The king eventually granted his new players some £30 for “maynte-naunce and releife” during the epidemic, but it was still necessary for them to go on tour. By the end of May 1603, the King’s Men had begun their travels to the plague-free regions of Maldon, Ipswich, Coventry, Shrewsbury, Bath and Oxford where, among other of Shakespeare’s dramas, they played
The plague was particularly prevalent in Southwark. In Shakespeare’s own parish more than two and a half thousand people died within the space of six months. Two of Shakespeare’s old colleagues, William Kempe and Thomas Pope, expired; they had both been residents of Southwark. So the epidemic fury sent Shakespeare away. At some point in this period, he left the Bankside shore and moved to another part of London. He changed his address from Southwark to the more fashionable and affluent neighbourhood of Silver Street, between Cripplegate and Cheapside. He was once more a lodger, living in a house at the corner of Silver Street and Muggle (Monkswell) Street as a tenant of a Huguenot family called the Mountjoys. Christopher Mountjoy was a wig-maker and “tire-maker,” a maker of ornamental headdresses; he catered for the theatrical trade as well as for private patrons, and he was no doubt associated with the King’s Men in a professional capacity.
His was a large and commodious house of three storeys with jettied upper floor and attics; there is an image of it in the Agas map of London, executed in 1560, where even on a small scale it looks relatively imposing. Mountjoy’s shop was at ground level, shielded from the weather by a “pentice” or roof, with the living apartments above. Silver Street itself, as its name implies, was a rich street. John Stow described it as containing “divers fair houses.” It was also famous for its wig-makers such as Mountjoy himself. In
When Shakespeare had resided in Southwark he had been close to the theatre, and subject to the appearance of uninvited colleagues and friends. But he was by no means isolated in Silver Street. He was close to his old Stratford friend, the publisher Richard Field; Mrs. Field, herself a Huguenot, worshipped at the same French church as Madame Mountjoy. In certain respects late sixteenth-century London still resembled a small town or village. He was also a few yards from the bookstalls of St. Paul’s Churchyard, where he would have seen his own plays on sale for sixpence. He could have picked up the short version of