SCENE II.[2206

HODGE, _at his shop-board_, RALPH, FIRK, HANS, _and a_ Boy _at work_.

_All._ Hey, down a down, down derry.

_Hodge._ Well said, my hearts; ply your work to-day, we loit’red yesterday; to it pell-mell, that we may live to be lord mayors, or aldermen at least. 5

_Firk._ Hey, down a down, derry.

_Hodge._ Well said, i’ faith! How say’st thou, Hans, doth not Firk tickle it?

Hans. _Yaw, mester._

_Firk._ Not so neither, my organ-pipe (10) squeaks this morning for want of liquoring. Hey, down a down, derry!

Hans. _Forward, Firk, tow best un jolly youngster. Hort, I, mester, ic bid yo, cut me un pair vampres vor Mester Jeffre’s boots._[2207] 15

_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 counterfeits,[2208] or else (20) my work will not pass current; hey, down a down!

_Hodge._ Tell me, sirs, are my cousin Mrs. Priscilla’s shoes done? 24

_Firk._ Your cousin? No, master; one of your aunts, hang her; let them alone.

_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 ’t will be a (29) lame doing, and that she loves not. Ralph, thou might’st have sent her to me, in faith, I would have yarked and firked your Priscilla. Hey, down a down, derry. This gear will not hold.

_Hodge._ How say’st thou, Firk, were we not merry at Old Ford? 35

_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 bagpuddings. 39

_Ralph._ Of all good fortunes my fellow Hans had the best.

_Firk._ ’T is 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. 45

_Ralph._ No, nor I; but then my Master Eyre will come quickly to be lord mayor.

_Enter_ SYBIL.

_Firk._ Whoop, yonder comes Sybil.

_Hodge._ Sybil, welcome, i’ faith; and how dost thou, mad wench? 50

_Firk._ Sib-whore, welcome to London.

_Sybil._ Godamercy, sweet Firk; good lord, Hodge, what a delicious shop you have got! You tickle it, i’ faith. 54

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

_Sybil._ That you shall have, Ralph.

_Firk._ Nay, by the mass, we had tickling cheer, Sybil; and how the plague dost thou (59) 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_. 64

Hans. _Hat begaie you? Vat vod you, Frister?_[2209]

_Sybil._ Marry, you must come to my young mistress, to pull on her shoes you made last.

Hans. _Vare ben your egle fro, vare ben your mistris?_[2210] 70

_Sybil._ Marry, here at our London house in Cornhill.

_Firk._ Will nobody serve her turn but Hans?

_Sybil._ No, sir. Come, Hans, I stand upon needles. 75

_Hodge._ Why then, Sybil, take heed of pricking.

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

Hans. _Yaw, yaw, iz sall meete yo gane._[2211] 80 _Exit_ HANS _and_ SYBIL.

_Hodge._ Go, Hans, make haste again. Come, who lacks work?

_Firk._ I, master, for I lack my breakfast; ’t is munching-time, and past. 84

_Hodge._ Is ’t so? Why, then leave work, Ralph. To breakfast! Boy, look to the tools. Come, Ralph; come, Firk. _Exeunt._