ALL

[Singing] Hey down, a-down, down derry.

HODGE

Well said, my hearts! Ply your work today - we loitered yesterday.

To it, pell-mell, that we may live to be Lord Mayors, or aldermen

at least.

FIRK

[Singing] Hey down a-down derry.

5

HODGE

Well said, I’faith! How sayst thou, Hans: doth not Firk tickle it?

LACY

Yaw, meester.

FIRK

Not so, neither. My organ-pipe squeaks this morning for want

of liquoring. [Sings] Hey down a-down derry.

LACY

Forward, Firk, tow best un jolly youngster. Hort, ay, meester, ick

10

bid yow cut me un pair vampres for Meester Jeffrey’s bootes.

HODGE

Thou shalt, Hans.

FIRK

Master.

HODGE

How now, boy?

FIRK

Pray, now you are in the cutting vein, cut me out a pair of

15

counterfeits, or else my work will not pass current. [Sings] Hey

down a-down.

HODGE

Tell me, sirs, are my cousin Mistress Priscilla’s shoes done?

FIRK

Your cousin? No, master, one of your aunts. Hang her, let her

alone.

20

RALPH

I am in hand with them. She gave charge that none but I should

do them for her.

FIRK

Thou do for her? Then ‘twill be a lame doing; and that she loves

not. Ralph, thou mightest have sent her to me: in faith, I would

have yerked and firked your Priscilla. [Sings] Hey down a-down

25

derry. - This gear will not hold.

HODGE

How sayst thou, Firk? Were we not merry at Old Ford?

FIRK

How, merry? Why, our buttocks went jiggy-joggy like a

quagmire. Well, Sir Roger Oatmeal, if I thought all meal of that

nature, I would eat nothing but bag-puddings.

30

RALPH

Of all good fortunes, my fellow Hans had the best.

FIRK

’Tis true, because Mistress Rose drank to him.

HODGE

Well, well, work apace. They say seven of the aldermen be dead,

or very sick.

FIRK

I care not, I’ll be none.

35

RALPH

No, nor I; but then my Master Eyre will come quickly to be

Lord Mayor.

FIRK

Whoop! Yonder comes Sybil.

HODGE

Sybil! Welcome, I’faith; and how dost thou, mad wench?

FIRK

Sib-whore, welcome to London.

40

SYBIL

Godamercy, sweet Firk. Good Lord, Hodge, what a delicious

shop you have got! You tickle it, I’faith.

RALPH

Godamercy, Sybil, for our good cheer at Old Ford.

SYBIL

That shall you have, Ralph.

FIRK

Nay, by the mass, we had tickling cheer, Sybil. And how the

45

plague dost thou and Mistress Rose, and my Lord Mayor? - I

put the women in first.

SYBIL

Well, godamercy. But God’s me, I forget myself. Where’s Hans

the Fleming?

FIRK

Hark, butter-box, now you must yelp out some spreken.

50

LACY

Vat begaie yow, vat vod yow, frister?

SYBIL

Marry, you must come to my young mistress, to pull on her

shoes you made last.

LACY

Vare ben your edle fro? Vare ben your mistress?

SYBIL

Marry, here at our London house in Cornwall.

55

FIRK

Will nobody serve her turn but Hans?

SYBIL

No, sir. Come, Hans, I stand upon needles.

HODGE

Why then, Sybil, take heed of pricking.

SYBIL

For that, let me alone; I have a trick in my budget. Come, Hans.

LACY

Yaw, yaw; ick sal meete yow gane.

60