Part 5
_Marg._ See to rise? I hope ’tis time enough, ’tis early enough for any woman to be seen abroad. I marvel how many wives in Tower Street are up so soon. Gods me, ’tis not noon,--here’s a yawling![28]
[28] Bawling.
_Eyre._ Peace, Margery, peace! Where’s Cicely Bumtrinket, your maid? She has a privy fault, she farts in her sleep. Call the quean up; if my men want shoe-thread, I’ll swinge her in a stirrup.
_Firk._ Yet, that’s but a dry beating; here’s still a sign of drought.
_Enter_ LACY _disguised, singing_.
_Lacy._ _Der was een bore van Gelderland Frolick sie byen; He was als dronck he cold nyet stand, Upsolce sie byen. Tap eens de canneken, Drincke, schone mannekin._[29]
[29]
There was a boor from Gelderland, Jolly they be; He was so drunk he could not stand, Drunken they be: Clink then the cannikin, Drink, pretty mannikin!
_Firk._ Master, for my life, yonder’s a brother of the gentle craft; if he bear not Saint Hugh’s bones,[30] I’ll forfeit my bones; he’s some uplandish workman: hire him, good master, that I may learn some gibble-gabble; ’twill make us work the faster.
[30] St. Hugh was the patron saint of shoemakers, and his bones were supposed to have been made into shoemaker’s tools, for which this came to be a common term.
_Eyre._ Peace, Firk! A hard world! Let him pass, let him vanish; we have journeymen enow. Peace, my fine Firk!
_Marg._ Nay, nay, y’are best follow your man’s counsel; you shall see what will come on’t: we have not men enow, but we must entertain every butter-box; but let that pass.
_Hodge._ Dame, ’fore God, if my master follow your counsel, he’ll consume little beef. He shall be glad of men, and he can catch them.
_Firk._ Ay, that he shall.
_Hodge._ ’Fore God, a proper man, and I warrant, a fine workman. Master, farewell; dame, adieu; if such a man as he cannot find work, Hodge is not for you. [_Offers to go._
_Eyre._ Stay, my fine Hodge.
_Firk._ Faith, an your foreman go, dame, you must take a journey to seek a new journeyman; if Roger remove, Firk follows. If Saint Hugh’s bones shall not be set a-work, I may prick mine awl in the walls, and go play. Fare ye well, master; good-bye, dame.
_Eyre._ Tarry, my fine Hodge, my brisk foreman! Stay, Firk! Peace, pudding-broth! By the Lord of Ludgate, I love my men as my life. Peace, you gallimafry[31] Hodge, if he want work, I’ll hire him. One of you to him; stay,--he comes to us.
[31] A dish of different hashed meats.
_Lacy._ _Goeden dach, meester, ende u vro oak._[32]
[32] Good day, master, and your wife too.
_Firk._ Nails, if I should speak after him without drinking, I should choke. And you, friend Oake, are you of the gentle craft?
_Lacy._ _Yaw, yaw, ik bin den skomawker._[33]
[33] Yes, yes, I am a shoemaker.
_Firk._ _Den skomaker_, quoth a! And hark you, _skomaker_, have you all your tools, a good rubbing-pin, a good stopper, a good dresser, your four sorts of awls, and your two balls of wax, your paring knife, your hand- and thumb-leathers, and good St. Hugh’s bones to smooth up your work?
_Lacy._ _Yaw, yaw; be niet vorveard. Ik hab all de dingen voour mack skooes groot and cleane._[34]
[34] Yes, yes; be not afraid. I have everything, to make boots big and little.
_Firk._ Ha, ha! Good master, hire him; he’ll make me laugh so that I shall work more in mirth than I can in earnest.
_Eyre._ Hear ye, friend, have ye any skill in the mystery of cordwainers?
_Lacy._ _Ik weet niet wat yow seg; ich verstaw you niet._[35]
[35] I don’t know what you say; I don’t understand you.
_Firk._ Why, thus, man: (_Imitating by gesture a shoemaker at work_) _Ick verste u niet_, quoth a.
_Lacy._ _Yaw, yaw, yaw; ick can dat wel doen._[36]
[36] Yes, yes, yes; I can do that very well.
_Firk._ _Yaw, yaw!_ He speaks yawing like a jackdaw that gapes to be fed with cheese-curds. Oh, he’ll give a villanous pull at a can of double-beer; but Hodge and I have the vantage, we must drink first, because we are the eldest journeymen.
_Eyre._ What is thy name?
_Lacy._ Hans--Hans Meulter.
_Eyre._ Give me thy hand; th’art welcome.--Hodge, entertain him; Firk, bid him welcome; come, Hans. Run, wife, bid your maids, your trullibubs,[37] make ready my fine men’s breakfasts. To him, Hodge!
[37] Slatterns, sluts.
_Hodge._ Hans, th’art welcome; use thyself friendly, for we are good fellows; if not, thou shalt be fought with, wert thou bigger than a giant.
_Firk._ Yea, and drunk with, wert thou Gargantua. My master keeps no cowards, I tell thee.--Ho, boy, bring him an heel-block, here’s a new journeyman.
_Enter_ Boy.
_Lacy._ _O, ich wersto you; ich moet een halve dossen cans betaelen; here, boy, nempt dis skilling, tap eens freelicke._[38] [_Exit_ Boy.
[38] O, I understand you; I must pay for half-a-dozen cans; here, boy, take this shilling, tap this once freely.
_Eyre._ Quick, snipper-snapper, away! Firk, scour thy throat, thou shalt wash it with Castilian liquor.
_Enter_ Boy.
Come, my last of the fives, give me a can. Have to thee, Hans; here, Hodge; here, Firk; drink, you mad Greeks, and work like true Trojans, and pray for Simon Eyre, the shoemaker.--Here, Hans, and th’art welcome.
_Firk._ Lo, dame, you would have lost a good fellow that will teach us to laugh. This beer came hopping in well.
_Marg._ Simon, it is almost seven.
_Eyre._ Is’t so, Dame Clapper-dudgeon?[39] Is’t seven a clock, and my men’s breakfast not ready? Trip and go, you soused conger,[40] away! Come, you mad hyperboreans; follow me, Hodge; follow me, Hans; come after, my fine Firk; to work, to work a while, and then to breakfast! [_Exit._
[39] Cant term for a beggar.
[40] Conger-eel.
_Firk._ Soft! _Yaw, yaw_, good Hans, though my master have no more wit but to call you afore me, I am not so foolish to go behind you, I being the elder journeyman. [_Exeunt._
[Illustration]
## SCENE IV.--_A Field near Old Ford._
_Holloaing within. Enter ~Master~_ WARNER _and ~Master~_ HAMMON, _attired as ~Hunters~_.
_Ham._ Cousin, beat every brake, the game’s not far, This way with wingèd feet he fled from death, Whilst the pursuing hounds, scenting his steps, Find out his highway to destruction. Besides, the miller’s boy told me even now, He saw him take soil,[41] and he holloaed him, Affirming him to have been so embost[42] That long he could not hold.
[41] Take cover.
[42] Spent; panting with exhaustion.
_Warn._ If it be so, ’Tis best we trace these meadows by Old Ford.
_A noise of ~Hunters~ within. Enter a ~Boy~._
_Ham._ How now, boy? Where’s the deer? speak, saw’st thou him?
_Boy._ O yea; I saw him leap through a hedge, and then over a ditch, then at my lord mayor’s pale, over he skipped me, and in he went me, and “holla” the hunters cried, and “there, boy; there, boy!” But there he is, ’a mine honesty.
_Ham._ Boy, God amercy. Cousin, let’s away; I hope we shall find better sport to-day. [_Exeunt._
[Illustration]
## SCENE V.--_Another part of the Field._
_Hunting within. Enter_ ROSE _and_ SYBIL.
_Rose._ Why, Sybil, wilt thou prove a forester?
_Sybil._ Upon some, no; forester, go by; no, faith, mistress. The deer came running into the barn through the orchard and over the pale; I wot well, I looked as pale as a new cheese to see him. But whip, says Goodman Pin-close, up with his flail, and our Nick with a prong, and down he fell, and they upon him, and I upon them. By my troth, we had such sport; and in the end we ended him; his throat we cut, flayed him, unhorned him, and my lord mayor shall eat of him anon, when he comes. [_Horns sound within._
_Rose._ Hark, hark, the hunters come; y’are best take heed, They’ll have a saying to you for this deed.
_Enter_ Master HAMMON, Master WARNER, Huntsmen, _and_ Boy.
_Ham._ God save you, fair ladies.
_Sybil._ Ladies! O gross![43]
[43] Stupid.
_Warn._ Came not a buck this way?
_Rose._ No, but two does.
_Ham._ And which way went they? Faith, we’ll hunt at those.
_Sybil._ At those? upon some, no: when, can you tell?
_Warn._ Upon some, ay?
_Sybil._ Good Lord!
_Warn._ Wounds! Then farewell!
_Ham._ Boy, which way went he?
_Boy._ This way, sir, he ran.
_Ham._ This way he ran indeed, fair Mistress Rose; Our game was lately in your orchard seen.
_Warn._ Can you advise, which way he took his flight?
_Sybil._ Follow your nose; his horns will guide you right.
_Warn._ Th’art a mad wench.
_Sybil._ O, rich!
_Rose._ Trust me, not I. It is not like that the wild forest-deer Would come so near to places of resort; You are deceived, he fled some other way.
_Warn._ Which way, my sugar-candy, can you shew?
_Sybil._ Come up, good honeysops, upon some, no.
_Rose._ Why do you stay, and not pursue your game?
_Sybil._ I’ll hold my life, their hunting-nags be lame.
_Ham._ A deer more dear is found within this place.
_Rose._ But not the deer, sir, which you had in chase.
_Ham._ I chased the deer, but this dear chaseth me.
_Rose._ The strangest hunting that ever I see. But where’s your park? [_She offers to go away._
_Ham._ ’Tis here: O stay!
_Rose._ Impale me, and then I will not stray.
_Warn._ They wrangle, wench; we are more kind than they.
_Sybil._ What kind of hart is that dear heart, you seek?
_Warn._ A hart, dear heart.
_Sybil._ Who ever saw the like?
_Rose._ To lose your heart, is’t possible you can?
_Ham._ My heart is lost.
_Rose._ Alack, good gentleman!
_Ham._ This poor lost hart would I wish you might find.
_Rose._ You, by such luck, might prove your hart a hind.
_Ham._ Why, Luck had horns, so have I heard some say.
_Rose._ Now, God, an’t be his will, send Luck into your way.
_Enter the_ LORD MAYOR _and_ Servants.
_L. Mayor._ What, Master Hammon? Welcome to Old Ford!
_Sybil._ Gods pittikins, hands off, sir! Here’s my lord.
_L. Mayor._ I hear you had ill luck, and lost your game.
_Ham._ ’Tis true, my lord.
_L. Mayor._ I am sorry for the same. What gentleman is this?
_Ham._ My brother-in-law.
_L. Mayor._ Y’are welcome both; sith Fortune offers you Into my hands, you shall not part from hence, Until you have refreshed your wearied limbs. Go, Sybil, cover the board! You shall be guest To no good cheer, but even a hunter’s feast.
_Ham._ I thank your lordship.--Cousin, on my life, For our lost venison I shall find a wife. [_Exeunt._
_L. Mayor._ In, gentlemen; I’ll not be absent long.-- This Hammon is a proper gentleman, A citizen by birth, fairly allied; How fit an husband were he for my girl! Well, I will in, and do the best I can, To match my daughter to this gentleman. [_Exit._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
ACT THE THIRD.
## SCENE I.--_A Room in_ EYRE’S _House_.
_Enter_ LACY _otherwise_ HANS, Skipper, HODGE, _and_ FIRK.
SKIP. _Ick sal yow wat seggen, Hans; dis skip, dot comen from Candy, is al vol, by Got’s sacrament, van sugar, civet, almonds, cambrick, end alle dingen, towsand towsand ding. Nempt it, Hans, nempt it vor v meester. Daer be de bils van laden. Your meester Simon Eyre sal hae good copen. Wat seggen yow, Hans?_[44]
[44] I’ll tell you what, Hans; this ship that is come from Candia, is quite full, by God’s sacrament, of sugar, civet, almonds, cambric, and all things; a thousand, thousand things. Take it, Hans, take it for your master. There are the bills of lading. Your master, Simon Eyre, shall have a good bargain. What say you, Hans?
_Firk._ _Wat seggen de reggen de copen, slopen_--laugh, Hodge, laugh!
_Hans._ _Mine liever broder Firk, bringt Meester Eyre tot det signe vn Swannekin; daer sal yow finde dis skipper end me. Wat seggen yow, broder Firk? Doot it, Hodge._[45] Come, skipper. [_Exeunt._
[45] My dear brother Firk, bring Master Eyre to the sign of the Swan; there shall you find this skipper and me. What say you, brother Firk? Do it, Hodge.--[There were at this time two inns with the sign of the Swan in London, one at Dowgate, the other in Old Fish Street.]
_Firk._ Bring him, quoth you? Here’s no knavery, to bring my master to buy a ship worth 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, 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 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,[46] thou wouldst say; here they be, Firk; hark, they jingle in my pocket like St. Mary Overy’s bells.[47]
[46] A coin worth about three pounds twelve shillings.
[47] “East from the Bishop of Winchester’s house, directly over against it, stands a fair church, called St. Mary over the Rie, or Overie, that is, over the water.”--_Stow’s Survey of London._
_Enter_ EYRE _and_ 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.
_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.
_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 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.
_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 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.
_Marg._ Yea, yea, ’tis well; I must be called rubbish, kitchen-stuff, for a sort 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.
_Hodge._ Nay, stay, Firk; thou shalt not go alone.
_Marg._ I pray, let them go; there be more maids than Mawkin, more men than Hodge, and more fools than Firk.
_Firk._ Fools? Nails! if I tarry now, I would my guts might be turned to shoe-thread.
_Hodge._ And if I stay, I pray God I may be turned to a Turk, and set in Finsbury[48] for boys to shoot at.--Come, Firk.
[48] Finsbury was a famous practising ground for archery at this time.
_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;[49] out of my sight! Move me not! Have not I ta’en you from selling 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 with my journeymen? Look, you powder-beef-quean, on the face of Hodge, here’s a face for a lord.
[49] A name given to Dutchwomen.
_Firk._ And here’s a face for any lady in Christendom.
_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 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 with this liquor. Where be the odd ten? No more, Madge, no more.--Well said. 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.
_Firk._ And I a pair of shoes for Sybil, my lord’s maid. I deal with her.
_Eyre._ Sybil? Fie, defile not thy fine workmanly fingers with the feet of kitchenstuff and basting-ladles. Ladies of the court, fine ladies, my lads, commit their feet to our apparelling; put gross work to Hans. Yark and seam, yark and seam!
_Firk._ For yarking and seaming let me alone, an I come to’t.
_Hodge._ Well, master, all this is from the bias.[50] 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 to give earnest. If you go through with it, you cannot choose but be a lord at least.
[50] By the way, beside the question.
_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.
_Firk._ Tipple, dame? No, we have been bargaining with Skellum Skanderbag:[51] can you Dutch spreaken for a ship of silk Cyprus, laden with sugar-candy.
[51] German: Schelm, a scoundrel. Skanderbag, or Scander Beg (_i.e._ Lord Alexander), a Turkish name for John Kastriota, the Albanian hero, who freed his country from the yoke of the Turks (1443-1467).
_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[52] and a damask cassock. See where it comes; look here, Maggy; help me, Firk; apparel me, Hodge; silk and satin, you mad Philistines, silk and satin.
[52] A robe ornamented with guards or facings.
_Firk._ Ha, ha, my master will be as proud as a dog in a doublet, all in beaten[53] damask and velvet.
[53] Stamped.
_Eyre._ Softly, Firk, for rearing[54] of the nap, and wearing threadbare my garments. How dost thou like me, Firk? How do I look, my fine Hodge?
[54] Raising up, ruffling.
_Hodge._ Why, now you look like yourself, master. I warrant you, there’s few in the city, but will give you the wall, and come upon you with the right worshipful.
_Firk._ Nails, my master looks like a threadbare cloak new turned and dressed. Lord, Lord, 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 liked thee so well 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.
_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._[55]
[55] Good day, master. This is the skipper that has the ship of merchandise; the commodity is good; take it, master, take it.
_Eyre._ Godamercy, Hans; welcome, skipper. Where lies this ship of merchandise?
_Skip._ _De skip ben in revere; dor be van Sugar, cyvet, almonds, cambrick, and a towsand towsand tings, gotz sacrament; nempt it, mester: ye sal heb good copen._[56]
[56] The ship lies in the river; there are sugar, civet, almonds, cambric, and a thousand thousand things, by God’s sacrament, take it, master; you shall have a good bargain.
_Firk._ To him, master! O sweet master! 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?
_Skip._ _Yaw, yaw, ic heb veale gedrunck._[57]
[57] Yes, yes, I have drunk well.
_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 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,[58] Hodge. I do feel honour creep upon me, and which is more, a certain rising in my flesh; but let that pass.
[58] Fr. _Par Dieu_. The word here means “truly.”
_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.
_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.
_Firk._ Firk doth follow: Hodge, pass out in state. [_Exeunt._
[Illustration]
## SCENE II.--_London: a Room in_ LINCOLN’S _House_.
_Enter_ the EARL OF LINCOLN _and_ DODGER.
_Lincoln._ How now, good Dodger, what’s the news in France?
_Dodger._ My lord, upon the eighteenth day of May The French and English were prepared to fight; Each side with eager fury gave the sign Of a most hot encounter. Five long hours 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, Two gallant gentlemen, I knew them well.
_Lincoln._ But Dodger, prithee, tell me, in this fight How did my cousin Lacy bear himself?
_Dodger._ My lord, your cousin Lacy was not there.
_Lincoln._ Not there?
_Dodger._ No, my good lord.
_Lincoln._ Sure, thou mistakest. I saw him shipped, 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 advised, That what I spake is true: to prove it so, His cousin Askew, that supplied his place, Sent me for him from France, that secretly He might convey himself thither.
_Lincoln._ Is’t even so? Dares he so carelessly venture his life Upon the indignation of a king? Has he despised my love, and spurned those favours Which I with prodigal hand poured 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. Thou hast no other news?
_Dodger._ None else, my lord.