EYRE

This is the morning then - stay, my bully, my honest Hans: is it

not?

LACY

This is the morning that must make us two

Happy or miserable; therefore if you –

EYRE

Away with these ifs and ands, Hans, and these etceteras. By

5

mine honour, Roland Lacy, none but the King shall wrong thee.

Come, fear nothing. Am not I Sim Eyre? Is not Sim Eyre Lord

Mayor of London? Fear nothing, Rose, let them all say what

they can. [Sings] Dainty, come thou to me - Laughest thou?

MARGERY

Good my lord, stand her friend in what thing you may.

10

EYRE

Why, my sweet Lady Madgy, think you Simon Eyre can forget

his fine Dutch journeyman? No, vah! Fie, I scorn it. It shall

never be cast in my teeth that I was unthankful. Lady Madgy,

thou hadst never covered thy Saracen’s head with this French

flap, nor loaden thy bum with this farthingale - ‘tis trash,

15

trumpery, vanity! - Simon Eyre had never walked in a red

petticoat, nor wore a chain of gold, but for my fine

journeyman’s portagues; and shall I leave him? No. Prince am I

none, yet bear a princely mind.

LACY

My lord, ‘tis time for us to part from hence.

20

EYRE

Lady Madgy, Lady Madgy, take two or three of my piecrust

eaters, my buff-jerkin varlets, that do walk in black gowns at

Simon Eyre’s heels. Take them, good Lady Madgy, trip and go,

my brown Queen of Periwigs, with my delicate Rose and my

jolly Roland to the Savoy, see them linked, countenance the

25

marriage, and when it is done, cling, cling together, you

Hamborow turtle-doves. I’ll bear you out. Come to Simon

Eyre, come dwell with me, Hans, thou shalt eat minced pies and

marchpane. Rose, away, cricket. Trip and go, my Lady Madgy, to

the Savoy! Hans, wed and to bed; kiss and away - go, vanish.

30

MARGERY

Farewell, my lord.

ROSE

Make haste, sweet love.

MARGERY She’d fain the deed were done.

LACY

Come, my sweet Rose, faster than deer we’ll run!

EYRE

Go, vanish, vanish: avaunt, I say. By the Lord of Ludgate, it’s a

mad life to be a Lord Mayor. It’s a stirring life, a fine life, a velvet

35

life, a careful life. Well, Simon Eyre, yet set a good face on it, in

the honour of Saint Hugh. Soft, the King this day comes to dine

with me, to see my new buildings. His Majesty is welcome;

he shall have good cheer, delicate cheer, princely cheer. This

day my fellow prentices of London come to dine with me too.

40

They shall have fine cheer, gentlemanlike cheer. I promised the

mad Cappadocians, when we all served at the conduit together,

that if ever I came to be Mayor of London, I would feast them

all; and I’ll do’t, I’ll do’t, by the life of Pharoah, by this beard,

Sim Eyre will be no flincher. Besides, I have procured that upon

45

every Shrove Tuesday, at the sound of the pancake bell, my fine

dapper Assyrian lads shall clap up their shop windows and

away. This is the day, and this day they shall do’t, they shall do’t!

Boys, that day are you free; let masters care,

And prentices shall pray for Simon Eyre. Exit

50