Letter from Edward Alleyn to his wife

This be delivered to Mr Henslowe, one of the grooms of her majesty's chamber, dwelling on the bankside right over against the clink.

My good sweet mouse I commend me heartily to you, and my father, my mother & my sister Bess, hoping in God, though the sickness be round about you, yet by his mercy it may escape your house which by the grace of God it shall. Therefore use this course: keep your house fair and clean, which I know you will, and every evening throw water before your door and your back door, and have in your windows good store of rue and herb of grace, and with all the grace of God, which must be obtained by prayers and so doing no doubt, but the Lord will mercifully defend you. Now good mouse, I have no news to send you but this: that we have all our health, for which the Lord be praised. I reserved your letter at Bristol by Richard Couley for the which I thank you. I have sent you by this bearer, Thomas Pope's kinsman, my white waistcoat because it is a trouble to me to carry it. Receive it with this letter and lay it up for me till I come. If you send any more letters, send to me by the carriers of Shrewsbury, or to West Chester, or to York to be kept till my Lord Strange's Players come. And thus sweetheart with my hearty commendation to all our friends. I depart from Bristol this Wednesday, after Saint James's day, being ready to begin the play of Harry of Cornwall. Mouse, do my hearty commendation to Mr Grigs’ wife and all his household, and to my sister Phillyps.

Your loving husband,
Edward Alleyn

Mouse, you send me no news of any things you should send of: your domestic matters, such things as happen at home: as how your distilled water proves or this or that or any thing what you will.

And judge, I pray you, let my orange tawny stockings of woollen be dyed a very good black against I come home to wear in the winter. You sent me not word of my garden but next time you will but remember this: in any case that all that bed which was parsley in the month of September, you sow it with spinach, for then is the time. I would do it myself but we shall not come home till All Hallows Day. And so sweet mouse, farewell, and brook our long journey with patience.

Back to top