Arise, Sir Roland Lacy. Tell me now,

Tell me in earnest, Oatley, canst thou chide

Seeing thy Rose a lady and a bride?

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OATLEY

I am content with what your Grace hath done.

LINCOLN

And I, my liege, since there’s no remedy.

KING

Come on then, all shake hands; I’ll have you friends.

Where there is much love, all discord ends.

What says my mad Lord Mayor to all this love?

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EYRE

O, my liege, this honour you have done to my fine journeyman

here, Roland Lacy, and all these favours which you have shown

to me this day in my poor house, will make Simon Eyre live

longer by one dozen of warm summers more than he should.

KING

Nay, my mad Lord Mayor - that shall be thy name –

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If any grace of mine can length thy life,

One honour more I’ll do thee. That new building

Which at thy cost in Cornhill is erected

Shall take a name from us. We’ll have it called

The Leadenhall, because in digging it

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You found the lead that covereth the same.

EYRE

I thank your Majesty.

MARGERY

God bless your Grace.

KING

Lincoln, a word with you.

EYRE

How now, my mad knaves! Peace, speak softly. Yonder is the

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King.

KING

With the old troop which there we keep in pay

We will incorporate a new supply.

Before one summer more pass o’er my head,

France shall repent England was injured.

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What are all those?

LACY All shoemakers, my liege,

Sometimes my fellows. In their companies

I lived as merry as an emperor.

KING

My mad Lord Mayor, are all these shoemakers?

EYRE

All shoemakers, my liege, all gentlemen of the Gentle Craft, true

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Trojans, courageous cordwainers. They all kneel to the shrine of

holy Saint Hugh.

ALL

God save your Majesty!

KING

Mad Simon, would they anything with us?

EYRE

[To shoemakers] Mum, mad knaves, not a word - I’ll do’t, I

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warrant you. [Kneels. To KING] They are all beggars, my liege,

all for themselves; and I for them all on both my knees do

entreat that for the honour of poor Simon Eyre and the good

of his brethren, these mad knaves, your Grace would vouchsafe

some privilege to my new Leadenhall, that it may be lawful for

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us to buy and sell leather there two days a week.

KING

Mad Sim, I grant your suit. You shall have patent

To hold two market days in Leadenhall.

Mondays and Fridays, those shall be the times.

Will this content you?

ALL Jesus bless your grace!

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EYRE

In the name of these my poor brethren shoemakers, I most

humbly thank your Grace. But before I rise, seeing you are in

the giving vein, and we in the begging, grant Sim Eyre one boon

more.

KING

What is it, my Lord Mayor?

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EYRE

Vouchsafe to taste of a poor banquet that stands sweetly waiting

for your sweet presence.

KING

I shall undo thee, Eyre, only with feasts.

Already have I been too troublesome;

Say, have I not?

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EYRE

O my dear King, Sim Eyre was taken unawares upon a day of

shroving which I promised long ago to the prentices of London.

For, an’t please your Highness, when I was prentice

I bare the water-tankard, and my coat

Sits not a whit the worse upon my back.

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And then upon a morning some mad boys –

It was Shrove Tuesday even as ‘tis now –

gave me my breakfast, and I swore then by the stopple of my

tankard if ever I came to be Lord Mayor of London, I would

feast all the prentices. This day, my liege, I did it, and the slaves

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had an hundred tables five times covered. They are gone home

and vanished.

Yet add more honour to the Gentle Trade:

Taste of Eyre’s banquet, Simon’s happy made.

KING

Eyre, I will taste of thy banquet, and will say

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I have not met more pleasure on a day.

Friends of the Gentle Craft, thanks to you all.

Thanks, my kind Lady Mayoress, for our cheer.

Come, Lords, a while let’s revel it at home.

When all our sports and banquetings are done,

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Wars must right wrongs which Frenchmen have begun.