Chapter LXII: Act III: Scene I.2157

_Enter_ LACY [_as_ HANS], Skipper, HODGE, _and_ FIRK.

Skip. _Ick sal yow wat seggen, Hans; dis skip dot comen from Candy,
is all vol, by Got’s sacrament, van sugar, civet, almonds, cambrick,
end alle dingen, towsand towsand ding. Nempt it, Hans, nempt it vor u
meester. Daer be de bils (5) van laden. Your meester Simon Eyre sal
hae good copen. Wat seggen yow, Hans?[2158]_

_Firk. Wat seggen de reggen de copen, slopen_—laugh, Hodge, laugh! 9

_Hans. Mine liever broder Firk, bringt Meester Eyre tot del signe un
Swannekin; daer sal yow finde dis skipper end me. Wat seggen yow,
broder Firk? Doot it, Hodge._[2159] Come, skipper.
_Exeunt._

_Firk._ Bring him, quoth you? Here ’s no (14) knavery, to bring
my master to buy a ship north the lading of two or three hundred
thousand pounds. Alas, that’s nothing; a trifle, a bauble, Hodge.

_Hodge._ The truth is, Firk, that the merchant owner of the ship
dares not shew his head, (20) and therefore this skipper that deals
for him, for the love he bears to Hans, offers my master Eyre a
bargain in the commodities. He shall have a reasonable day of
payment; he may sell (24) the wares by that time, and be an huge
gainer himself.

_Firk._ Yea, but can my fellow Hans lend my master twenty porpentines
as an earnest penny?

_Hodge._ Portuguese, thou wouldst say; here (29) they be, Firk; hark,
they jingle in my pocket like St. Mary Overy’s bells.

_Enter_ EYRE _and his_ Wife [MARGERY].

_Firk._ Mum, here comes my dame and my master. She ’ll scold, on my
life, for loitering this Monday; but all ’s one, let them all say
what they can, Monday ’s our holiday. 35

_Marg._ You sing, Sir Sauce, but I beshrew your heart.
I fear, for this your singing we shall smart.

_Firk._ Smart for me, dame; why, dame, why?

_Hodge._ Master, I hope you ’ll not suffer my dame to take down your
journeymen. 40

_Firk._ If she take me down, I ’ll take her up? yea, and take her
down too, a button-hole lower.

_Eyre._ Peace, Firk; not I, Hodge; by the life of Pharaoh, by the
Lord of Ludgate, by this beard, every hair whereof I value at a
(45) king’s ransom, she shall not meddle with you.—Peace, you
bombast-cotton-candle-quean; away, queen of clubs; quarrel not with
me and my men, with me and my fine Firk; I ’ll firk you, if you do. 50

_Marg._ Yea, yea, man, you may use me as you please; but let that
pass.

_Eyre._ Let it pass, let it vanish away; peace! Am I not Simon Eyre?
Are not these my (54) brave men, brave shoemakers, all gentlemen of
the gentle craft? Prince am I none, yet am I nobly born, as being
the sole son of a shoemaker. Away, rubbish! vanish, melt; melt; like
kitchen-stuff. 59

_Marg._ Yea, yea, ’t is well; I must be call’d rubbish,
kitchen-stuff, for a sort[2160] of knaves.

_Firk._ Nay, dame, you shall not weep and wail in woe for me. Master,
I ’ll stay no longer; here ’s an inventory of my shop-tools. Adieu,
master; Hodge, farewell. 65

_Hodge._ Nay, stay, Firk; thou shall not go alone.

_Marg._ I pray, let them go; there be moe maids than Mawkin, more men
than Hodge, and more fools than Firk. 70

_Firk._ Fools? Nails! if I tarry now, I would my guts might be turn’d
to shoe-thread.

_Hodge._ And if I stay, I pray God I may be turn’d to a Turk, and set
in Finsbury[2161] for boys to shoot at.—Come, _Firk._ 75

_Eyre._ Stay, my fine knaves, you arms of my trade, you pillars of
my profession. What, shall a tittle-tattle’s words make you forsake
Simon Eyre?—Avaunt, kitchen-stuff! Rip, you brown-bread Tannikin;
out of my sight! Move me not! Have not I ta’en you from selling 81
tripes in Eastcheap, and set you in my shop, and made you hail-fellow
with Simon Eyre, the shoemaker? And now do you deal thus (84) with my
journeymen? Look, you powder-beef-quean, on the face of Hodge, here
’s a face for a lord.

_Firk._ And here ’s a face for any lady in Christendom. 89

_Eyre._ Rip, you chitterling, avaunt! Boy, bid the tapster of the
Boar’s Head fill me a dozen cans of beer for my journeymen.

_Firk._ A dozen cans? O, brave! Hodge, now I ’ll stay.

_Eyre._ [_in a low voice to the_ Boy.] An the (95) knave fills any
more than two, he pays for them. [_Exit_ Boy. _Aloud._]—A dozen
cans of beer for my journeymen. [_Re-enter_ Boy.] Here, you mad
Mesopotamians, wash your livers (99) with this liquor. Where be the
odd ten?—No more, Madge, no more.—Well said.[2162] Drink and to
work!—What work dost thou, Hodge? What work?

_Hodge._ I am a making a pair of shoes for my lord mayor’s daughter,
Mistress Rose. 105

_Firk._ And I a pair of shoes for Sybil, my lord’s maid. I deal with
her.

_Eyre._ Sybil? Fie, defile not thy fine work-manly fingers with the
feet of kitchenstuff (109) and basting-ladles. Ladies of the court,
fine ladies, my lads, commit their feet to our apparelling; put
gross work to Hans. Yark[2163] and seam, yark and seam!

_Firk._ For yarking and seaming let me alone, an I come to’t. 115

_Hodge._ Well, master, all this is from the bias.[2164] Do you
remember the ship my fellow Hans told you of? The skipper and he
are both drinking at the Swan. Here be the Portuguese (119) to give
earnest. If you go through with it, you cannot choose but be a lord
at least.

_Firk._ Nay, dame, if my master prove not a lord, and you a lady,
hang me.

_Marg._ Yea, like enough, if you may loiter and tipple thus. 125

_Firk._ Tipple, dame? No, we have been bargaining with Skellum
Skanderbag:[2165] can you Dutch spreaken for a ship of silk Cyprus,
laden with sugar-candy. 129

_Enter_ Boy _with a velvet coat and an Alderman’s gown_. EYRE _puts them on_.

_Eyre._ Peace, Firk; silence, Tittle-tattle! Hodge, I’ll go through
with it. Here’s a seal-ring, and I have sent for a guarded gown[2166]
and a damask cassock. See where it comes; look here, Maggy; help me,
Firk; apparel me, Hodge; silk and satin, you mad Philistines, 135
silk and satin.

_Firk._ Ha, ha, my master will be as proud as a dog in a doublet, all
in beaten[2167] damask and velvet. 139

_Eyre._ Softly, Firk, for rearing[2168] of the nap, and wearing
threadbare my garments. How dost thou like me, Firk? How do I look,
my fine Hodge?

_Hodge._ Why, now you look like yourself, master. I warrant you,
there ’s few in the (146) city but will give you the wall,[2169] and
come upon you with[2170] the right worshipful.

_Firk._ Nails, my master looks like a threadbare cloak new turn’d and
drest. Lord, Lord, (149) to see what good raiment doth! Dame, dame,
are you not enamoured?

_Eyre._ How say’st thou, Maggy, am I not brisk? Am I not fine?

_Marg._ Fine? By my troth, sweetheart, very fine! By my troth, I
never likt thee so well (155) in my life, sweetheart: but let that
pass. I warrant, there be many women in the city have not such
handsome husbands, but only for their apparel; but let that pass too.
159

_Re-enter_ HANS _and_ SKIPPER.

Hans. _Godden day, mester. Dis be de skipper dat heb de skip van
marchandice; de commodity ben good; nempt it, master, nempt it._[2171]

_Eyre._ Godamercy, Hans; welcome, skipper. Where lies this ship of
merchandise? 164

Skip. _De skip ben in revere; dor be van sugar, civet, almonds,
cambrick, and a towsand, towsand tings, gotz sacrament; nempt it,
mester: ye sal heb good copen._[2172]

_Firk._ To him, master! O sweet master! (169) O sweet wares! Prunes,
almonds, sugar-candy, carrot-roots, turnips, O brave fatting meat!
Let not a man buy a nutmeg but yourself.

_Eyre._ Peace, Firk! Come, skipper, I’ll go aboard with you.—Hans,
have you made him drink? 175

_Skip. Yaw, yaw, ic heb veale gedrunck._[2173]

_Eyre._ Come, Hans, follow me. Skipper, thou shalt have my
countenance in the city. _Exeunt._

_Firk. Yaw heb veale gedrunck_, quoth ’a. They may well be called
butter-boxes, when (180) they drink fat veal and thick beer too. But
come, dame, I hope you’ll chide us no more.

_Marg._ No, faith, Firk; no, perdy,[2174] Hodge. I do feel honour
creep upon me, and which is more, a certain rising in my flesh; but
let that pass. 186

_Firk._ Rising in your flesh do you feel, say you? Ay, you may be
with child, but why should not my master feel a rising in his flesh,
having a gown and a gold ring on? But you are such a shrew, you ’ll
soon pull him down. 191

_Marg._ Ha, ha! prithee, peace! Thou mak’st my worship laugh; but
let that pass. Come, I’ll go in; Hodge, prithee, go before me; Firk,
follow me. 195

_Firk._ Firk doth follow: Hodge, pass out in state. _Exeunt._

SCENE II.[2175]

_Enter the_ EARL OF LINCOLN _and_ DODGER.

_Linc._ How now, good Dodger, what’s the news in France?

_Dodger._ My lord, upon the eighteenth day of May
The French and English were prepar’d to fight;
Each side with eager fury gave the sign
Of a most hot encounter. Five long hours 5
Both armies fought together; at the length
The lot of victory fell on our side.
Twelve thousand of the Frenchmen that day died,
Four thousand English, and no man of name
But Captain Hyam and young Ardington, 10
Two gallant gentlemen, I knew them well.

_Linc._ But Dodger, prithee, tell me, in this fight
How did my cousin Lacy bear himself?

_Dodger._ My lord, your cousin Lacy was not there.

_Linc._ Not there?

_Dodger._ No, my good lord.

_Linc._ Sure, thou mistakest. 15
I saw him shipp’d, and a thousand eyes beside
Were witnesses of the farewells which he gave,
When I, with weeping eyes, bid him adieu.
Dodger, take heed.

_Dodger._ My lord, I am advis’d[2176]
That what I spake is true: to prove it so, 20
His cousin Askew, that suppli’d his place,
Sent me for him from France, that secretly
He might convey himself thither.

_Linc._ Is ’t even so?
Dares he so carelessly venture his life
Upon the indignation of a king? 25
Has he despis’d my love, and spurn’d those favours
Which I with prodigal hand pour’d on his head?
He shall repent his rashness with his soul;
Since of my love he makes no estimate,
I ’ll make him wish he had not known my hate. 30
Thou hast no other news?

_Dodger._ None else, my lord.

_Linc._ None worse I know thou hast.—Procure the king
To crown his giddy brows with ample honours,
Send him chief colonel, and all my hope 34
Thus to be dash’d! But ’t is in vain to grieve,
One evil cannot a worse relieve.
Upon my life, I have found out his plot;
That old dog, Love, that fawn’d upon him so,
Love to that puling girl, his fair-cheek’d Rose,
The lord mayor’s daughter, hath distracted him, 40
And in the fire of that love’s lunacy
Hath he burnt up himself, consum’d his credit,
Lost the king’s love, yea, and I fear, his life,
Only to get a wanton to his wife,
Dodger, it is so.

_Dodger._ I fear so, my good lord. 45

_Linc._ It is so—nay, sure it cannot be!
I am at my wits’ end, Dodger!

_Dodger._ Yea, my lord.

_Linc._ Thou art acquainted with my nephew’s haunts,
Spend this gold for thy pains; go seek him out.
Watch at my lord mayor’s—there if he live, 50
Dodger, thou shalt be sure to meet with him.
Prithee, be diligent.—Lacy, thy name
Liv’d once in honour, now ’t is dead in shame.—
Be circumspect. _Exit._

_Dodger._ I warrant you, my lord. _Exit._

SCENE III.[2177]

_Enter the_ L. MAYOR _and_ MASTER SCOTT.

_L. Mayor._ Good Master Scott, I have been bold with you,
To be a witness to a wedding-knot
Betwixt young Master Hammon and my daughter.
O, stand aside; see where the lovers come.

_Enter_ MASTER HAMMON _and_ ROSE.

_Rose._ Can it be possible you love me so? 5
No, no, within those eyeballs I espy
Apparent likelihoods of flattery.
Pray now, let go my hand.

_Ham._ Sweet Mistress Rose,
Misconstrue not my words, nor misconceive
Of my affection, whose devoted soul 10
Swears that I love thee dearer than my heart.

_Rose._ As dear as your own heart? I judge it right,
Men love their hearts best when th’ are out of sight.

_Ham._ I love you, by this hand.

_Rose._ Yet hands off now!
If flesh be frail, how weak and frail ’s your vow!

_Ham._ Then by my life I swear.

_Rose._ Then do not brawl; 16
One quarrel loseth wife and life and all.
Is not your meaning thus?

_Ham._ In faith, you jest.

_Rose._ Love loves to sport; therefore leave love, y’ are best.

_L. Mayor._ What? square[2178] they, Master Scott?

_Scott._ Sir, never doubt, 20
Lovers are quickly in, and quickly out.

_Ham._ Sweet Rose, be not so strange in fancying me.
Nay, never turn aside, shun not my sight:
I am not grown so fond, to fond[2179] my love
On any that shall quit it with disdain; 25
If you will love me, so;—if not, farewell.

_L. Mayor._ Why, how now, lovers, are you both agreed?

_Ham._ Yes, faith, my lord.

_L. Mayor._ ’T is well, give me your hand.
Give me yours, daughter.—How now, both pull back!
What means this, girl?

_Rose._ I mean to live a maid. 30

_Ham._ (_Aside._) But not to die one; pause, ere that be said.

_L. Mayor._ Will you still cross me, still be obstinate?

_Ham._ Nay, chide her not, my lord, for doing well;
If she can live an happy virgin’s life,
’T is far more blessed than to be a wife. 35

_Rose._ Say, sir, I cannot: I have made a vow,
Whoever be my husband, ’t is not you.

_L. Mayor._ Your tongue is quick; but Master Hammon, know,
I bade you welcome to another end.

_Ham._ What, would you have me pule and pine and pray, 40
With “lovely lady,” “mistress of my heart,”
“Pardon your servant,” and the rhymer play,
Railing on Cupid and his tyrant’s-dart;
Or shall I undertake some martial spoil,
Wearing your glove at tourney and at tilt, 45
And tell how many gallants I unhors’d—
Sweet, will this pleasure you?

_Rose._ Yea, when wilt begin?
What, love rhymes, man? Fie on that deadly sin!

_L. Mayor._ If you will have her, I’ll make her agree.

_Ham._ Enforced love is worse than hate to me.
[_Aside._] There is a wench keeps shop in the Old Change, 51
To her will I—it is not wealth I seek.
I have enough—and will prefer her love
Before the world.—[_Aloud._] My good lord mayor, adieu,
Old love for me, I have no luck with new. _Exit._

_L. Mayor._ Now, mammet,[2180] you have well behav’d yourself, 56
But you shall curse your coyness if I live.—
Who’s within there? See you convey your mistress
Straight to th’ Old Ford! I’ll keep you straight enough,
Fore God, I would have sworn the puling girl
Would willingly accepted Hammon’s love; 61
But banish him, my thoughts!—Go, minion, in! _Exit_ ROSE.
Now tell me, Master Scott, would you have thought
That Master Simon Eyre, the shoemaker,
Had been of wealth to buy such merchandise?

_Scott._ ’T was well, my lord, your honour and myself 66
Grew partners with him; for your bills of lading
Shew that Eyre’s gains in one commodity
Rise at the least to full three thousand pound
Besides like gain in other merchandise. 70

_L. Mayor._ Well, he shall spend some of his thousands now,
For I have sent for him to the Guildhall.
_Enter_ EYRE.
See, where he comes.—Good morrow, Master Eyre.

_Eyre._ Poor Simon Eyre, my lord, your shoemaker.

_L. Mayor._ Well, well, it likes[2181] yourself to term you so. 75
_Enter_ DODGER.
Now Master Dodger, what’s the news with you?

_Dodger._ I’d gladly speak in private to your honour.

_L. Mayor._ You shall, you shall.—Master Eyre and Master Scott,
I have some business with this gentleman;
I pray, let me entreat you to walk before 80
To the Guildhall; I’ll follow presently.
Master Eyre, I hope ere noon to call you sheriff.

_Eyre._ I would not care, my lord, if you might call me
King of Spain.—Come, Master Scott.
[_Exeunt_ EYRE _and_ SCOTT.]

_L. Mayor._ Now, Master Dodger, what ’s the news you bring? 85

_Dodger._ The Earl of Lincoln by me greets your lordship,
And earnestly requests you, if you can,
Inform him where his nephew Lacy keeps.

_L. Mayor._ Is not his nephew Lacy now in France?

_Dodger._ No, I assure your Lordship, but disguis’d 90
Lurks here in London.

_L. Mayor._ London? Is’t even so?
It may be; but upon my faith and soul,
I know not where he lives, or whether he lives:
So tell my Lord of Lincoln.—Lurk in London?
Well, Master Dodger, you perhaps may start him; 95
Be but the means to rid him into France,
I’ll give you a dozen angels[2182] for your pains:
So much I love his honour, hate his nephew.
And, prithee, so inform thy lord from me.

_Dodger._ I take my leave. _Exit_ DODGER.

_L. Mayor._ Farewell, good Master Dodger.
Lacy in London? I dare pawn my life, 101
My daughter knows thereof, and for that cause
Deni’d young Master Hammon in his love.
Well, I am glad I sent her to Old Ford.
Gods Lord, ’t is late! to Guildhall I must hie;
I know my brethren stay[2183] my company. _Exit._ 106

SCENE IV.[2184]

_Enter_ FIRK, _Eyre’s wife_ [MARGERY, LACY _as_] HANS, _and_ ROGER.

_Marg._ Thou goest too fast for me, Roger. O, Firk.

_Firk._ Ay, forsooth.

_Marg._ I pray thee, run—do you hear?—run to Guildhall, and learn
if my husband, Master (5) Eyre, will take that worshipful vocation of
Master Sheriff upon him. Hie thee, good Firk.

_Firk._ Take it? Well, I go; an he should not take it, Firk swears to
forswear him. Yes, forsooth, I go to Guildhall. 10

_Marg._ Nay, when? Thou art too compendious and tedious.

_Firk._ O rare, your excellence is full of eloquence; how like a
new cart-wheel my dame speaks, and she looks like an old musty
ale-bottle[2185] (15) going to scalding.

_Marg._ Nay, when? Thou wilt make me melancholy.

_Firk._ God forbid your worship should fall into that humour;—I run.
_Exit._ 20

_Marg._ Let me see now, Roger and Hans.

_Hodge._ Ay, forsooth, dame—mistress, I should say, but the old term
so sticks to the roof of my mouth, I can hardly lick it off.

_Marg._ Even what thou wilt, good Roger; (25) dame is a fair name for
any honest Christian; but let that pass. How dost thou, Hans?

_Hans. Mee tanck you, vro._[2186]

_Marg._ Well, Hans and Roger, you see, God hath blest your
master, and, perdy, if ever (30) he comes to be Master Sheriff
of London—as we are all mortal—you shall see, I will have some
odd thing or other in a corner for your: I will not be your
back-friend;[2187] but let that pass. Hans, pray thee, tie my shoe. 35

_Hans. Yaw, ic sal, vro._[2188]

_Marg._ Roger, thou know’st the length of my foot; as it is none of
the biggest, so I thank God, it is handsome enough; prithee, let me
have a pair of shoes made, cork, good Roger, (40) wooden heel too.

_Hodge._ You shall.

_Marg._ Art thou acquainted with never a farthingale-maker, nor a
French hood-maker? I must enlarge my bum, ha, ha! How shall (45) I
look in a hood, I wonder! Perdy, oddly I think.

_Hodge._ [_Aside._] As a cat out of a pillory.— Very well, I warrant
you, mistress.

_Marg._ Indeed, all flesh is grass; and, (50) Roger, canst thou tell
where I may buy a good hair?

_Hodge._ Yes, forsooth, at the poulterer’s in Gracious Street.

_Marg._ Thou art an ungracious wag: perdy, (55) I mean a false hair
for my periwig.

_Hodge._ Why, mistress, the next time I cut my beard, you shall have
the shavings of it; but they are all true hairs.

_Marg._ It is very hot, I must get me a fan (60) or else a mask.

_Hodge._ [_Aside._] So you had need, to hide your wicked face.

_Marg._ Fie, upon it, how costly this world’s calling is; perdy, but
that it is one of the wonderful (65) works of God, I would not deal
with it.—Is not Firk come yet? Hans, be not so sad, let it pass and
vanish, as my husband’s worship says.

_Hans. Ick bin vrolicke, lot see yow soo._[2189] 70

_Hodge._ Mistress, will you drink[2190] a pipe of tobacco?

_Marg._ Oh, fie upon it, Roger, perdy! These filthy tobacco-pipes are
the most idle slavering baubles that ever I felt. Out upon it! God 75
bless us, men look not like men that use them.

_Enter_ RALPH, _being lame_.

_Hodge._ What, fellow Ralph? Mistress, look here, Jane’s husband!
Why, how now, lame? Hans, make much of him, he’s a brother of our
trade, a good workman, and a tall[2191] soldier. 80

_Hans._ You be welcome, broder.

_Marg._ Perdy, I knew him not. How dost thou, good Ralph? I am glad
to see thee well.

_Ralph._ I would to God you saw me, dame, as well
As when I went from London into France. 85

_Marg._ Trust me, I am sorry, Ralph, to see thee impotent. Lord,
how the wars have made him sunburnt! The left leg is not well; ’t
was a fair gift of God the infirmity took not hold a little higher,
considering thou camest from (90) France; but let that pass.

_Ralph._ I am glad to see you well, and I rejoice
To hear that God hath blest my master so
Since my departure.

_Marg._ Yea, truly, Ralph, I thank my (95) Maker; but let that pass.

_Hodge._ And, sirrah Ralph, what news, what news in France?

_Ralph._ Tell me, good Roger, first, what news in England?
How does my Jane? When didst thou see my wife? 100
Where lives my poor heart? She’ll be poor indeed,
Now I want limbs to get whereon to feed.

_Hodge._ Limbs? Hast thou not hands, man? Thou shalt never see a
shoemaker want bread, though he have but three fingers on a hand. 105

_Ralph._ Yet all this while I hear not of my Jane.

_Marg._ O Ralph, your wife,—perdy, we know not what ’s become of
her. She was here a while, and because she was married, grew more
stately than became her; I checkt her, and (110) so forth; away she
flung, never returned, nor said bye nor bah; and, Ralph, you know,
“ka me, ka thee.”[2192] And, so as I tell ye——Roger, is not Firk
come yet?

_Hodge._ No, forsooth. 115

_Marg._ And so, indeed, we heard not of her, but I hear she lives in
London; but let that pass. If she had wanted, she might have opened
her case to me or my husband, or to any of my men; I am sure, there’s
not any of them, (120) perdy, but would have done her good to his
power. Hans, look if Firk be come.

Hans. _Yaw, ik sal, vro._[2193] _Exit_ HANS.

_Marg._ And so, as I said—but, Ralph, why dost thou weep? Thou
knowest that naked (125) we came out of our mother’s womb, and naked
we must return; and, therefore, thank God for all things.

_Hodge._ No, faith, Jane is a stranger here; but, Ralph, pull up a
good heart. I know thou (130) hast one. Thy wife, man, is in London;
one told me, he saw her a while ago very brave[2194] and neat; we’ll
ferret her out, an London hold her.

_Marg._ Alas, poor soul, he’s overcome (135) with sorrow; he does
but as I do, weep for the loss of any good thing. But, Ralph, get
thee in, call for some meat and drink, thou shalt find me worshipful
towards thee.

_Ralph._ I thank you, dame; since I want limbs and lands, 140
I’ll trust to God, my good friends, and my hands. _Exit._

_Enter_ HANS _and_ FIRK _running_.

_Firk._ Run, good Hans! O Hodge, O mistress! Hodge, heave up thine
ears; mistress, smug up[2195] your looks; on with your best apparel;
my master is chosen, my master is called, nay, (145) condemn’d by the
cry of the country to be sheriff of the city for this famous year now
to come. And, time now being, a great many men in black gowns were
askt for their voices and their hands, and my master had all their 150
fists about his ears presently, and they cried ’Ay, ay, ay, ay,’—and
so I came away—
Wherefore without all other grieve
I do salute you, Mistress Shrieve.[2196]

Hans. _Yaw, my mester is de groot man, de shrieve._ 155

_Hodge._ Did not I tell you, mistress? Now I may boldly say:
Good-morrow to your worship.

_Marg._ Good-morrow, good Roger. I thank (160) you, my good people
all.—Firk, hold up thy hand: here ’s a three-penny piece for thy
tidings.

_Firk._ ’T is but three-half-pence, I think. Yes, ’t is three-pence,
I smell the rose.[2197] 165

_Hodge._ But, mistress, be rul’d by me, and do not speak so pulingly.

_Firk._ ’T is her worship speaks so, and not she. No, faith,
mistress, speak me in the old key: “To it, Firk;” “there, good Firk;”
(170) “ply your business, Hodge;” “Hodge, with a full mouth;” “I’ll
fill your bellies with good cheer, till they cry twang.”

_Enter_ EYRE _wearing a gold chain_.

Hans. _See, myn liever broder, heer compt my meester._[2198] 175

_Marg._ Welcome home, Master Shrieve; I pray God continue you in
health and wealth.

_Eyre._ See here, my Maggy, a chain, a gold chain for Simon Eyre. I
shall make thee a lady; here’s a French hood for thee; on with (180)
it, on with it! dress thy brows with this flap of a shoulder of
mutton,[2199] to make thee look lovely. Where be my fine men? Roger,
I’ll make over my shop and tools to thee; Firk, thou shalt be the
foreman; Hans, thou shalt have (185) an hundred for twenty.[2200] Be
as mad knaves as your master Sim Eyre hath been, and you shall live
to be sheriffs of London.—How dost thou like me, Margery? Prince am
I none, yet (189) am I princely born. Firk, Hodge, and Hans!

_All Three._ Ay, forsooth, what says your worship, Master Sheriff?

_Eyre._ Worship and honour, you Babylonian knaves, for the gentle
craft. But I forgot myself, I am bidden by my lord mayor to dinner
(195) to Old Ford; he’s gone before. I must after. Come, Madge, on
with your trinkets! Now, my true Trojans, my fine Firk, my dapper
Hodge, my honest Hans, some device, some odd cratchets, some morris,
or such like, for the (200) honour of the gentlemen shoemakers. Meet
me at Old Ford, you know my mind. Come, Madge, away. Shut up the
shop, knaves, and make holiday. _Exeunt._

_Firk._ O rare! O brave! Come, Hodge; follow me, Hans; 206
We’ll be with them for a morris-dance. _Exeunt._

SCENE V.[2201]

_Enter the_ LORD MAYOR, [ROSE,] EYRE, _his wife_ [MARGERY] _in a French hood_, SYBIL, _and other_ Servants.

_L. Mayor._ Trust me, you are as welcome to Old Ford
As I myself.

_Marg._ Truly, I thank your lordship.

_L. Mayor._ Would our bad cheer were worth the thanks you give.

_Eyre._ Good cheer, my lord mayor, fine cheer! A fine house, fine
walls, all fine and neat. 5

_L. Mayor._ Now, by my troth, I’ll tell thee, Master Eyre,
It does me good, and all my brethren,
That such a madcap fellow as thyself
Is ent’red into our society.

_Marg._ Ay, but, my lord, he must learn now to put on gravity. 10

_Eyre._ Peace, Maggy, a fig for gravity! When I go to Guildhall in my
scarlet gown, I’ll look as demurely as a saint, and speak as gravely
as a justice of peace; but now I am here at Old Ford, at my good lord
mayor’s house, let it (15) go by, vanish, Maggy, I’ll be merry; away
with flip-flap, these fooleries, these gulleries. What, honey? Prince
am I none, yet am I princely born. What says my lord mayor?

_L. Mayor._ Ha, ha, ha! I had rather than (20) a thousand pound, I
had an heart but half so light as yours.

_Eyre._ Why, what should I do, my lord? A pound of care pays not a
dram of debt. Hum, let’s be merry, whiles we are young; old age, (25)
sack and sugar will steal upon us, ere we be aware.

THE FIRST THREE MEN’S SONG[2202]

O the month of May, the merry month of May,
So frolick, so gay, and so green, so green, so green!
O, and then did I unto my true love say 30
“Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my summer’s queen!

“Now the nightingale, the pretty nightingale,
The sweetest singer in all the forest’s choir,
Entreats thee, sweet Peggy, to hear thy true love’s tale:
Lo, yonder she sitteth, her breast against a brier. 35

“But O, I spy the cuckoo, the cuckoo, the cuckoo;
See where she sitteth: come away, my joy,
Come away, I prithee: I do not like the cuckoo
Should sing where my Peggy and I kiss and toy.”

O the month of May, the merry month of May, 40
So frolick, so gay, and so green, so green, so green!
And then did I unto my true love say:
“Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my summer’s queen!”

_L. Mayor._ It’s well done. Mistress Eyre, pray, give good counsel
To my daughter. 45

_Marg._ I hope, Mistress Rose will have the grace to take nothing
that ’s bad.

_L. Mayor._ Pray God she do; for i’ faith, Mistress Eyre,
I would bestow upon that peevish girl
A thousand marks more than I mean to give her
Upon condition she’d be rul’d by me. 51
The ape still crosseth me. There came of late
A proper gentleman of fair revenues,
Whom gladly I would call son-in-law:
But my fine cockney would have none of him.
You ’ll prove a coxcomb for it, ere you die: 56
A courtier, or no man, must please your eye.

_Eyre._ Be rul’d, sweet Rose: th’ art ripe for a man. Marry not with
a boy that has no more hair on his face than thou hast on thy 60
cheeks. A courtier, wash, go by, stand not upon pishery-pashery:
those silken fellows are but painted images, outsides, outsides,
Rose; their inner linings are torn. No, my fine mouse, marry me with
a gentleman grocer like my lord (65) mayor, your father; a grocer is
a sweet trade: plums, plums. Had I a son or daughter should marry out
of the generation and blood of the shoemakers, he should pack. What,
the gentle trade is a living for a man through Europe, through the
world. 71
_A noise within of a tabor and a pipe._

_L. Mayor._ What noise is this?

_Eyre._ O my lord mayor, a crew of good fellows that for love
to your honour are come hither with a morris-dance. Come in, my
Mesopotamians, cheerily. 76

_Enter_ HODGE, HANS, RALPH, FIRK, _and other_ Shoemakers, _in a morris; after a little dancing, the_ LORD MAYOR _speaks_.

_L. Mayor._ Master Eyre, are all these shoemakers?

_Eyre._ All cordwainers, my good lord mayor.

_Rose._ [_Aside._] How like my Lacy looks yond shoemaker!

_Hans._ [_Aside._] O that I durst but speak unto my love! 80

_L. Mayor._ Sybil, go fetch some wine to make these drink. You are
all welcome.

_All._ We thank your lordship.
ROSE _takes a cup of wine and goes to_ HANS.

_Rose._ For his sake whose fair shape thou represent’st,
Good friend I drink to thee. 85

Hans. _Ic bedancke, good frister._[2203]

_Marg._ I see. Mistress Rose, you do not want judgment; you have
drunk to the properest man I keep.

_Firk._ Here be some have done their parts to be as proper as he. 91

_L. Mayor._ Well, urgent business calls me back to London.
Good fellows, first go in and taste our cheer;
And to make merry as you homeward go,
Spend these two angels in beer at Stratford-Bow. 95

_Eyre._ To these two, my mad lads, Sim Eyre adds another; then
cheerily, Firk; tickle it, Hans, and all for the honour of
shoemakers. _All go dancing out._

_L. Mayor._ Come, Master Eyre, let ’s have your company. _Exeunt._

_Rose._ Sybil, what shall I do? 100

_Sybil._ Why, what ’s the matter?

_Rose._ That Hans the shoemaker is my love Lacy,
Disguis’d in that attire to find me out.
How should I find the means to speak with him? 104

_Sybil._ What, mistress, never fear; I dare venture my maidenhead to
nothing, and that ’s great odds, that Hans the Dutchman, when we come
to London, shall not only see and speak with you, but in spite of all
your father’s policies steal you away and marry you. Will not this
please you? 111

_Rose._ Do this, and ever be assured of my love.

_Sybil._ Away, then, and follow your father to London, lest your
absence cause him to suspect something: 115
To-morrow, if my counsel be obey’d,
I’ll bind you prentice to the gentle trade. [_Exeunt._]