SCENE II.--_A Street in London.

_Enter_ LACY, _disguised as a Dutch Shoemaker_.

_Lacy._ How many shapes have gods and kings devised, Thereby to compass their desired loves! It is no shame for Rowland Lacy, then, To clothe his cunning with the gentle craft, That, thus disguised, I may unknown possess The only happy presence of my Rose. For her have I forsook my charge in France, Incurred the king’s displeasure, and stirred up Rough hatred in mine uncle Lincoln’s breast. O love, how powerful art thou, that canst change High birth to baseness, and a noble mind To the mean semblance of a shoemaker! But thus it must be. For her cruel father, Hating the single union of our souls, Has secretly conveyed my Rose from London, To bar me of her presence; but I trust, Fortune and this disguise will further me Once more to view her beauty, gain her sight. Here in Tower Street with Eyre the shoemaker Mean I a while to work; I know the trade, I learnt it when I was in Wittenberg. Then cheer thy hoping spirits, be not dismayed, Thou canst not want: do Fortune what she can, The gentle craft is living for a man. [_Exit._