This event is mentioned by Richard Rawlidge in a tract entitled “A Monster lately found out, or scourge of Tipplers,” published in 1628. Prynne also mentions this inn in a pamphlet against stage plays in 1632. The best known resort of the actors during the latter part of Elizabeth’s reign was “The Bull” in Bishopsgate Street, being frequently noticed in documents and literature. “The Bull” stood on the left hand side of Bishopsgate Street going towards Shoreditch from the west, exactly opposite St. Helen’s Place, formerly known as Little St. Helen’s. This inn luckily escaped the great fire in 1666, a disaster of such magnitude that, fortunately, has not befallen any other famous city of such great renown and dimensions. “The Bull” remained in situ two centuries after that disastrous event, only to be pulled down by the iconoclasts of our own day in 1866.
There exists a letter from the Earl of Warwick, dated July 1st, 1582, addressed to the Lord Mayor of London, in which he requests that his servant, John Davis, may be allowed to play at “The Bull,” in Bishopsgate Street. In answer to a second letter from the Earl of Warwick, the Lord Mayor still refuses the license on account of the plague. The restrictions in connection with the theatres in time of plague were very stringent. By command of the Authorities, all places of amusement were immediately closed if more than thirty deaths occurred during the week. On cessation of the plague the theatres, by permission, resumed their normal course. In the last years of the sixteenth century, Anthony Bacon, brother of the celebrated Francis Bacon, occupied lodgings near “The Bull,” much against the wish of his mother, who feared that his servants might be corrupted by living so near the scene of dramatic entertainment. This same inn was the resort of Hobson, the well-known Cambridge carrier. In one of the rooms hung his portrait with a hundred pound bag under his arm; underneath was written “The Fruitful Mother of a Hundred more.” The next notice is one of great importance and interest, containing a definite statement of a play being acted at “The Bull,” besides naming the title of the play, “An excellent Jest of Tarlton’s suddenly spoken at ‘The Bull’ in Bishopsgate Street.”
“There was a play of Henry the Fifth, wherein the Judge was to take a box of the eare, and because he was absent that should take the blow, Tarlton himselfe, ever forward to please, tooke upon him to play the same Judge, and Kenel then playing Henry the Fifth, hit Tarlton a sound boxe indeed, which made the people laugh, the more because it was he, but anon the Judge goes in and immediately Tarlton, in his clownes cloathes, comes out and asks the actor what news? O, saith one, hadst thou been here thou shouldst have seen Prince Henry hit the Judge a terrible box of the eare. What, man, said Tarlton, strike a judge! It is true in faith said the other. No other like, said Tarlton, and it could not be but terrible to the Judge when the report so terrifies me that methinks the blow remains still on my cheeke that it burns againe. The people laughed at this mightily, and to this day I have heard it commended for rare, for no marvel, for he had many of these. But I would see our clowns do the like in these days, no I warrant ye, and yet they thinke well of themselves too.” The play in which the prince strikes the judge is taken from “The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth containing the Honourable Battell of Agincourt. As it was played by the Queens Majesties Players, London. Printed by Thomas Creede, 1598.” A unique copy of this book is in the Bodleian Library. This play is much earlier than Shakespeare’s “Henry the Fifth,” and may be considered the source out of which Shakespeare created one of his great masterpieces. Gosson, in his “School of Abuse,” published in 1559, refers to a comedy entitled “The Jew,” performed at “The Bull,” describing the “greediness of worldly chusers and venomous minds of Usurers.” There is hardly a shadow of a doubt that this play is the same on which, many years later, Shakespeare founded his own “Merchant of Venice.” The plot of the “worldly chusers,” or what is now termed the “casket scene,” is related in the Gesta Romanorum a collection of tales and jests written originally in Latin, an English translation of which existed, circa, 1515, printed by the famous Wynkyn de Worde, several reprints appearing between 1571–1601. I possess a copy in black letter dated 1672, proving the popularity of the book during many generations. The Bond, or pound of flesh, story is taken from a collection of tales called “Il Pecorone by Ser Giovanni Fiorentino,” written in the year 1378; the first printed edition appeared in 1558. A copy of this rare book is in the Grenville collection, bequeathed by the owner to the British Museum. I was thus able to read the story in the beautiful original edition. I possess a copy of this book, which formerly belonged to Professor Dowden, bearing the imprint “In Milano, 1554,” with the name of the publishers of the genuine edition of 1558, four years previously to the genuine first edition. This imprint is a false one, the entire book being issued in 1740. I also possess a thick quarto edition of a book entitled The Orator, containing one hundred discourses on various subjects. In each essay the pros and cons of the case in dispute are thoroughly investigated after the manner of books on rhetoric, which were fashionable with the early Greek writers. Declamation numbered 96 strikingly resembles the trial scene in the “Merchant of Venice”; this book may have been read by Shakespeare before he composed the “Merchant of Venice,” which is assigned by most students to the year 1597. The Declamation opens as follows: “Of a Jew who would have for his debt a pound of flesh of a Christian.” Spenser, the famous poet, when writing to his friend, Gabriel Harvey, the well-known Cambridge scholar, signs himself “He that is fast bound unto thee in more obligations than any merchant of Italy to any Jew there.” This letter was in reply to one of Harvey’s, dated 1579; enclosed therein was a whimsical bond between the two friends in allusion to the bond of the Jew in the play. Evidently these two students had witnessed a performance of the Jew at “The Bull,” in which the bond story played a prominent part. When Shakespeare’s play was entered at Stationer’s Hall the description ran thus: “A book of the Merchant of Venyce or otherwise called the Jew of Venyce.” John Florio, an Italian refugee, refers to “The Bull” in a book called the First Frutes, published in 1578: “Shall we go to a playe at ‘The Bull’ or else to some other place?” By the above reference plays continued to be acted at inn-yards even after the erection of public theatres.
“The Bell Savage” was situated on the north side of Ludgate Hill, immediately outside the City gates. The site is now occupied by the publishing firm of Cassell and Co. This inn is included in the five enumerated by Rawlidge, where stage plays were enacted. The inn is not mentioned by name, but simply as one on Ludgate Hill. Stephen Gosson notes that at this inn two prose plays were acted, further adding that these plays were free from all immorality and obscenity. “The two prose plays played at ‘The Belsavage.’ Where you shall find never a word without wit, never a line without pith, never a letter placed in vain. Neither with amorous gestures wounding the eye, nor with slovenly talk hurting the ears of the chaste hearer.” George Gascoigne, in the prologue to one of his plays, called the “Glass of Government,” 1575, refers to this inn: “The Belsavage fair as affording merry jests and vain delights.” In Lamborde’s “Perambulation of Kent” there is another reference to this inn as a place of amusement: “Those who go to Paris Garden, the Belsavage or Theatre to behold bear baiting, interludes, or fence plays must not account of any pleasant spectacle unless they first pay one penny at the gate, another at the entry of the scaffold, and a third for a quiet standing.” In Shakespeare’s play of “Love’s Labour’s Lost,” in answer to a question a boy replies: “Why, sir, is this such a piece of study the dancing horse will tell you.” This horse, named Morocco, was a famous draw in Elizabethan times, being shown at “The Bull,” in Bishopsgate Street. One Banks, a Staffordshire man, exhibited him throughout England and a great part of the continent. When in Rome, Banks and his horse were supposed to have been burnt for witchcraft, but this is doubtful. The author of the above statement is Ben Jonson, in one of his epigrams, “Old Banks the Juggler and his learned horse burned beyond the sea.” Morocco was a bay horse and performed some very clever tricks; amongst them was counting how much money was in a man’s purse, signalling the answer by stamping with his hoof an equal number of times as there were coins in the purse. When his master told him to fetch the veriest knave in all the company he would always make towards his own keeper, thereby causing much merriment. The well-known Elizabethan dramatist, Thomas Dekker, mentions him as the dancing horse who stood on the top of Saint Paul’s whilst a number of asses stood braying below. Many writers of the period refer to this animal, and he may well be dubbed the literary horse. A curious tract, entitled “Moroccius Extaticus, or Bank’s Bay Horse in a Trance,” with a woodcut depicting the horse on his hind legs and two dice in front of him, was published in 1596. Three copies of this pamphlet are known, one is in the British Museum. The Huth exemplar, sold in 1911, fetched £110. I read the copy in the British Museum, but nothing is related about the horse. The book is a political satire on the land question. The name of the La belle sauvage has given rise to many ingenious guesses respecting the derivation, and Stow says the owner was named Isabella Savage and that she bequeathed the inn to the Cutlers’ Company. The Spectator would name it after a French play entitled “La Belle Sauvage.” Another states it was christened after Lady Arabella Savage, with a sign of a wild man and a bell. By the discovery of a document the matter was finally set at rest, wherein it was stated that the tavern was known as “Savage’s Inn,” otherwise called “The Bell on the Hoop.” By degrees the two names became confused, eventually becoming known as “The Bell Savage.”
“The Cross Keys” stood on the north side of Gracechurch Street, adjacent to the well-known Elizabethan tavern “The Queen of Saba,” kept by the Queen’s famous jester, Richard Tarlton. Many said he was a frequent visitor at “The Cross Keys” in order to note the fashions of the day, not in apparel only, but in manners, morals and customs of the period. This inn is not mentioned by Rawlidge as one of the public inn-yards where plays were performed before the year 1580. We catch a glimpse of “The Cross Keys” by an order of the Lord Mayor, dated November, 1589, forbidding the players acting in the City on account of having appeared in a controversial play in connexion with the Martin Marprelate affair. This Marprelate question occupied a similar position amongst the Elizabethan public as the Pusey tract controversy in mid-Victorian days. The discussion ranged over a theological question which was taken up by the dramatists of the Tudor period, with much acrimonious feeling and much throwing about of brains on both sides. Shakespeare abstained from taking part in this fierce and bitter controversy. When the order was executed only two companies were playing in the City, The Admiral’s and Lord Strange’s men, the latter company included Shakespeare as a member. Both companies were promptly summoned before the Court. The Admiral’s men obeyed the summons, but Lord Strange’s company deliberately refused and acted the same afternoon at “The Cross Keys.” Again they were summoned, and two of their number committed to prison. “The Cross Keys” was certainly one of the City’s regular play places, in proof of which the same company, but under different patronage, is found five years later playing in this identical inn-yard. A petition to the Lord Mayor, dated October the eighth, 1594, emanating from Lord Hunsdon, who was then Lord Chamberlain, prays the Lord Mayor if he would allow his players to continue acting at “The Cross Keys,” “where my company of players have accustomed for the better exercising their quality and for the service of Her Majesty, if need so require, and may your Lordship permit and suffer them so to do the which I pray you, rather to do for that they have undertaken to me, that there heretofore they began not their plays till towards four o’clock they will now begin at two and have done towards four o’clock and five, and will not use any drum or trumpet at all for the calling of the people together, and shall contribute to the poor of the parish where they play according to their abilities.”
This is one of the few authentic notices concerning Lord Strange’s men setting up their stages at an inn-yard. If it could be proved definitely that “The Cross Keys” was their principal place of acting between the years 1589–1594, then we must be prepared to admit that many of Shakespeare’s early plays were first acted under these primitive and rough and ready conditions. I am not an adherent of this theory, holding the opinion that all his plays were first produced at regular built theatres; afterwards there may have been a revival performance at inn-yards for want of better accommodation, but all this is very problematical. Not possessing any records designating the actual place of the first performance of Shakespeare’s plays, we are forced, therefore, to indulge in speculative theories. As I have repeatedly stated, this important question has not been sufficiently investigated, and a monograph on the subject by a Shakesperean scholar would be specially welcome.
At “The Cross Keys,” Banks exhibited his wonderful performing horse.
The most famous of all inns where plays were acted was unhesitatingly “The Boar’s Head,” in Eastcheap, exactly where now stands the statue of William the Fourth. The old site was swept away when the new approach was made to London Bridge. The only instance of a play being produced there is fortunately extant, and is contained in a letter to the Lord Mayor from the Lords of the Council, dated March 31st, 1608, granting permission to the servants of the Earl of Oxford and the Earl of Worcester to play at “The Bore’s Head,” in Eastcheap. This letter is preserved in the “Remembrancia,” a collection of papers now safely housed in the Guildhall. On the succession of James the First the Worcester men became the servants of Queen Anne, the consort of the King. Among the Calendars and State Papers is a licence for the actors to perform plays in their usual houses, “The Curtain” and “The Bore’s Head.” This tavern is, above all others, specially renowned, as it was here that Shakespeare selected as the meeting place of Falstaff, Prince Hal, and their boon companions. The tavern is alluded to in Shakespeare’s play of “King Henry the Fourth” in the following lines: “Doth the old boar feed in the old Frank,” and Bardolph answers: “At the old place, my Lord, in Eastcheap.”
Several inns existed in this locality, namely, “The Plough,” “The Chicken,” “The Three Kings,” and many others, but none with any sign that could be confounded with “The Boar’s Head.” The nocturnal roysterings of Prince Hal are not the invention of the poet. Stow relates how the Prince, with his two brothers, created such a riot in Eastcheap that they were brought before the magistrate. William Gascoigne, the Chief Justice, required the Mayor and Aldermen for the citizens to justify the Prince’s arrest and put themselves in the King’s grace. The Aldermen answered they had done their best according to the law to maintain the peace, therefore the Chief Justice in the King’s name remitted his ire and dismissed them. This William Gascoigne is the same judge who, according to tradition, was struck in the face by Prince Hal, whereupon the Prince, at the Judge’s order, was committed to the King’s Bench. Maitland, the historian of London, states that an inscription under the sign of “The Boar’s Head” notified that “this is the chief tavern in London.” The original inn was burnt to the ground in the great fire, immediately being rebuilt, and having for its sign a large boar’s head of stone, with the date underneath—1668; the sign is now exhibited in the crypt of the Guildhall. This second building was likewise destroyed, but in this instance not by fire, being demolished when an improvement scheme was formed for the widening of the approach to London Bridge. Many years before its demolition, this tavern had been converted into two houses, numbered respectively 2 and 3, Great Eastcheap; one of these houses was occupied by a gunsmith. A curious relic of “The Boar’s Head” is a carved figure about 12 inches high representing Falstaff. This figure stood on a bracket placed on one side of the doorway, outside the inn, another figure of the same period representing Prince Hal, stood on the opposite side. A water-colour drawing of Falstaff was presented to the Guildhall by Mr. Burgin, Dean of Chichester. A more important memento of this inn is a carved boxwood bas-relief of a boar’s head, set in a circular frame formed by the tusks of two boars, mounted in silver. An inscription at the back reads “Wm. Brooke, Landlord of ‘The Bore’s Head,’ Eastcheap, 1566.” The relic was sold at Christie’s in 1855, and is now in the possession of Mr. Burdett Coutts. In Shakespeare’s time the landlord at “The Bore’s Head,” was one John Rhodway, of Ventnor, who was buried in the churchyard of St. Michael’s, Crooked Lane, 1623. This church was also demolished in making improvements in this district. There are several allusions to this tavern in the literature of the day; one of special significance is mentioned in Gayton’s Festivous Notes, 1654: “Sir John of ‘The Bore’s Head,’ in Eastcheap.” Was it a coincidence or of a set purpose that Sir John and his wild companions assembled at this inn for their midnight revels? There was another “Boar’s Head” in Southwark, the property of a real Sir John Falstaff, who died in 1460.