How does it feel to be a refugee, bereft of everything that you know and hold dear, standing on a shoreline looking towards a foreign, perhaps a hostile new country, fleeing from the worst of humanity but having to hope that, contrary to all your experience, there is the best of humanity on this new, this other shore? This is the question that Shakespeare asks us in his contribution to a play that was not performed until about 360 years after he wrote the words of what is sometimes known as “the Strangers’ speech” in The Book of Sir Thomas More. The play was the combined work of several authors and the subject of a great deal of censorship and revision by other writers. The original version can be dated, tentatively, to between 1591 and 1593. It varies in quality as can be expected from a work that has been through many hands and most of it is of little relevance to this subject, except that I have taken the title from it. The “Strangers speech” is now acknowledged as the work of William Shakespeare. The British Library suggests that Shakespeare was brought in, with others, to revise sections of the play in 1603 and he contributed this speech, in which More asks anti-immigrant rioters to put themselves in the position of the stateless, refugees, the people he calls the “wretched strangers.”
The action of the play and the xenophobic rioting that forms the context of the speech took place long before the play was written. In reality, Thomas More, in his role as an undersheriff of the City of London, was addressing rioting apprentices who had physically attacked foreign workers on what became known as Evil May Day, on the evening of 1 May 1517. London apprentices turned to violence because of their resentment of what would today be described as “economic migrants,” not refugees. They were, in the main, Europeans who had come to London from places like Lombardy and Germany, merchants, bankers and tradesmen who were attracted to the City of London because of its significance in international trade. It is estimated that “64,000 foreigners, from wealthy Lombard bankers to Flemish laborers, arrived on English shores between 1330 and 1550”.  At the time that the play was written and revised, between 1592 and 1603, there circumstances were very different. For several decades, people had been arriving on British soil because they were fleeing religious and political upheaval on the mainland of Europe.
Thomas More’s speech in the play, in the words that Shakespeare puts into his mouth, seems to be addressing a different issue from the one that sparked the Evil May Day riots. The people he is talking about are quite obviously refugees, not merchants or skilled artisans settled in the City. In the years leading up to the time that the play was written, in the latter part of the sixteenth century, thousands of people had fled from religious persecution in France and the Low Countries and it seems to be on the behalf of these people that Shakespeare is appealing. In the words of the critic, Jonathan Bate: “More asks the on-stage crowd, and by extension the theatre audience, to imagine what it would be like to be an asylum-seeker undergoing forced repatriation.”
It is this meticulous use of language, which still speaks to us across the centuries, that makes the voice most convincingly Shakespeare’s. Just as he persuades us to feel empathy with the much-maligned Shylock in The Merchant of Venice (which was written around 1598), he asks us in this case to put ourselves into the position of the Other, the refugee, the “wretched stranger”:
whither would you go
What country, by the nature of your error,
Should give you harbour? go you to France or Flanders,
To any German province, to Spain or Portugal,
Nay, any where that not adheres to England,
Why, you must needs be strangers: would you be pleased
To find a nation of such barbarous temper,
That, breaking out in hideous violence,
Would not afford you an abode on earth,
Whet their detested knives against your throats,
Spurn you like dogs, and like as if that God
Owed not nor made not you, nor that the claimants
Were not all appropriate to your comforts,
But chartered unto them, what would you think
To be thus used? this is the strangers case;
And this your mountainish inhumanity.
It is a rebuke aimed at all of those throughout the centuries whose “mountainish inhumanity” has denied help to the most vulnerable of all, the stateless refugee. Sadly, it was never heard publicly until 1964 when Nottingham Playhouse revived the play to celebrate Shakespeare’s quattrocentenary . Edmund Tylney, who was the Master of the Revels from 1569 to 1610 and therefore in charge of theatrical censorship, did not allow The Book of Sir Thomas More to be performed. The reason was almost certainly the perennial fear of civil unrest and insurrection that obsessed the reigning monarchs (Elizabeth I and James I) and their courtiers. It was the same fear that plunged Shakespeare into boiling hot water when supporters of the Earl of Essex performed his Richard II – which depicts that monarch being deposed on stage – on the eve of their disastrous attempted coup d’état against Queen Elizabeth I in 1601. Sir Thomas More depicts rioting on the streets of London and Tylney’s vaguely threatening instructions – written on the same manuscript as Shakespeare’s verses, were clear:
Leave out the insurrection wholly and the cause thereof, and begin with Sir Thomas More at the Mayor’s sessions, with a report afterwards of his good service done being Sheriff of London upon a mutiny against the Lombards – only by a short report, and not otherwise, at your own perils.
Whether Tylney was concerned about the portrayal of civil unrest generally or the more specific anti-immigrant context is uncertain. There was an influx of refugees from Ghent, Bruges, Brussels, and Antwerp in 1584/5 and this had followed other large groups of people fleeing religious persecution from the Low Countries in the 1560s through to those French Protestants who survived the St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre in 1572. The decades since Evil May Day had seen the flight of many thousands of Dutch, Flemish and French people from the European mainland. Thousands died in the most brutal circumstances. Many of those who escaped came to the British Isles particularly after the accession of Edward VI in whose reign Protestantism became more firmly established. Immigrants were generally known as aliens or Strangers (“Straungers”). The word “refugee”, from the French word réfugié meaning “gone in search of refuge”, did not come into common use until the later influx of Huguenot Protestants from France in the late seventeeth century. The first recorded use of the word Huguenot was in 1560, but it became much more widespread after the second wave of French Protestant refugees came to England following the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685. In the sixteenth century, although the Dutch, Flemish and Walloon (French speakers from the Low Countries) “Strangers” were generally welcomed, they were nevertheless subject to quite stringent laws as to their rights and obligations in their new country.
There had been immigrants from what was known as the Low Countries (most notably Holland and Belgium) for centuries before they began to arrive in vast numbers, fleeing persecution. Some of these earlier immigrants, who came for other reasons, to ply their trades or because of natural disasters such as flood or famine, are recorded in the database England’s Immigrants 1330 – 1550: Resident Aliens in the Late Middle Ages. From this, derived from taxation documents and other records (mainly alien subsidy returns and letters of denization), we can identify individual migrants, many of whom settled here. Some of these came from Florence, Genoa and Venice and settled mainly in the capital and had been attracted to the mercantile opportunities provided by the City of London. Immigrants from the Low Countries, described variously as “Dutch,” “Hollanders” or “Flemish” settled in the east of England particularly, mostly in London and its environs, of course, but there were also significant numbers resident in Suffolk (213), Cambridgeshire (172) and Norfolk (159).
Some, such as the Dutch householder, Adrian Berbrewer, who paid taxes at Walberswick in Suffolk in 1440, brought European expertise to trades, such as weaving and brewing. There are a high proportion of names related to the brewing industry among them (Berebruer, Brewer, Bruer, Couper), but many other occupations are recorded, often related to clothmaking or the clothing industries for which the Netherlands was famous. Along with the many immigrants called “Wever,” Webber or Webster, there were those such as Henry Clokmaker (cloakmaker or, possibly, clockmaker) of Devon, Hermann Cordewaner (cordwainer) of Norwich and Alice Coryour (currier) of Cambridge. Other names denote the immigrants’ places of origin, from the many spellings of “Dewcheman” (and also several instances of the surname “Duchewoman”) and “Flemyng” to Nicholas Delff, Christina de Friseland of Lincoln, or John Utreght of Lostwithiel in Cornwall. Although these people would be a fascinating study in their own right, they were not present in great numbers until the refugee crises of the sixteenth century. The database has identified 3,102 from the Netherlands and 1,908 from Belgium resident in England between 1330-1550 and there is undoubtedly some overlap. A few thousand arrivals from these countries during two centuries does not constitute a significant influx of people, even in a country with a population of only three million. Nevertheless, in some areas, there was a impact on the culture of the places where immigrants gathered and settled.
What changed everything was the Reformation and in particular, the efforts of the dominant Habsburg monarchy to stamp out what they saw as a threat to both their power and that of the Catholic church. It is far from being as simple as this, of course, but for the purposes of this essay we only need to know the reasons why there was an exodus of Calvinists from the Low Countries in the sixteenth century and why so many of them chose to make their home – some temporarily, some permanently – in the British Isles.
The French settled in England in large numbers, doubtless because of the proximity and longstanding financial and familial connections between the two nations. Shakespeare himself was for a time the lodger of a French immigrant family, the Mountjoys, who were tire-makers, that is, makers of elaborate head-dresses. As they were French Protestants it is quite likely that they came to England as refugees although they do not appear to have been either particularly religious or political. As Charles Nicholl, whose book The Lodger: Shakespeare on Silver Street  gives us a fascinating glimpse into the lives of this small group of Strangers at this time, writes: “Whatever the precise dates and details there is this hidden chapter of emigration in the Mountjoys’ story: a chapter of upheaval and trauma. They arrive in England as asylum-seekers, indeed as boat-people, crowded into one of the over-freighted little pinnaces and fishing-boats that brought the refugees across the Channel to the south-coast ports…”
Shakespeare’s world (or, at least, his London world) was filled with foreigners, whether they were immigrants, refugees or temporary visitors. In the middle-class, artistic milieu he inhabited, he would have come across many incomers and it is possible to wonder whether some of the many foreign influences in his work, might derive from this, as they undoubtedly also did from the literature he read. The almost “documentary” feel of some of his lines in Sir Thomas More feel like they were based on first or second-hand experience, perhaps told to him by refugees who knew what it was like to be:
… the wretched strangers,
Their babies at their backs and their poor luggage,
Plodding to the ports and coasts for transportation.
Another Londoner who was known to Shakespeare was the playwright, Thomas Dekker, who also had a hand in The Book of Sir Thomas More. He appears to have been a Dutch speaker, and although – according to his own account – he was born in London in approximately 1570 and his first language was English, it’s likely he had Dutch ancestry. It isn’t possible to trace him in Subsidy Rolls or parish registers of the time. The Thomas Decker, son of William Decker, who was baptised in 1578 at St Botolph’s in Aldgate is probably too young. It would have made him only about fourteen years old when he contributed to the earlier version of Sir Thomas More. He first appears as an author in his own right in theatrical impresario Philip Henslowe’s diary of 1598, which would make him twenty years old if he was the same person. Even if it does not refer to him specifically, it is quite possible that the family mentioned in the Aldgate registers was related to him. Although there are no references to them being aliens or strangers, they were living in an area with a high proportion of Dutch, Flemish and French immigrants and a short walk from the Dutch church at Austin Friars.
Thomas Dekker’s family may well have been refugees from the Low Countries but it is not possible to prove anything about his nationality. His origins appear to be undocumented which may indicate something about them. It is generally believed that he was born in London but this is because he makes several metaphorical allusions to the city as his “mother” etc. In his romantic comedy The Shoemaker’s Holiday (1599) Dekker has one of his characters masquerade as a Dutch shoemaker and uses the opportunity to have fun with the mangled Dutch-English language that he speaks, but there’s little evidence to support the view that Dekker felt any connection with the Netherlands or any sympathy with the plight of the refugees, in the way that Shakespeare did. Apart from his vigorous anti-Catholicism, and his fluency in the Dutch language, there is little in Dekker’s work to indicate that he came from a refugee background.
There were other connections between English theatre of the time and the Low Countries. Playwrights George Chapman, Christopher Marlowe, Ben Jonson and Cyril Tourneur all served at one time or another in the armies there. After 1586 English acting companies were frequent visitors to the Netherlands “where they would almost certainly have seen Dutch performances of plays about Spanish tyranny and heroic local resistance.”  Dutch influence came from many directions and the toing and froing of both English and Dutch people between the two countries meant that there was a considerable interchange of artistic and cultural ideas.
In 1522, only five years after Evil May Day, the Habsburg King Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, King of the Romans, King of Italy, King of Spain, Archduke of Austria, Duke of Burgundy and Lord of the Netherlands instituted an Inquisition in the Low Countries for the suppression of heretics. An imperial edict, in 1535, condemned all heretics to death. Even if they renounced their heretical beliefs, there was no escaping the violent repression of any unorthodoxy. Repentant males were to be executed with the sword, repentant females were to be buried alive, those who refused to recant, of either sex, were to be burned to death. Most of those accused had become Protestants following the Reformation: Lutherans, Anabaptists and Calvinists, in particular. In the same year (1535), Britain began to receive the first of its refugees. Between 1535 and 1550 five thousand Flemish and Walloon refugees from the Low Countries were granted citizenship and settled in Britain. 
When Edward VI had succeeded his father to the English throne in 1547, the somewhat ambivalent attitude of the country to the Strangers improved. The new king was under the influence of the Regent Somerset, who wholeheartedly supported moderate Protestantism, and allowed the establishment of the first “foreign” churches in England for the immigrant French and Dutch refugees . In 1550, Edward VI, granted foreign Protestants a Charter allowing them to practise their religion and giving them the use of the church of St Augustine Friars (known as Austin Friars) in London. Several of the most learned among the refugees were given positions in the Church of England or at the universities – Martin Bucer (Bucerus) – exiled to England from Strasbourg in 1549 – was given the chair of Divinity at Cambridge University and Peter Martyr was appointed to the same position at Oxford – and following what one writer, with considerable understatement, described as the “reverses” during the reign of Queen Mary, the arrival of Elizabeth I on the throne brought a much more welcoming atmosphere for Protestant refugees from Europe.
In 1555 Charles V began to abdicate from his various Habsburg thrones and his son Philip II of Spain took control of the Spanish Netherlands. Charles’ persecution of Protestants had resulted in the executions of over 1,300 people in the Spanish Netherlands between 1523 and 1566.  The enforcement of Charles’ edicts had not been so stringent towards the end of his reign but Philip II – via his representatives Margaret of Parma and the Duc d’Alva – was much more zealous and in the 1560s – another wave of Dutch refugees from Spanish rule came to Britain, mainly settling in Kent and the Sussex Weald. A measure of how welcome the Strangers were is that the administrators of the city of Norwich – a city that was so multicultural in the middle ages that some claimed that someone was just as likely to hear French spoken on its streets as English – actively poached the Dutch refugees who had settled at Sandwich.  Norfolk had benefited in the past from the skills of weavers and other artisans from the Low Countries and was keen to boost the local economy by attracting more. The Strangers’ church in Norwich was founded in 1565.
Queen Mary had, of course, married the very person whose policies have caused the refugees from Spanish Netherlands to flee their homes in the first place. According to Andrew Pettegree  “… abortive attempts to raise an armed protest against Mary’s foreign marriage in other parts of the country had shaken the régime very badly; the loyalty of London was in doubt to the last moment and the Queen and her advisers needed little convincing that the foreign Protestants who lingered in the capital were in a large measure responsible for the unreliability.” On 17 February 1554, all “seditious and non-denizen aliens” were given twenty days to leave the country. Philip II dragged his wife’s realm into his war with France and evetually, England lost its last possession in that country, Calais. By January 1558 a further proclamation ordered the arrest of any non-denizen Frenchman who had not left and soon afterwards a bill was introduced to Parliament enabling the repeal of Letters of Patent by which the remaining French residents held denizen status. Anti-French feeling was running high. It was only Mary’s death later the same year that prevented the situation for Protestant strangers from deteriorating further.
Many of the accounts of the persecution of Protestants in the Spanish Netherlands are partial and indeed were used as anti-Catholic propaganda for centuries afterwards, so accounts of atrocities on both sides should be approached with caution, but there is no doubt that the Spanish Habsburg rulers of the Low Countries, and their representatives such as the Duke d’Alva, at that time were determined on some kind of religious genocide and the threat of extermination was made quite clear. In July 1566, for example, a placard or proclamation was issued directed against those people considered to be a heretical to the Catholic faith: “preachers, teachers and ministers, and their followers shall be liable to death and execution by hanging, with confiscation of all their goods. All who entertain preachers, ministers, etc., shall be brought to the gallows and executed, and fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, masters, mistresses, and other relations shall be responsible for their children, all those under them, should they take part in any of the meetings…” This produced a “vague terror” among the dissenting population but – given the background of persecution, including burnings and torture at the hands of the Inquisition- it would appear that for any Protestants who were unwilling to renounce their faith the writing was on the wall. For many people, however, leaving their homeland may have been a reaction to the extreme violence committed by both sides. What has been described as an “Evangelical Militia,” – bands of Calvinists “went openly through the country beating drums and flying colours,” and also attacking churches and monasteries . Caught in such a terrifying atmosphere, many refugees, far from being activists for their religion, may have simply wanted a peaceful life.
The resulting exodus was huge, resulting in “the largest uprooting experienced in early modern Europe, and the number has been estimated at a total of circa 180,000. Of these it has been suggested that perhaps 10,000 would be found in England by the 1570s, that number peaking at roughly 15,000 in the 1590s before falling back again to around 10,000 generation later.” 
Following Mary’s death in late 1558, the new Protestant monarch, Elizabeth I, declared that as long as the refugees were worshipping the same god, differences in the way that religious services were conducted would be tolerated. This presumably only applied to Protestants. When Walloon refugees started to arrive in 1567, settling at Canterbury, Norwich, Southampton, Sandwich, Colchester, Maidstone and elsewhere, they were welcomed and it was particularly noted that the new arrivals had greatly-needed skills in the manufacture of high-quality wool, linen and silk, and related industries.
The first of the “Stranger” churches was established by Royal Charter at Austin Friars in London. Both French and Dutch refugees were allowed to hold services in the nave of the church there. The site had been an Augustinian priory until its dissolution in 1538. French-speaking refugees (at this time usually Walloons from the Low Countries) gravitated towards a church of their own at St Anthony, Threadneedle Street and the churches became known as the Dutch Church and the French Church respectively. Other Stranger churches grew up around the areas where the refugees settled, in Norwich, Colchester, Canterbury and Sandwich all has Strangers’ churches, for example.
In 1568, an order was issued that all Strangers must become members of a Strangers’ church or leave the kingdom.  Strangers were obliged by law to be part of the congregation: “A French immigrant in London had by law to be either ‘of’ the French Church or a member of the congregation of a local parish church. This was certainly the case from 1573, when it was decreed that anyone set down as ‘of no church’ in the immigrant lists should be repatriated.”  By 1568 the Dutch Church had 2,000 members and the French Church 1,800.
Shakespeare’s French landlord, Christopher Mountjoy, who was quite successful in the small artisan business he and his wife set up in Silver Street, near to what is now London Wall: “In late-Elizabethan London you might hear the same resentments towards immigrants that are expressed today – they took houses and jobs away from the local population; they were flooding in so numerously that they threatened ‘our way of life’; they did not attempt to integrate. ‘They are a commonwealth within themselves,’ complained a group of petitioning Londoners in 1571. ‘They keep themselves severed from us in church, in government, in trade, in language and marriage.’ ” 
The government’s response to this was to keep a close eye on the newcomers. They took regular censuses or returns of Strangers in London: between 1562 and 1593 (and beyond this date). There were also proposals for a scheme in which local citizens were made officially responsible for foreigners in their area. “Strangers ought not to take any lodgings or houses within the city,’ it was argued, ‘but to abide at the tables of freehosts, and to dwell in noe other place but with the said hostes to be assigned.” Foreigners were also subject to a double rate of taxation, in addition to other tariffs. Despite this, many traders felt their livelihoods threatened by competition from the Strangers. “They organized petitions and lobbied in Parliament for protection. They were ‘greeved at’ the ‘great number of… straungers settled here amongst us’, and especially at two groups of them, ‘marchants’ and ‘handycraftesmen’ … They [strangers] ought not to sell any merchaundizes by retayle. Contrary heerunto many of their merchaunts are retaylers also, keep shoppes inward, and private chambers, and therein sell by whole sale and retayle, send to everyman’s house, serve chapmen, send to fayres, and utter their commodities many other ways… They ought to imploy the money taken for the commodities of their countryes upon the commodyties of this kingdome, which they do not, for whereas they have halfe the trade of this kingdome in importe they imploy not a twentieth part thereof, but transport the money or make it over by exchange… They ought not to buy and sell merchandizes one to another, which they do freely amongst themselves, and… have ingrossed almost all the new draperie into their hands… ‘ ” 
There were further outbreaks of anti-immigrant feeling in 1586. Apprentices of the Plasterer’s Company were arrested and committed to Newgate prison as a result and there were further protests, albeit with less violence, in 1592 when “English shopkeepers” complained that the incomers were illegally retailing goods as well as manufacturing them. A bill was introduced to Parliament to curb their activities. Sir Walter Raleigh spoke “in favour of it, … complaining bitterly of the strangers.”
According to Nicholls, “There were many such petitions, never effectively addressed, and in 1593 anti-alien feeling was dangerously rekindled. It was a time of plague and war – the long-running conflict in the Low Countries, the renewed threat of Spanish invasion. The economy was stretched, inflation was running high, bad harvests drove up food prices. In London the mood was ugly, and the strangers were convenient scapegoats. ‘The common people do rage against them,’ wrote one observer, ‘as though for their sakes so many taxes, such decay of traffic, and their being embrandled in so many wars, did ensue.’ On the street, petitions having proved useless, more militant action began. In mid-April there appeared an inflammatory broadsheet, described by the Privy Council as a ‘vyle ticket or placarde, set up upon some post in London, purportinge… violence upon the strangers’. It is addressed to ‘you beastly Brutes the Belgians (or rather drunken drones) and faint-hearted Flemings, and you fraudulent Father Frenchmen’. It accuses them of ‘cowardly flight from [their] natural countries’, and of ‘feigned hypocrisy and counterfeit shew of religion’. It complains that the Queen has permitted them ‘to live here in better case and more freedom than her own people’. It issues a dire ultimatum: “Be it known to all Flemings and Frenchmen that it is best for them to depart out of the realm of England between this and the 9th of July next. If not then take that which follows, for that there shall be many a sore stripe. Apprentices will rise to the number of 2336. And all the apprentices and journeymen will down with the Flemings and strangers.”  The Council drafted an urgent letter to the Lord Mayor, Sir Cuthbert Buckle, ordering that those involved be ‘strictlie examined’ and if necessary ‘punyshed by torture’. But further placards appeared – most notoriously the ‘Dutch Church libel’ – affixed to the wall of the Dutch Church on the night of 5 May, and still picked over today because of its mysterious connections with the playwrights Thomas Kyd and Christopher Marlowe. It begins:
Ye strangers yt doe inhabite in this lande
Note this same writing doe it understand.
Conceit it well for savegard of your lyves,
Your goods, your children & your dearest wives.
It rehearses the usual grievances against immigrant craftsmen (‘Our poor artificers starve & dye / For yt they cannot now be sett on worke’) and retailers (‘Cutthroat-like in selling you undoe / us all’), but the note of rabble-rousing violence is more strident than ever–
Expect you therefore such a fatall day
Shortly on you & youres for to ensewe
As never was seene.
Since wordes nor threates nor any other thinge
Canne make you to avoyd this certaine ill,
Weele cutt your throates in your temples praying
Not Paris massacre so
much blood did spill… 
It was signed ‘Tamburlaine’, surely an allusion to Marlowe’s play, Tamburlaine the Great (1587). A letter sent from England on 16 May to the Catholic intelligence-gatherer Richard Verstegan in Brussels, gives the following news: The apprentices of London have dispersed many libels against all sortes of strangers, threatning severely that if they depart not spedely to massacre them all… Great fear is thereby conceyved by the strangers. Great companyes of them are already departed, and more daily preparing to follow, so it is thought the most part will away, our Councell not knowing how to protect them. Verstegan himself (writing on 17 May, and thus before receiving the above) says: ‘There are above 10,000 strangers determyned this somer to departe from England… for fear of some comotion to be made by the comon people against them.’ 
The “mountainous inhumanity ” that Shakespeare recognized was not very far beneath the surface of English civilization after all.
 Charles Nicholl, The Lodger: Shakespeare on Silver Street (Penguin, 2008).
 Hugh Dunthorne, Britain and the Dutch Revolt, 1560-1700 (Cambridge University Press, 2013).
 Andrew Hadfield, http://theconversation.com/refugees-and-riots-in-shakespeares-england-56386
 Christopher Hanson-Smith, The Flemish bond: East Anglia and the Netherlands – close and ancient neighbours (Groundnut Publishing, 2004).
 James D. Tracy, The Founding of the Dutch Republic: War, finance and politics in Holland, 1572-1588 (Oxford University Press, 2008).
 W. J. C. Moens, The Walloons And Their Church At Norwich. 1565-1832 (Huguenot Society, 1888). See also C. Joby, French in early modern Norwich. Journal of French Language Studies, 27, 3, (2017), pp. 431-451. doi:10.1017/S0959269516000429
 Andrew Pettegree, The Strangers and their churches in London, 1550-1580. Oxford D. Phil thesis, February 1983, p.126
 Nigel Goose & Lien Luu (eds.) Immigrants in Tudor and Early Stuart England (Sussex Academic Press, 2013).
 G. B. Beeman, The Early History of the Strangers’ Church, 1550 to 1561, part of the Proceedings of the Huguenot Society of London, vol. XV, no. 2 (London, 1935), 261-282.
 Irene Scouloudi, Returns of strangers in the metropolis, 1593, 1627, 1635, 1639 : a study of an active minority (London: Huguenot Society, 1985), pp. 66-7.
 John Strype, Annals of the Reformation and Establishment of Religion, and Other Various Occurrences in the Church of England, During Queen Elizabeth’s Happy Reign (1824 edn.)
 Arthur Freeman, ‘Marlowe, Kyd and the Dutch Church Libel’, English Literary Renaissance 3 (1973), 44–52; Nicholl 2002, 47–53, 347–52. The full text of the libel, in a copy of c. 1600, was discovered in 1971 among the ‘residual’ MSS of the nineteenth-century collector Sir Thomas Phillips.
 Petti 1959. Anthony Petti, ed., The Letters and Dispatches of Richard Verstegan. Catholic Record Society 52.