Death
Local records in London show that for many years, Shank and his family lived in Golden Lane in the parish of St. Giles, Cripplegate (the same parish as Cuthbert Burbage and King's Man Nicholas Tooley). Records of the baptisms and burials of several of his children exist between the years 1610 and 1629. The exact date of Shank's death in unknown, though his funeral was held on 27 January 1636.
Shank's 1635 last will and testament required the company to pay his widow £50 as his share of the value of their costumes and plays. The will identifies Shank as a "citizen and weaver of London" as well as "one of his Majesty's servants the players." Professional actors sometimes maintained formal membership in one of the city's guilds so that they could lawfully bind apprentices to contracts — something that actors, as retainers in noble households, could not do under the prevailing legal system. John Heminges, for example, was a member of the grocers' guild throughout his life; James Burbage was a member of the carpenters' guild, while John Lowin and Robert Armin were goldsmiths' guild members.
Given Shank's role in training boy players for the company, he likely pursued a similar arrangement. Yet the will (one commentator has called it "a masterpiece of acrimony") also specified that the company owed him £16 20s. for two gowns; Shank may have had some role in providing the costumes of the troupe.
Read more about this topic: John Shank
Famous quotes containing the word death:
“One is apt to be discouraged by the frequency with which Mr. Hardy has persuaded himself that a macabre subject is a poem in itself; that, if there be enough of death and the tomb in ones theme, it needs no translation into art, the bold statement of it being sufficient.”
—Rebecca West (18921983)
“Because men really respect only that which was founded of old and has developed slowly, he who wants to live on after his death must take care not only of his posterity but even more of his past.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche (18441900)
“Of Heaven of Hell I have no power to sing,
I cannot ease the burden of your fears,
Or make quick-coming death a little thing,
Or bring again the pleasure of past years,”
—William Morris (18341896)