Scene II London: A Street Before Hodge’s Shop
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 loitered yesterday; to it pell-mell, that we may live to be lord mayors, or aldermen at least.
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 squeaks this morning for want of liquoring. Hey, down a down, derry!
Hans. Forward, Firk, tow best un jolly yongster. Hort, I, mester, ic bid yo, cut me un pair vampres vor Mester Jeffre’s boots.81
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,82 or else my work will not pass current; hey, down a down!
Hodge. Tell me, sirs, are my cousin Mrs. Priscilla’s shoes done?
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 ’twill be a lame doing, and that she loves not. Ralph, thou might’st have sent her to me, in faith, I would have yearked 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?
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.
Ralph. Of all good fortunes my fellow Hans had the best.
Firk. ’Tis 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.
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?
Firk. Syb-whore, welcome to London.
Sybil. Godamercy, sweet Firk; good lord, Hodge, what a delicious shop you have got! You tickle it, i’faith.
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 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.
Hans. Wat begaie you? Vat vod you, Frister?83
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?84
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.
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, ic sall meete yo gane.85 [Exit Hans and Sybil.
Hodge. Go, Hans, make haste again. Come, who lacks work?
Firk. I, master, for I lack my breakfast; ’tis munching-time, and past.
Hodge. Is’t so? why, then leave work, Ralph. To breakfast! Boy, look to the tools. Come, Ralph; come, Firk. [Exeunt.