silk, drawn out with taffety, and one payer of long black woollen stockens, eight shillings;” “bought a robe for to go invisibell and a gown for Nembia, three pounds ten shillings” (Malone conjecturing that the mysterious “robe for to go invisibell” pertained to some drama in which the wearer of the garment specified was supposed to be unseen by the rest of the performers); “bought a doublet of white satten layd thick with gold lace, and a pair of rowne paned hose of cloth of silver, the panes layd with gold lace, seven pounds ten shillings,” and so on.

Alleyn’s inventory still exists, or did exist very recently, in his own handwriting, at Dulwich College; it is without heading or date, and relates almost exclusively to the dresses worn by himself in his personation of various characters upon the stage.  It is of interest, seeing that it demonstrates the assumption by Alleyn of various parts, if not in Shakespeare’s plays, at any rate in the earlier dramas upon which the poet founded certain of his noblest works.  Thus the actor’s list makes mention of “a scarlet cloke with two brode gould laces with gould down the same, for Leir”—­meaning, doubtless, “King Lear;” “a purple satin cloke, welted with velvett and silver twist, Romeo’s;” “Hary the VIII. gowne;” “blew damask cote for the Moor in Venis;” and “spangled hoes in Pericles.”  Such entries as “Faustus jerkin and cloke,” “Priams hoes in Dido,” and “French hose for the Guises,” evidence that the actor took part in Marlowe’s “Faustus” and “Massacre of Paris,” and the tragedy of “Dido,” by Marlowe and Nash.  Then there are cloaks and gowns, striped and trimmed with gold lace and ermine, suits of crimson, and orange-tawny velvet, cloth of gold and silver, jerkins and doublets of satin taffety and velvet, richly embroidered, and hose of various hues and patterns.  The actor’s wardrobe was clearly most costly and complete, and affords sufficient proof that theatrical costumes generally, even at that early date, were of a luxurious nature.  In considering the prices mentioned in Henslowe’s list, the high value of money in his time should of course be borne in mind.

It is plain, however, that splendour was much more considered than appropriateness of dress.  Some care might be taken to provide Robin Hood with a suit of Lincoln green; to furnish hoods and frocks for friars and royal robes for kings; but otherwise actors, dramatists, and audience demanded only that costly and handsome apparel should appear upon the scene.  Indeed, the desire for correctness of dress upon the stage is of modern origin.  Still, now and then may be found, even in very early days, some inclination towards carefulness in this respect; as when, in 1595, Thomas Nevile, Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, applied to Lord Treasurer Burghley for the loan of the royal robes in the Tower, in order to perform, “for the exercise of young gentlemen and scholars in our college,” certain comedies and one tragedy,