SCENE II. [2233

_Enter_ HODGE, FIRK, RALPH, _and five or six_ Shoemakers, _all with cudgels or such weapons_.

_Hodge._ Come, Ralph; stand to it, Firk. My masters, as we are the brave bloods of the shoemakers, heirs apparent to Saint Hugh, and perpetual benefactors to all good fellows, thou shalt have no wrong: were Hammon a king (5) of spades, he should not delve in thy close without thy sufferance. But tell me, Ralph, art thou sure ’t is thy wife?

_Ralph._ Am I sure this is Firk? This morning, when I strokt on her shoes,[2234] I lookt upon (10) her, and she upon me, and sighed, askt me if ever I knew one Ralph. Yes, said I. For his sake, said she—tears standing in her eyes—and for thou art somewhat like him, spend this piece of gold. I took it; my lame leg and (15) my travel beyond sea made me unknown. All is one for that: I know she’s mine.

_Firk._ Did she give thee this gold? O glorious glittering gold! She’s thine own, ’t is thy wife, and she loves thee; for I’ll stand to’t, (20) there’s no woman will give gold to any man, but she thinks better of him than she thinks of them she gives silver to. And for Hammon, neither Hammon nor hangman shall wrong thee in London! Is not our old master Eyre, (25) lord mayor? Speak, my hearts.

_All._ Yes, and Hammon shall know it to his cost.

_Enter_ HAMMON, _his man_, JANE, _and Others._

_Hodge._ Peace, my bullies; yonder they come. 29

_Ralph._ Stand to ’t, my hearts. Firk, let me speak first.

_Hodge._ No, Ralph, let me.—Hammon, whither away so early?

_Ham._ Unmannerly, rude slave, what’s that to thee? 34

_Firk._ To him, sir? Yes, sir, and to me, and others. Good-morrow, Jane, how dost thou? Good Lord, how the world is changed with you! God be thanked!

_Ham._ Villains, hands off! How dare you touch my love? 39

_All._ Villains? Down with them! Cry clubs for prentices![2235]

_Hodge._ Hold, my hearts! Touch her, Hammon? Yea, and more than that: we ’ll carry her away with us. My masters and gentlemen, never draw your bird-spits; shoemakers are steel to the back, men every inch of them, (46) all spirit.

_All of Hammon’s side._ Well, and what of all this?

_Hodge._ I ’ll show you.—Jane, dost thou (50) know this man? ’T is Ralph, I can tell thee; nay, ’t is he in faith, though he be lam’d by the wars. Yet look not strange, but run to him, fold him about the neck and kiss him.

_Jane._ Lives then my husband? Oh God, let me go, 55 Let me embrace my Ralph.

_Ham._ What means my Jane?

_Jane._ Nay, what meant you, to tell me, he was slain?

_Ham._ Pardon me, dear love, for being misled. [_To_ RALPH.] ’T was rumour’d here in London, thou wert dead.

_Firk._ Thou seest he lives. Lass, go, pack home with him. 60 Now, Master Hammon, where ’s your mistress, your wife?

_Serv._ ’Swounds, master, fight for her! Will you thus lose her?

_All._ Down with that creature! Clubs! Down with him! 65

_Hodge._ Hold, hold!

_Ham._ Hold, fool! Sirs, he shall do no wrong. Will my Jane leave me thus, and break her faith?

_Firk._ Yea, sir! She must, sir! She shall, sir! What then? Mend it! 70

_Hodge._ Hark, fellow Ralph, follow my counsel: set the wench in the midst, and let her choose her man, and let her be his woman.

_Jane._ Whom shall I choose? Whom should my thoughts affect But him whom Heaven hath made to be my love? 75 Thou art my husband, and these humble weeds Make thee more beautiful than all his wealth, Therefore, I will but put off his attire, Returning it into the owner’s hand, And after ever be thy constant wife. 80

_Hodge._ Not a rag, Jane! The law ’s on our side: he that sows in another man’s ground, forfeits his harvest. Get thee home, Ralph; follow him, Jane; he shall not have so much as a busk-point[2236] from thee. 85

_Firk._ Stand to that, Ralph; the appurtenances are thine own. Hammon, look not at her!

_Serv._ O, swounds, no! 89

_Firk._ Blue coat, be quiet, we ’ll give you a new livery else; we ’ll make Shrove Tuesday Saint George’s Day for you. Look not, Hammon, leer not! I ’ll firk you! For thy head now, one glance, one sheep’s eye, anything, at her! Touch not a rag, lest I and my brethren beat you to clouts. 96

_Serv._ Come, Master Hammon, there ’s no striving here.

_Ham._ Good fellows, hear me speak; and, honest Ralph, Whom I have injured most by loving Jane, Mark what I offer thee: here in fair gold 100 Is twenty pound, I ’ll give it for thy Jane; If this content thee not, thou shalt have more.

_Hodge._ Sell not thy wife, Ralph; make her not a whore.

_Ham._ Say, wilt thou freely cease thy claim in her, And let her be my wife?

_All._ No, do not, Ralph. 105

_Ralph._ Sirrah Hammon, Hammon, dost thou think a shoemaker is so base to be a bawd to his own wife for commodity? Take thy gold, choke with it! Were I not lame, I would make, thee eat thy words. 110

_Firk._ A shoemaker sell his flesh and blood? Oh indignity!

_Hodge._ Sirrah, take up your pelf, and be packing.

_Ham._ I will not touch one penny, but in lieu Of that great wrong I offered thy Jane, 116 To Jane and thee I give that twenty pound. Since I have fail’d of her, during my life, I vow, no woman else shall be my wife. Farewell, good fellows of the gentle trade: 120 Your morning mirth my mourning day hath made. _Exit._

_Firk._ [_to the_ Serving-man.] Touch the gold creature, if you dare! Y’ are best be trudging. Here, Jane, take thou it. Now let ’s home, my hearts. 125

_Hodge._ Stay! Who comes here? Jane, on again with thy mask!

_Enter the_ EARL OF LINCOLN, _the_ LORD MAYOR, _and_ Servants.

_Lincoln._ Yonder ’s the lying varlet mockt us so.

_L. Mayor._ Come hither, sirrah!

_Firk._ I, sir? I am sirrah? You mean me, do you not? 130

_Lincoln._ Where is my nephew married?

_Firk._ Is he married? God give him joy, I am glad of it. They have a fair day, and the sign is in a good planet, Mars in Venus.

_L. Mayor._ Villain, thou toldst me that my daughter Rose 135 This morning should be married at Saint Faith’s; We have watch’d there these three hours at the least, Yet see we no such thing.

_Firk._ Truly, I am sorry for ’t; a bride’s a pretty thing. 140

_Hodge._ Come to the purpose. Yonder ’s the bride and bridegroom you look for, I hope. Though you be lords, you are not to bar by your authority men from women, are you?

_L. Mayor._ See, see, my daughter ’s maskt.

_Lincoln._ True, and my nephew, 145 To hide his guilt, counterfeits him lame.

_Firk._ Yea, truly; God help the poor couple, they are lame and blind.

_L. Mayor._ I ’ll ease her blindness.

_Lincoln._ I ’ll his lameness cure. 149

_Firk._ Lie down, sirs, and laugh! My fellow Ralph is taken for Rowland Lacy, and Jane for Mistress Damask Rose. This is all my knavery.

_L. Mayor._ What, have I found you, minion?

_Lincoln._ O base wretch! Nay, hide thy face, the horror of thy guilt Can hardly be washt off. Where are thy powers? 155 What battles have you made? O yes, I see, Thou fought’st with Shame, and Shame hath conquer’d thee. This lameness will not serve.

_L. Mayor._ Unmask yourself.

_Lincoln._ Lead home your daughter.

_L. Mayor._ Take your nephew hence. 159

_Ralph._ Hence! Swounds, what mean you? Are you mad? I hope you cannot enforce my wife from me. Where ’s Hammon?

_L. Mayor._ Your wife?

_Lincoln._ What, Hammon? 164

_Ralph._ Yea, my wife; and, therefore, the proudest of you that lay hands on her first, I ’ll lay my crutch ’cross his pate.

_Firk._ To him, lame Ralph! Here ’s brave sport! 169

_Ralph._ Rose call you her? Why, her name is Jane. Look here else; do you know her now? [_Unmasking_ JANE.]

_Lincoln._ Is this your daughter?

_L. Mayor._ No, nor this your nephew. My Lord of Lincoln, we are both abus’d By this base, crafty varlet. 174

_Firk._ Yea, forsooth, no varlet; forsooth, no base; forsooth, I am but mean; no crafty neither, but of the gentle craft.

_L. Mayor._ Where is my daughter Rose? Where is my child?

_Lincoln._ Where is my nephew Lacy married?

_Firk._ Why, here is good lac’d mutton,[2237] as I promist you. 181

_Lincoln._ Villain, I ’ll have thee punisht for this wrong.

_Firk._ Punish the journeyman villain, but not the journeyman shoemaker.

_Enter_ DODGER.

_Dodger._ My lord, I come to bring unwelcome news. 185 Your nephew Lacy and your daughter Rose Early this morning wedded at the Savoy, None being present but the lady mayoress. Besides, I learnt among the officers, 189 The lord mayor vows to stand in their defence ’Gainst any that shall seek to cross the match.

_Lincoln._ Dares Eyre the shoemaker uphold the deed?

_Firk._ Yes, sir, shoemakers dare stand in a woman’s quarrel, I warrant you, as deep as another, and deeper too. 195

_Dodger._ Besides, his grace to-day dines with the mayor; Who on his knees humbly intends to fall And beg a pardon for your nephew’s fault.

_Lincoln._ But I ’ll prevent him! Come, Sir Roger Oateley; The king will do us justice in this cause. 200 Howev’er their hands have made them man and wife, I will disjoin the match, or lose my life. _Exeunt._

_Firk._ Adieu, Monsieur Dodger! Farewell, fools! Ha, ha! Oh, if they had stay’d, I (204) would have so lamb’d[2238] them with flouts! O heart, my codpiece-point is ready to fly in pieces every time I think upon Mistress Rose. But let that pass, as my lady mayoress says.

_Hodge._ This matter is answer’d. Come, Ralph; home with thy wife. Come, my fine (210) shoemakers, let ’s to our master’s the new lord mayor, and there swagger this Shrove Tuesday. I ’ll promise you wine enough, for Madge keeps the cellar.

_All._ O rare! Madge is a good wench. 215

_Firk._ And I ’ll promise you meat enough, for simp’ring Susan keeps the larder. I ’ll lead you to victuals, my brave soldiers; follow your captain. O brave! Hark, hark! _Bell rings._ 219

_All._ The pancake-bell[2239] rings, the pancake-bell! Trilill, my hearts!

_Firk._ Oh brave! Oh sweet bell! O delicate pancakes! Open the doors, my hearts, and shut up the windows! keep in the house, let out 224 the pancakes! Oh rare, my hearts! Let ’s march together for the honour of Saint Hugh to the great new hall[2240] in Gracious Street corner, which our master, the new lord mayor, hath built.

_Ralph._ O the crew of good fellows that will dine at my lord mayor’s cost to-day! 230

_Hodge._ By the Lord, my lord mayor is a most brave man. How shall prentices be bound to pray for him and the honour of the gentlemen shoemakers! Let ’s feed and be fat with my lord’s bounty. 235

_Firk._ O musical bell, still! O Hodge, O my brethren! There ’s cheer for the heavens: venison-pasties walk up and down piping hot, like sergeants; beef and brewess[2241] comes marching 239 in dry-vats,[2242] fritters and pancakes comes trowling in in wheel-barrows; hens and oranges hopping in porters’-basket, collops and eggs in scuttles,[2243] and tarts and custards comes quavering in in malt-shovels.

_Enter more_ Prentices.

_All._ Whoop, look here, look here! 245

_Hodge._ How now, mad lads, whither away so fast?

_1 Prentice._ Whither? Why, to the great new hall, know you not why? The lord (249) mayor hath bidden all the prentices in London to breakfast this morning.

_All._ Oh brave shoemakers, oh brave lord of incomprehensible good-fellowship! Whoo! Hark you! The pancake-bell rings. 254 _Cast up caps._

_Firk._ Nay, more, my hearts! Every Shrove-Tuesday is our year of jubilee; and when the pancake-bell rings, we are as free as my lord mayor; we may shut up our shops, and make holiday; I’ll have it call’d Saint Hugh’s Holiday. 260

_All._ Agreed, agreed! Saint Hugh’s Holiday.

_Hodge._ And this shall continue for ever.

_All._ Oh brave! Come, come, my hearts! Away, away!

_Firk._ O eternal credit to us of the gentle craft! March fair, my hearts! Oh rare! 265 _Exeunt._