SCENE III.--_An open Yard before_ EYRE’S _House_.

_Enter_ EYRE, _making himself ready_.[23]

[23] _i.e._ Dressing himself.

_Eyre._ Where be these boys, these girls, these drabs, these scoundrels? They wallow in the fat brewiss[24] of my bounty, and lick up the crumbs of my table, yet will not rise to see my walks cleansed. Come out, you powder-beef[25] queans! What, Nan! what, Madge Mumble-crust. Come out, you fat midriff-swag-belly-whores, and sweep me these kennels that the noisome stench offend not the noses of my neighbours. What, Firk, I say; what, Hodge! Open my shop-windows! What, Firk, I say!

[24] Bread soaked in pot liquor, and prepared _secundum artem_.--_Nares._

[25] Salted beef.

_Enter_ FIRK.

_Firk._ O master, is’t you that speak bandog[26] and Bedlam this morning? I was in a dream, and mused what madman was got into the street so early; have you drunk this morning that your throat is so clear?

[26] A dog kept fastened up as a watch-dog, and therefore given to loud barking.

_Eyre._ Ah, well said, Firk; well said, Firk. To work, my fine knave, to work! Wash thy face, and thou’lt be more blest.

_Firk._ Let them wash my face that will eat it. Good master, send for a souse-wife,[27] if you’ll have my face cleaner.

[27] A woman who washed and pickled pigs’ faces.

_Enter_ HODGE.

_Eyre._ Away, sloven! avaunt, scoundrel!--Good-morrow, Hodge; good-morrow, my fine foreman.

_Hodge._ O master, good-morrow; y’are an early stirrer. Here’s a fair morning.--Good-morrow, Firk, I could have slept this hour. Here’s a brave day towards.

_Eyre._ Oh, haste to work, my fine foreman, haste to work.

_Firk._ Master, I am dry as dust to hear my fellow Roger talk of fair weather; let us pray for good leather, and let clowns and ploughboys and those that work in the fields pray for brave days. We work in a dry shop; what care I if it rain?

_Enter_ MARGERY.

_Eyre._ How now, Dame Margery, can you see to rise? Trip and go, call up the drabs, your maids.

_Marg._ See to rise? I hope ’tis time enough, ’tis early enough for any woman to be seen abroad. I marvel how many wives in Tower Street are up so soon. Gods me, ’tis not noon,--here’s a yawling![28]

[28] Bawling.

_Eyre._ Peace, Margery, peace! Where’s Cicely Bumtrinket, your maid? She has a privy fault, she farts in her sleep. Call the quean up; if my men want shoe-thread, I’ll swinge her in a stirrup.

_Firk._ Yet, that’s but a dry beating; here’s still a sign of drought.

_Enter_ LACY _disguised, singing_.

_Lacy._ _Der was een bore van Gelderland Frolick sie byen; He was als dronck he cold nyet stand, Upsolce sie byen. Tap eens de canneken, Drincke, schone mannekin._[29]

[29]

There was a boor from Gelderland, Jolly they be; He was so drunk he could not stand, Drunken they be: Clink then the cannikin, Drink, pretty mannikin!

_Firk._ Master, for my life, yonder’s a brother of the gentle craft; if he bear not Saint Hugh’s bones,[30] I’ll forfeit my bones; he’s some uplandish workman: hire him, good master, that I may learn some gibble-gabble; ’twill make us work the faster.

[30] St. Hugh was the patron saint of shoemakers, and his bones were supposed to have been made into shoemaker’s tools, for which this came to be a common term.

_Eyre._ Peace, Firk! A hard world! Let him pass, let him vanish; we have journeymen enow. Peace, my fine Firk!

_Marg._ Nay, nay, y’are best follow your man’s counsel; you shall see what will come on’t: we have not men enow, but we must entertain every butter-box; but let that pass.

_Hodge._ Dame, ’fore God, if my master follow your counsel, he’ll consume little beef. He shall be glad of men, and he can catch them.

_Firk._ Ay, that he shall.

_Hodge._ ’Fore God, a proper man, and I warrant, a fine workman. Master, farewell; dame, adieu; if such a man as he cannot find work, Hodge is not for you. [_Offers to go._

_Eyre._ Stay, my fine Hodge.

_Firk._ Faith, an your foreman go, dame, you must take a journey to seek a new journeyman; if Roger remove, Firk follows. If Saint Hugh’s bones shall not be set a-work, I may prick mine awl in the walls, and go play. Fare ye well, master; good-bye, dame.

_Eyre._ Tarry, my fine Hodge, my brisk foreman! Stay, Firk! Peace, pudding-broth! By the Lord of Ludgate, I love my men as my life. Peace, you gallimafry[31] Hodge, if he want work, I’ll hire him. One of you to him; stay,--he comes to us.

[31] A dish of different hashed meats.

_Lacy._ _Goeden dach, meester, ende u vro oak._[32]

[32] Good day, master, and your wife too.

_Firk._ Nails, if I should speak after him without drinking, I should choke. And you, friend Oake, are you of the gentle craft?

_Lacy._ _Yaw, yaw, ik bin den skomawker._[33]

[33] Yes, yes, I am a shoemaker.

_Firk._ _Den skomaker_, quoth a! And hark you, _skomaker_, have you all your tools, a good rubbing-pin, a good stopper, a good dresser, your four sorts of awls, and your two balls of wax, your paring knife, your hand- and thumb-leathers, and good St. Hugh’s bones to smooth up your work?

_Lacy._ _Yaw, yaw; be niet vorveard. Ik hab all de dingen voour mack skooes groot and cleane._[34]

[34] Yes, yes; be not afraid. I have everything, to make boots big and little.

_Firk._ Ha, ha! Good master, hire him; he’ll make me laugh so that I shall work more in mirth than I can in earnest.

_Eyre._ Hear ye, friend, have ye any skill in the mystery of cordwainers?

_Lacy._ _Ik weet niet wat yow seg; ich verstaw you niet._[35]

[35] I don’t know what you say; I don’t understand you.

_Firk._ Why, thus, man: (_Imitating by gesture a shoemaker at work_) _Ick verste u niet_, quoth a.

_Lacy._ _Yaw, yaw, yaw; ick can dat wel doen._[36]

[36] Yes, yes, yes; I can do that very well.

_Firk._ _Yaw, yaw!_ He speaks yawing like a jackdaw that gapes to be fed with cheese-curds. Oh, he’ll give a villanous pull at a can of double-beer; but Hodge and I have the vantage, we must drink first, because we are the eldest journeymen.

_Eyre._ What is thy name?

_Lacy._ Hans--Hans Meulter.

_Eyre._ Give me thy hand; th’art welcome.--Hodge, entertain him; Firk, bid him welcome; come, Hans. Run, wife, bid your maids, your trullibubs,[37] make ready my fine men’s breakfasts. To him, Hodge!

[37] Slatterns, sluts.

_Hodge._ Hans, th’art welcome; use thyself friendly, for we are good fellows; if not, thou shalt be fought with, wert thou bigger than a giant.

_Firk._ Yea, and drunk with, wert thou Gargantua. My master keeps no cowards, I tell thee.--Ho, boy, bring him an heel-block, here’s a new journeyman.

_Enter_ Boy.

_Lacy._ _O, ich wersto you; ich moet een halve dossen cans betaelen; here, boy, nempt dis skilling, tap eens freelicke._[38] [_Exit_ Boy.

[38] O, I understand you; I must pay for half-a-dozen cans; here, boy, take this shilling, tap this once freely.

_Eyre._ Quick, snipper-snapper, away! Firk, scour thy throat, thou shalt wash it with Castilian liquor.

_Enter_ Boy.

Come, my last of the fives, give me a can. Have to thee, Hans; here, Hodge; here, Firk; drink, you mad Greeks, and work like true Trojans, and pray for Simon Eyre, the shoemaker.--Here, Hans, and th’art welcome.

_Firk._ Lo, dame, you would have lost a good fellow that will teach us to laugh. This beer came hopping in well.

_Marg._ Simon, it is almost seven.

_Eyre._ Is’t so, Dame Clapper-dudgeon?[39] Is’t seven a clock, and my men’s breakfast not ready? Trip and go, you soused conger,[40] away! Come, you mad hyperboreans; follow me, Hodge; follow me, Hans; come after, my fine Firk; to work, to work a while, and then to breakfast! [_Exit._

[39] Cant term for a beggar.

[40] Conger-eel.

_Firk._ Soft! _Yaw, yaw_, good Hans, though my master have no more wit but to call you afore me, I am not so foolish to go behind you, I being the elder journeyman. [_Exeunt._