A dozen cans of beer for my journeymen!

Hear 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,

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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

kitchen-stuff and basting-ladles! Ladies of the Court, fine

ladies, my lads – commit their feet to our apparelling. Put gross

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work to Hans. Yerk and seam, yerk and seam.

FIRK

For yerking and seaming let me alone, an’ I come to’t.

HODGE

Well, master, all this is from the bias. Do you remember the

ship my fellow Hans told you of? The skipper and he are both

drinking at the Swan. Here be the portagues to give earnest. If

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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.

MARGERY

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

FIRK

Tipple, dame? No, we have been bargaining with Skellum –

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Skanderbag-can-you-Dutch-spreaken for a ship of silk cypress,

laden with sugar-candy.

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 and a

damask cassock. See where it comes – look here, Madgy! Help

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me, Firk; apparel me, Hodge. Silk and satin, you mad

Philistines, silk and satin!

FIRK

Ha, ha! My master will be as proud as a dog in a doublet, all in

beaten damask and velvet.

EYRE

Softly, Firk, for rearing of the nap, and wearing threadbare my

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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 city but will give you the wall, and come upon you

with the ‘Right Worshipful’.

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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 sayst thou, Madgy? Am I not brisk? Am I not fine?

MARGERY

Fine? By my troth, sweetheart, very fine. By my troth, I never

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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.

LACY

Godden day, meester. Dis be de skipper dat heb de skip van

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merchandise. De commodity ben good: nempt it, meester,

nempt it.

EYRE

Godamercy, Hans. Welcome, skipper. Where lies this ship of

merchandise?

SKIPPER

De skip ben in revere. Dor be van sugar, civet, almonds,

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cambric, end a towsand towsand tings, Got’s sacrament! Nempt

it, meester; yow sal heb good copen.

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.

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EYRE

Peace, Firk. Come skipper, I’ll go aboard with you. Hans, have

you made him drink?

SKIPPER

Yaw, yaw, ick heb veale gedrunck.

EYRE

Come, Hans, follow me. Skipper, thou shalt have my countenance

in the city.

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