p. 10). These former mayors lend their blessing to the festivities and also remind the new mayor of some of his noble predecessors.

Fitz-Alwin is situated with several other figures in a chariot, ‘drawen by two golden pelletted Lyons, and two golden Woolves’ (p. 6). The person of Richard I is also represented; he is surrounded by personified figures of several English cities. ‘Those Citties are disciphered by their Eschuchions of Armes, and that their best advantage ever ensued by making of woolen Cloathes, for the continuall maintenance of Englands Draperie’ (pp. 6-7). Munday does not enumerate which cities are so represented except London, ‘sitting neerest unto himselfe [Richard], as chiefe Mother and matrone of them all’ (p. 7). London wears a triple crown of gold, ‘under battelled or branched with Cloudes, and beames of the Sunne, being the Armes of the Drapers Societie …’ (p. 7). It was not uncommon for the pageant writer to personify a city—Peele in one of his shows presents London as does Middleton in his 1613 pageant. In his speech to the mayor Fitz-Alwin sets forth the illustrious past of the company.

Munday also uses a mount which represents ‘the whole estate of Londons olde Draperie’. In the most eminent place sits ‘Himatia, or Cloathing, as Mother, Lady and commaundresse of all the rest, who by their distinct emblemes and properties … doe expresse their dutie and attendance on so gratious a person …’ (p. 7). Several figures are shown industriously performing the various functions of preparing woollen clothes. Also ‘Peace, Plentie, Liberalitie, Councell and Discreet Zeale, doe supporte the florishing condition of Himatiaes Commonwealth, and strive to prevent all occasions which may seeme sinister or hurtfull thereto’ (pp. 7-8). Unfortunately, Munday does not describe these allegorical personages, but we can safely assume that they were emblematically costumed.

As a final event a ‘goodly Ramme or Golden Fleece’ appears with a Shepherd sitting by it, and the Shepherd addresses the mayor. The Golden Fleece was commonly associated with the Drapers' Company, and Munday will develop the Jason-Golden Fleece story in succeeding pageants. The closing speech of the entertainment gives the usual charge to the mayor to prepare for ‘envies stormes’ and to practice ‘vertue, zeale, and upright heed …’ (p. 17). On the whole the pageant is a rather feeble echo of Munday's preceding show of 1611, displaying little of its inherent dramatic interest.

The Drapers succeeded again in 1615 in selecting the mayor, this time Sir John Jolles, and Munday was asked to devise the entertainment which he called Metropolis Coronata, The Triumphes of Ancient Drapery. History, moral allegory, and mythology all help shape the pageant. Again, company records yield little useful information.

The presentation on the Thames is the most elaborate of any of Munday's water shows to date. The first device on the river is a boat that carries Jason and his companions, Hercules, Telamon, Orpheus, Castor, Pollux, Calais, and Zethes. They are seated around him ‘attired in faire guilt Armours, bearing triumphall Launces, wreathed about with Lawrell, Shields honoured with the Impresse of the Golden fleece, and their heads circled with Lawrell, according to the manner of all famous Conquerors’.⁸ Much of the attention is directed to Medea, ‘whose love to Jason, was his best meanes for obtaining the Golden fleece’ (sig. A3^v-A4). To illustrate the ‘fiery zeale of her affection towards him, she sitteth playing with his love-lockes, and wantoning with him in all pleasing daliance …’ (sig. A4). The boat is rowed ‘by divers comely Eunuches, which continually attended on Medea, and she favouring them but to passe under the fleece of Golde, had all their garments immediately sprinkled over with golde. …’

The second device on the river is another barge, this one in the shape of a whale (one recalls similar constructions in some of the Elizabethan progress pageants) and containing the figures of Neptune and Thamesis. Not surprisingly, the redoubtable and seemingly ubiquitous Henry Fitz-Alwin is also represented in the boat. In fact, seated around him are ‘eight royall Vertues’ bearing the ‘ensignes’ of former Drapers who served as mayor. Crowded in also are the allegorical figures of ‘Fame triumphing in the top, and Time guiding the way before’ (sig. A4^v). In a lengthy speech Fitz-Alwin salutes the mayor, offers interpretation of the water pageant and suggests a ‘morall application’ of what is displayed:

Your Honour may make some relation
Unto your selfe out of this storie,
You are our Jason, Londons glorie,
Now going to fetch that fleece of Fame,
That ever must renowne your name. …
No Monsters dare confront your way.

(sig. B1^v)

The new mayor is to consider that ‘all this faire and goodly Fleete’ do attend upon him and offer their services to him. By moral analogy he becomes linked with the mythical Jason and may draw strength from that association.

The first device which greets the mayor on land after his return from Westminster is another ship, ‘stiled by the Lord Maiors name, and called the Joell, appearing to bee lately returned, from trafficking Wool and Cloth with other remote Countryes …’ (sig. B2^v). Guiding the ‘Chariot of Mans Life’ is Time, who, though not having a dramatic function as in 1611, describes this chariot which contains a globe supported by the four Elements, emblematically costumed, and which runs on seven wheels ‘describing the seven ages of man …’ (sig. B4). The chief pageant, which provided the name of the entertainment, is the Monument of London, which includes the figure of London, ‘The ancient Mother of the whole Land’, and her Twelve Daughters—i.e., the Twelve Companies of London. Raised about London ‘as supports to Londons flourishing happinesse, and continuance of the same in true tranquillitie’ are four ‘goodly Mounts’ bearing ‘Emblemes of those foure especiall qualities, which make any Commonwealth truly happy’ (B4)—Learned Religion, Military Discipline, Navigation, and Homebred Husbandry. This may call to mind the figure of Majesty in the 1609 show and the virtues that surrounded her. It is also reminiscent of Middleton's London's Triumphant Mount from his 1613 mayoral pageant. Munday is again preoccupied with the well-being of the commonwealth and the virtues that are conducive to it.

The festivities of the day concluded with the appearance of a figure from English pseudo-history, Robin Hood. He was accompanied by a number of his men ‘all clad in greene, with their Bowes, Arrowes and Bugles, and a new slaine Deere carried among them’ (sig. B3). At the close of the sixteenth century Munday had written two plays dealing with the subject of Robin Hood: The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntingdon and The Death of Robert Earl of Huntingdon (the latter written in collaboration with Henry Chettle). Munday suggests a reason, though historically inaccurate, for Robin Hood's appearance: he is son-in-law by marriage to none other than Henry Fitz-Alwin.⁹ Robin Hood and his men talk and sing, and finally Robin Hood speaks to the new mayor:

Since Graves may not their Dead containe,
Nor in their peacefull sleepes remaine,
But Triumphes and great Showes must use them,
And we unable to refuse them;
It joyes me that Earle Robert Hood,
Fetcht from the Forrest of merrie Shirwood,
With these my Yeomen tight and tall,
Brave Huntsmen and good Archers all:
Must in this joviall day partake,
Prepared for your Honours sake.

(sig. C1^v)

The mayor has been duly welcomed by these figures out of the mythical past: Jason and Robin Hood, and Fitz-Alwin adds his voice as one representing former days; it is thus appropriate that Time should also be present. But Munday fails to achieve much thematic unity here, there being little connection between the various aspects of the pageant; those pageants that make the greatest claim on our interest in them as drama convey a sense of integrity and wholeness—missing here in the episodic tableaux of this show. The most skilful pageant-dramatists let instruction and compliment serve their artistic and dramatic purposes, thus rising above the simplest demands of civic drama, as Munday himself demonstrates in the following pageant.

Munday continues his monopoly on the Lord Mayor's Show again in 1616 when he prepared Chrysanaleia: The Golden Fishing to honour John Leman, Fishmonger. It is clearly one of his best productions with considerable thematic unity and a significant dramatic action. In December 1616, Munday appeared before the court of the company asking for an additional £10 in ‘gratification’ for the two hundred extra books which he had and for some spoiling of the costumes, and the court decided ‘that he shall have v^li xv^s gyven unto him which he is content thankfully to accept in full satisfaction of all his demaundes' (MSC, p. 91). Considerable interest is added to this civic pageant by the magnificent contemporary drawings preserved by the Fishmongers' company—the most extensive set of such drawings for any Lord Mayor's Show down to the closing of the theatres and comparable in value to the drawings of the 1604 royal entry. These pictures confirm the rich visual spectacle described by Munday.¹⁰ …

Honouring the company is the first device which is used both on water and on land; it is appropriately a fishing boat called the ‘Fishmongers Esperanza, or Hope of London. …’¹¹ … It may pass, Munday says, ‘for the fishing Busse, wherein Saint Peter sate mending his Nets, when his best Master called him from that humble and lowly condition, and made him a Fisher of men’ (sig. B1^v). But if this be a bit far fetched, we may take the boat for one of the ordinary vessels that daily ‘enricheth our kingdome with all variety of fish the Sea can yeelde …’ (B1^v). In the boat are a number of fishermen ‘seriously at labour’ drawing in their nets filled with fish and ‘bestowing them bountifully among the people’.

Continuing the allusion to the guild is the device of a dolphin; and because it is ‘a Fish inclined much (by nature) to Musique’, Arion rides on its back, himself having been ‘saved so from death, when Robbers and Pirates on the Seas, would maliciously have drowned him’ (B1^v). Arion and the dolphin had earlier appeared in an Elizabethan Lord Mayor's Show and at the famous pageant at Kenilworth in 1575.

The next pageant contains ‘an especiall Morality’ and has considerable symbolic interest. It presents a lemon tree (pun on the mayor's name) ‘in full and ample forme, richly laden with the fruite and flowers it beareth’, and at its root ‘a goodly Pellicane hath built her nest, with all her tender brood about her’ (B2). … Fully aware of the traditional symbolic meanings of the pelican, Munday draws an analogy between it and the new mayor: ‘An excellent type of government in a Magistrate, who, at his meere entrance into his yeares Office, becommeth a nursing father of the Family: which, though hee bred not, yet, by his best endevour, hee must labour to bring up’ (B2). The mayor truly answers the emblematic meaning if ‘his brest and bowels of true zeale and affection, are alwaies open, to feed and cherish them. …’ In short, the mayor is urged to exercise love and compassion in discharging his duties, the mute testament of this device. In addition, the Five Senses ‘in their best and liveliest representations’ are present because the lemon tree is conducive to restoring and comforting man's senses.

The dramatic and thematic centre of the entertainment is contained in the device of ‘a goodly Bower, shaped in forme of a flowrie Arbour’ which stands in St. Paul's churchyard. Within this Bower is a Tomb whereon rests the figure of Sir William Walworth, twice Lord Mayor in the fourteenth century and also a participant in Nelson's 1590 Lord Mayor's Show. … The whole conceit, Munday says, ‘aimeth at that tempestuous and troublesome time of King Richard the Second’ (sig. B2^v)—specifically the Jack Straw-Wat Tyler rebellion. The body of Walworth is attended by five knights who assisted him in protecting the king and defeating the rebels. London's Genius, ‘a comely Youth, attired in the shape of an Angell, with a golden Crowne on his head, golden Wings at his backe, bearing a golden Wand in his hand, sits mounted on Horsebacke by the Bower …’ (sig. B3). The arrival of the new mayor translates this tableau into action.

The Genius speaks to Walworth: ‘Thou Image of that worthy man. / … Though yet thou sleep'st in shade of death; / By me take power of life and breath’ (sig. B4^v). A note in the margin of the text describes the action: ‘Here the Genius strikes on him with his wand, whereat he begins to stir, and comming off the Tombe, looks strangely about him.’ With this and the several blasts of trumpets Walworth is ‘resurrected’, all in the pattern of Faringdon in Munday's 1611 show. In his speech Walworth takes note of his company's history and the occasion that brings the present festivity. The legend of Walworth who ‘manfully defended and preserved’ the crown epitomizes the celebration of the guild as in a dramatic revival he comes forth to lend his presence as a tangible reminder of the glorious heritage of the company.

Munday continues his allusion to the Walworth story in the last device of the entertainment, a chariot ‘drawne by two Mare-men, and two Mare-mayds …’ (sig. B3^v). … In the highest place of eminence sits ‘the triumphing Angell, who that day smote the enemy by Walworths hand, and laid all his proud presuming in the dust’. With one hand the angel holds on the crown of King Richard, who is seated beneath her, ‘that neither forraine Hostilitie, nor home-bred Trecherie should ever more shake it’; in the other hand she holds a striking rod, signifying: ‘By mee Kings reigne, and their enemies are scattered’ (sig. B3^v). The forefront of the chariot is populated with Royall Virtues, ‘as Truth, Vertue, Honor, Temperance, Fortitude, Zeale, Equity, Conscience, beating down Treason and Mutinie’ (sigs. B3^v-B4). The moral (and political) conflict between virtue and vice is suggested by these allegorical characters, and the arrangement reminds us of similar tableaux in both the 1559 and 1604 royal entries in London. On the rear and sides of the chariot sit other personified virtues: Justice, Authority, Law, Vigilancy, Peace, Plenty, and Discipline, ‘as best props and pillers to any Kingly estate’ (sig. B4). Munday adds that these figures ‘are best observed by their severall Emblems and properties, borne by each one, and their adornments answerable to them in like manner’. Here, as in other shows, Munday represents allegorically the virtues vital to a government's welfare. By implication Walworth champions the cause of virtue in its struggle against political and moral vice.

In the afternoon when the mayor returns to St. Paul's, all the devices are placed near the Little Conduit in Cheapside, and there they are described and interpreted by Walworth who helps make explicit what has been symbolically implied. For example, he notes that the pelican ‘speakes ingeniously / The Character of your authoritie: / … fostring her brood: / Though with the deare expence of her owne blood’ (sig. C3). Referring to his own valorous deeds, Walworth says: ‘I made them [the rebels] stand, / And, in my Soveraigns sight, there I strooke dead / Their chiefest Captaine and commanding head’ (sig. C3). In similar fashion all the elements of the pageant are explicated. The festivities close with a graciously poetic speech again by Walworth spoken at night which begins: ‘Phoebus hath hid his golden head / In Thetis lappe. And now are spred / The sable Curtaines of the night, / Our Evenings purpose to delight’ (sig. C4). The metaphor of marriage is developed also, suggesting that this day marks the wedding of the mayor to London. Finally Walworth offers a type of benediction: ‘May your Fame, / Crowne still their ancient worthie name / To all posteritie’ (C4).

Munday has adopted the structural movement from the abstract to the concrete again—generally characteristic of his best efforts. He gains additional unity by having every element of the entertainment refer to the Fishmongers in some way. The examples of the fishing boat and Arion on a dolphin allude to the company and imply something of the industry and dignity of the guild. Symbolizing the charity and compassion that ought to prevail is the lemon tree-pelican device. Through the dramatic resurrection of Walworth and the concluding chariot we gain a realistic, actual example of strength and courage that should be imitated. This glorious incident from the history of the company also carries ramifications regarding the preservation of the state, a constant thematic concern of Munday's.

Middleton won out in the competition for the 1617 show, but Dekker and Munday both received ‘consolation prizes’; Munday got £5 ‘for his paines in drawing a project for this busynes which was offered to the Comyttees’ (MSC, p. 93). This illustrates the competitive nature of the Lord Mayor's pageants. Nevertheless, in 1618 Munday devised the show for the Ironmongers' honouring Sir Sebastian Harvey, and he named it Sidero-Thriambos or Steel and Iron Triumphing. The company records are rather generous with information concerning the preparations for the pageant and the dealings with Munday and his associates. Apparently all were pleased with the performance, for on 2 November we find this entry: ‘In Consideration of Anthony Mundyes good performance of his business undertaken and of spoyling of his Pageant apparaile by the foule weather it was agreed to give him three powndes as a free guift of the Companie besides and above the Contract’ (MSC, p. 96). John Grinkin, familiar for his participation in the production of earlier pageants, is included among those who assisted with the show. So is Munday's son, Richard,¹² and the distinguished career of Gerard Christmas as artificer has its beginning here (discussed in a later chapter). The total cost of £523. 11s. 9d. is a bit low considering that the show of 1617 cost over £882. There is an interesting historical footnote to this pageant: Sir Walter Raleigh's execution was placed on the same day as the Lord Mayor's Show Aubrey says, so ‘that the pageants and fine shewes might drawe away the people from beholding the tragoedie of the gallants worthies that ever England bred’ (MSC, p. xlii)—a certain testimony to the popularity of these street entertainments.

In keeping with the company that is being honoured, Munday constructs for the first device an island which has on it a mine. ‘Therein Mulciber, the God of Mynes and Mettals … sheweth his personall attendance, with divers of his one-eyed Cyclops about him.’¹³ These figures are actively engaged in the various mining processes. At the four corners of the isle are four ‘beautifull Nymphes or Graces’ named ‘Chrusos, Argurion, Calcos and Sideros, figuring the foure ages of the world, and habited according to their true Carracters and natures’ (sig. B1^v). Though the Golden Age, Silver Age, and Bronze Age each formerly held sway, they have now given way to the Iron Age, which Munday says parenthetically is the age ‘wherein wee live’. It is interesting to speculate that perhaps Munday was influenced by Thomas Heywood's series of plays on the four ages of the world which were written between 1611 and 1613. Jupiter is also present on the island, ‘mounted upon his Royall Eagle, with his three-forked Thunderbolt in his hand …’ (sig. B2)—a description that corresponds with Jupiter's appearance in Shakespeare's Cymbeline. In the pageant he wears a suit of armour that had originally been intended for Mars but is given to him by Mulciber ‘because hee so graciously vouchsafed, to bee personally present in this Triumph, as Patron of all their pains, and protector from foule-mouthed slander and detraction’ (sig. B2). The presence of Jupiter, the highest of the gods, is a personal compliment to the mayor. Furthermore, he embodies the allegorical concept of Protection. A conversation between a Master Gunner and his Mate at the Cannon located near the mine celebrates the achievements of the Ironmongers’.

An ancient British Bard guides the way to the Mount of Fame, the second principal device of the show. Obviously in the most eminent place on this mount is the allegorical figure of Fame, ‘seeming as if shee sounded her Golden Trumpet, the Banner whereof, is plentifully powdred with Tongues, Eyes and Eares: implying, that all tongues should be silent, all eyes and eares wide open, when Fame filleth the world with her sacred memories’ (B4). Fame shows the mayor the other personages which accompany her ‘for more honourable solemnity of this generall Triumph; presaging a happy and successfull course to his yeare of government’ (sig. B4). Munday is drawing on a long and extensive use of Fame in the civic pageantry before this show. Here Fame stands as a reminder that the leaders of state must perpetuate the noble heritage from which they have come, for Fame with her eyes and tongues will pass on to future generations a record of the conduct of the magistrate.

The figure of Expectation sits below Fame on the right and suggests ‘that there will be more then ordinary matter expecte from him …’ (B4^v). Hope sits on the other side, and reminds the mayor that his father had also once been mayor and ‘left such sensible instructions to his Sonne, as cannot but edge his temper the more keenely, and quicken his spirits the more industriously’ (sig. B4^v). Justice and Fortitude are also present, treading down the figures of Ambition, Treason, and Hostility, ‘which seeke the subversion of all estates …’ (sig. C1). And to assist the mayor in his struggles against these vices, ‘they sit gyved, and manacled together in Iron shackles, purposely made and sent from the Ironmongers Myne, to binde such base villaines to their better behaviour’ (sig. C1). Munday thereby connects the two main devices of the show.

There is a final group of personages situated on this Mount of Fame. Fame's two ‘sober Sisters’, Fear and Modesty, are present, ‘both vailed, but so sharpe-sighted, that they can discerne through the darkest obscurities, when any disorder threatneth danger to Majesty, or to his carefull Deputie’ (sig. C1-C1^v). Should the two become aware of any danger, they inform Vigilancy and Providence, who sit close by. These in turn awake Care ‘to ring the Bell in the Watch-Tower’, which in turn calls forth Courage and Counsel, ‘that every one may have imploiment, for safe preserving the Mount of Fame’ (sig. C1^v). These Virtues will readily aid the mayor as he faces the sundry trials of his office. The allegorical message to the magistrate is unmistakable: he must summon forth these different virtues to bear him up in the unstinting conflict with vice.

In deliberately archaic style the Bard addresses the new mayor in the afternoon as he goes to St. Paul's, and he holds out this hope: ‘Honor, Heale and Happinesse, / Give aw yer actions gud successe’ (sig. C3). Similarly at night the Bard gives his ‘parting’ to the mayor: ‘That Justice, Zeale and Payetie, / Mayne shine in yee with Mejesty, / That he wha puts yee in thilke trust, / Mey finde yer rule sa true and just …’ (C3^v). Missing in this pageant is the sense of action contained in the previous show of 1616; instead the allegorical tableau is the chief means of expressing the themes with the Bard's speeches being set pieces rather than action punctuating the still-life scene.

One of Munday's comments in this pamphlet is worth attention, for in it he sets forth a veritable ars poetica for the pageant-dramatist. He writes: ‘For better understanding the true morality of this devise, the personages have all Emblemes and Properties in their hands, and so neere them, that the weakest capacity may take knowledge of them; which course in such solemne Triumphes hath alwaies beene allowed of best observation …’ (sig. C1^v). Munday realizes that he is working with a plastic art creating a tableau vivant, and the visual element is essential. There is little time for dramatic development, and yet the allegory must be understood readily: hence the emblematic method. At times it is as if some of these figures in civic pageants have merely stepped from the pages of the popular emblem books, a subject discussed fully in a later chapter.

Munday's last contribution to civic pageantry came in 1623 in the form of the water show performed on the Thames in honour of the mayor, but Middleton was responsible for the rest of the entertainment. Munday called his part The Triumphs of the Golden Fleece. What he essentially does is to reach back into the file and pull out the same device which he had used in the 1615 show. Again we find a boat with Jason, Medea, and others in it, most of them carrying shields bearing the impress of the Golden Fleece, and for this boat Munday received £35, according to company records. Munday adds: ‘Wee suppose this Argoe to be returned from Colchos, purposely to honor this Triumphall day, by the rare Arte of Medea the Enchantresse. …’¹⁴ In this performance Medea is attended by six tributary Indian kings, ‘holding their severall dominions of Medea, and living in vassalage to her’ (sig. A4^v). They row the boat, ‘wearing their Tributarie Crownes, and Antickely attired in rich habiliments’. Munday continues to be fascinated by the Jason-Golden Fleece story; and on a more practical level, it has a direct relationship to the Drapers' Company, of which he himself was a member.

Through Munday's involvement with the Jacobean Lord Mayor's Show we learn more about the details of their planning and preparations; especially do we learn of the pageant-dramatist's duties, ranging from being responsible for the children's breakfasts to providing apparel to having the books printed to planning the speeches and action of the entertainment. We also begin to learn something of the rôle and responsibilities of the artificers, a crucial development that is discussed in Part Three of this book. Such information was largely unavailable for the Elizabethan Lord Mayor's Show.

One of Munday's important contributions to the mayoral pageantry is his concentrated use of history. He alone explored the Brutus myth of English history and gave it dramatic life in London's streets. Building upon the precedent of Nelson's 1590 show, Munday constantly relies on the presence of former Lord Mayors in his pageants; indeed he brings to these pageants a historical sense of continuity.

His ‘resurrection’ scenes in the 1611 and 1616 shows are unique in pageantry and suggest a kinship to the regular theatre in which a number of plays contained such events—The Winter's Tale to name a famous example. By including such action Munday helps move the Lord Mayor's Show even further in the direction of drama, and we shall see other dramatists taking their inspiration from Munday's efforts at producing dramatic as well as thematic interest. At times his civic drama achieves a sophisticated level in the use of allegory and symbolism, an art that he obviously understands well. Skilful also is his use of certain stage properties to reinforce his allegorical intent.

Munday may be forgiven his propagandistic excesses especially in the 1605 show and somewhat in the 1616 one, for such is very much a part of civic drama which seeks to venerate the noble past while celebrating the present. Thematically he insists on the necessity of the unity of the kingdom, a motif implicit in most of his productions. There is a strong corollary to this theme: a representation of the virtues necessary to preserve the sanctity of the commonwealth, a theme sounded in other civic pageants of other times as well. Allegory is his chief method for presenting that particular theme as the abstract concept takes on flesh. A brief reflection on history plays of Renaissance drama will suggest another kinship that Munday's pageants share with the regular stage. What is alive and viable in the streets may have similar vitality in the Globe.

Notes

1. Ben Jonson, ed. C. H. Herford and Percy Simpson, vol. III (Oxford, 1927).

2. Malone Society, Collections III: A Calendar of Dramatic Records in the Books of the Livery Companies of London 1485-1640, ed. D.J. Gordon and Jean Robertson (Oxford, 1954), p. 63. All quotations from company records will be from this source with occasional modernization of the text.

3. The Triumphs of Re-United Britannia (London, 1605), sig. A4^v. All quotations will be from this original edition. There are reprints of the text in John Nichols, Progresses of King James I, 565f., and in R. T. D. Sayle, Lord Mayors' Pageants of the Merchant Taylors' Company in the 15th, 16th, and 17th Centuries (London, 1931). For additional discussion of Munday's pageants see Celeste Turner [Wright], Anthony Mundy: An Elizabethan Man of Letters, Univ. of Calif. Pubs. in Eng., vol. 2, no. 1 (Berkeley, 1928).

4. Malone Society, Collections III, p. 75.

5. Camp-bell or the Ironmongers Faire Field ([London, 1609]), sig. B2^v. All quotations are from this fragmentary text.

6. Chruso-Thriambos. The Triumphes of Golde (London, 1611), sig. A3^v. There are two editions of this pageant both published in the same year. For the purposes of quotation I have used the copy in the Huntington Library which is probably the first edition; the second is found in only one extant text in the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge.

7. Himatia-Poleos. The Triumphes of Olde Draperie (London, 1614). All quotations will be from this original edition.

8. Metropolis Coronata, The Triumphes of Ancient Drapery (London, 1615), sig. A4. Quotations will be from this edition. There is a reprint in Nichols, III, 108f.

9. One is struck with this inaccuracy because Munday himself in his Robin Hood plays had called the father-in-law of Robin Hood ‘Fitzwater’. And now, completely ignoring his own work, he links Fitz-Alwin and Robin Hood. Malcolm Anthony Nelson, ‘The Robin Hood Tradition in English Literature in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries’, unpublished dissertation (Northwestern, 1961), discusses Munday's several corruptions of the Robin Hood tradition, see p. 181.

10. These drawings are preserved and reproduced in a text of the pageant edited by John Gough Nichols, Chrysanaleia, The Golden Fishing (London, 1844).

11. Chrysanaleia (London, 1616), sig. B1. All quotations are from this seventeenth century edition. Reprints in John Nichols, Progresses of James, III, 195f., and in the text cited in footnote #10.

12. For further discussion see my ‘Anthony Munday's Son, Richard’, American Notes and Queries, VII (1969), 115-17.

13. Sidero-Thriambos (London, 1618), sig. B1. Quotes are from this text.

14. The Triumphs of the Golden Fleece (London, 1623), sig. A4. Citations are to this text.