Scene III At Bradford
A Shoemaker discovered at work: enter Jenkin, carrying a staff.313
Jen. My masters, he that hath neither meat nor money, and hath lost his credit with the alewife, for anything I know, may go supperless to bed.—But, soft! who is here? here is a shoemaker; he knows where is the best ale.—Shoemaker, I pray thee tell me, where is the best ale in the town?
Shoe. Afore, afore, follow thy nose; at the sign of the Egg-shell.
Jen. Come, shoemaker, if thou wilt, and take thy part of a pot.
Shoe. [coming forward]. Sirrah, down with your staff, down with your staff.
Jen. Why, how now! is the fellow mad? I pray thee tell me, why should I hold down my staff?
Shoe. You will down with him, will you not, sir?
Jen. Why, tell me wherefore?
Shoe. My friend, this is the town of merry Bradford, and here is a custom held, that none shall pass with his staff on his shoulders but he must have a bout with me; and so shall you, sir.
Jen. And so will I not, sir.
Shoe. That will I try. Barking dogs bite not the sorest.
Jen. [aside]. I would to God I were once well rid of him.
Shoe. Now, what, will you down with your staff?
Jen. Why, you are not in earnest? are you?
Shoe. If I am not, take that. [Strikes him.
Jen. You whoreson, cowardly scab, it is but the part of a clapperdudgeon314 to strike a man in the street. But darest thou walk to the town’s end with me?
Shoe. Ay, that I dare do; but stay till I lay in my tools, and I will go with thee to the town’s end presently.
Jen. [aside]. I would I knew how to be rid of this fellow.
Shoe. Come, sir, will you go to the town’s end now, sir?
Jen. Ay, sir, come.—
[Scene changes to the town’s end].
Now we are at the town’s end, what say you now?
Shoe. Marry, come, let us even have a bout.
Jen. Ha, stay a little; hold thy hands, I pray thee.
Shoe. Why, what’s the matter?
Jen. Faith, I am Under-pinner of a town, and there is an order, which if I do not keep, I shall be turned out of mine office.
Shoe. What is that, sir?
Jen. Whensoever I go to fight with anybody, I use to flourish my staff thrice about my head before I strike, and then show no favour.
Shoe. Well, sir, and till then I will not strike thee.
Jen. Well, sir, here is once, twice:—here is my hand, I will never do it the third time.
Shoe. Why, then, I see we shall not fight.
Jen. Faith, no: come, I will give thee two pots of the best ale, and be friends.
Shoe. [aside]. Faith, I see it is as hard to get water out of a flint as to get him to have a bout with me: therefore I will enter into him for some good cheer.—My friend, I see thou art a faint-hearted fellow, thou hast no stomach to fight, therefore let us go to the ale-house and drink.
Jen. Well, content: go thy ways, and say thy prayers, thou ‘scapest my hands to-day. [Exeunt.