Chapter LXI: Act II: Scene I.2113

_Enter_ ROSE, _alone, making a garland_.

_Rose._ Here sit thou down upon this flow’ry bank
And make a garland for thy Lacy’s head.
These pinks, these roses, and these violets,
These blushing gilliflowers, these marigolds,
The fair embroidery of his coronet, 5
Carry not half such beauty in their cheeks,
As the sweet count’nance of my Lacy doth.
O my most unkind father! O my stars,
Why lower’d you so at my nativity,
To make me love, yet live robb’d of my love?
Here as a thief am I imprisoned 11
For my dear Lacy’s sake within those walls,
Which by my father’s cost were builded up
For better purposes. Here must I languish
For him that doth as much lament, I know, 15
Mine absence, as for him I pine in woe.

_Enter_ SYBIL.

_Sybil._ Good morrow, young mistress. I am sure you make that garland
for me, against[2114] I shall be Lady of the Harvest.

_Rose._ Sybil, what news at London? 20

_Sybil._ None but good; my lord mayor, your father, and master
Philpot, your uncle, and Master Scot, your cousin, and Mistress
Frigbottom by Doctors’ Commons, do all, by my troth, send you most
hearty commendations. 25

_Rose._ Did Lacy send kind greetings to his love?

_Sybil._ O yes, out of cry, by my troth. I scant knew him; here
’a wore a scarf; and here a scarf, here a bunch of feathers, and
here precious stones and jewels, and a pair (30) of garters,—O,
monstrous! like one of our yellow silk curtains at home here in Old
Ford House here, in Master Belly-mount’s chamber. I stood at our door
in Cornhill, look’d at him, he at me indeed, spake to him, but he not
(35) to me, not a word; marry go-up, thought I, with a wanion![2115]
He pass’d by me as proud —Marry foh! are you grown humorous,[2116]
thought I; and so shut the door, and in I came.

_Rose._ O Sybil, how dost thou my Lacy wrong! 40
My Rowland is as gentle as a lamb,
No dove was ever half so mild as he.

_Sybil._ Mild? yea, as a bushel of stamp crabs.[2117] He lookt upon
me as sour as verjuice.[2118] Go thy ways, thought I, thou may’st be
much (45) in my gaskins,[2119] but nothing in my nether-stocks.[2120]
This is your fault, mistress, to love him that loves not you; he
thinks scorn to do as he ’s done to; but if I were as you, I ’d cry,
“Go by, Jeronimo, go by!”[2121] 50
I ’d set mine old debts against my new driblets,
And the hare’s foot against the goose giblets,
For if ever I sigh, when sleep I should take,
Pray God I may lose my maidenhead when I wake.

_Rose._ Will my love leave me then, and go to France? 55

_Sybil._ I know not that, but I am sure I see him stalk before the
soldiers. By my troth, he is a proper[2122] man; but he is proper
that proper doth. Let him go snick-up,[2123] young mistress. 60

_Rose._ Get thee to London, and learn perfectly
Whether my Lacy go to France, or no.
Do this, and I will give thee for thy pains
My cambric apron and my Romish gloves,
My purple stockings and a stomacher. 65
Say, wilt thou do this, Sybil, for my sake?

_Sybil._ Will I, quoth ’a? At whose suit? By my troth, yes, I ’ll go.
A cambric apron, gloves, a pair of purple stockings, and a stomacher!
I ’ll sweat in purple, mistress, for you; (70) I ’ll take anything
that comes a’ God’s name. O rich! a cambric apron! Faith, then have
at ‘up tails all.’ I ’ll go jiggy-joggy to London, and be here in a
trice, young mistress. _Exit._

_Rose._ Do so, good Sybil. Meantime wretched I
Will sit and sigh for his lost company. _Exit._ 75

SCENE II.[2124]

_Enter_ LACY, _like a Dutch Shoemaker_.

_Lacy._ How many shapes have gods and kings devis’d,
Thereby to compass their desired loves!
It is no shame for Rowland Lacy, then,
To clothe his cunning with the gentle craft,
That, thus disguis’d, I may unknown possess 5
The only happy presence of my Rose.
For her have I forsook my charge in France,
Incurr’d the king’s displeasure, and stirr’d up
Rough hatred in mine uncle Lincoln’s breast.
O love, how powerful art thou, that canst change
High birth to baseness, and a noble mind 11
To the mean semblance of a shoemaker!
But thus it must be; for her cruel father,
Hating the single union of our souls, 14
Has secretly convey’d my Rose from London,
To bar me of her presence; but I trust,
Fortune and this disguise will further me
Once more to view her beauty, gain her sight.
Here in Tower Street with Eyre the shoemaker
Mean I a while to work; I know the trade, 20
I learnt it when I was in Wittenberg.
Then cheer thy hoping spirits, be not dismay’d,
Thou canst not want: do Fortune what she can,
The gentle craft is living for a man. _Exit._

SCENE III.[2125]

_Enter_ EYRE, _making himself ready_.[2126]

_Eyre._ Where be these boys, these girls, these drabs, these
scoundrels? They wallow in the fat brewiss[2127] 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[2128] queans! What, Nan! what,
Madge Mumble-crust. (6) Come out, you fat midriff-swag-belly-whores,
and sweep me these kennels[2129] that the noisome stench offend not
the noses of my neighbours. What, Firk, I say; what, Hodge! Open my
(10) shop windows! What, Firk, I say!

_Enter_ FIRK.

_Firk._ O master, is ’t you that speak bandog[2130] and Bedlam[2131]
this morning? I was in a dream, and mused what madman was got into
the street so early. Have you drunk this morning that (15) your
throat is so clear?

_Eyre._ Ah, well said, Firk; well said, Firk. To work, my fine knave,
to work! Wash thy face, and thou ’t be more blest.

_Firk._ Let them wash my face that will eat (20) it. Good master,
send for a souse-wife,[2132] if you’ll have my face cleaner.

_Enter_ HODGE.

_Eyre._ Away, sloven! avaunt, scoundrel!—Good-morrow, Hodge;
good-morrow, my fine foreman. 25

_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.[2133]

_Eyre._ Oh, haste to work, my fine foreman, (30) 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 plough-boys
and those that work in the fields pray (35) for brave days. We work
in a dry shop; what care I if it rain?

_Enter_ EYRE’S _wife_ [MARGERY].

_Eyre._ How now, Dame Margery, can you see to rise? Trip and go, call
up the drabs, your maids. 40

_Marg._ See to rise? I hope ’t is time enough, ’t is early enough for
any woman to be seen abroad. I marvel how many wives in Tower Street
are up so soon. Gods me, ’t is not noon,—here ’s a yawling![2134] 45

_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. 50

_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. 56
Tap eens de canneken,
Drincke, schone mannekin._[2135]

_Firk._ Master, for my life, yonder’s a brother (59) of the gentle
craft; if he bear not Saint Hugh’s bones,[2136] I ’ll forfeit my
bones; he ’s some uplandish workman: hire him, good master, that I
may learn some gibble-gabble; ’t will make us work the faster. 64

_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
(70) every butter-box;[2137] but let that pass.

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

_Firk._ Ay, that he shall. 75

_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. 80

_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 all in the walls, and
go play. Fare ye well, master; good-bye, dame. 86

_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 gallimaufry![2138] Hodge, if he (90) want work, I ’ll hire
him. One of you to him; stay,—he comes to us.

Lacy. _Goeden dach, meester, ende u vro oak._[2139]

_Firk._ Nails,[2140] if I should speak after him without drinking, I
should choke. And you, (95) friend Oake, are you of the gentle craft?

Lacy. _Yaw, yaw, ik bin den skomawker._[2141]

_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 (100) 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? 104

Lacy. _Yaw, yaw; be niet vorveard. Ik hab all de dingen voour mack
skooes groot and cleane._[2142]

_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 (110) the mystery[2143]
of cordwainers?

Lacy. _Ik weet niet wat yow seg; ich verstaw you niet._[2144]

_Firk._ Why, thus, man: [_Imitating by gesture_ (114) _a shoemaker at
work._] _Ich verste u niet_, quoth ’a.

Lacy. _Yaw, yaw, yaw; ick can dat wel doen._[2145]

_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 (120)
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. 125

_Eyre._ Give me thy hand; th’ art welcome.— Hodge, entertain him;
Firk, bid him welcome; come, Hans. Run, wife, bid your maids, your
trullibubs,[2146] make ready my fine men’s breakfasts. To him, Hodge!
130

_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. (135) 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._[2147] [_Exit_
Boy.] 141

_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; (146) 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 (151) beer came hopping in well.

_Marg._ Simon, it is almost seven.

_Eyre._ Is ’t so. Dame Clapper-dudgeon?[2148] Is ’t seven a
clock, and my men’s breakfast not ready? Trip and go, you sous’d
conger,[2149] (156) 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._

_Firk._ Soft! _Yaw, yaw_, good Hans, though (161) 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._

SCENE IV.[2150]

[_Halloaing within._] _Enter_ WARNER _and_ HAMMON, _like Hunters_.

_Ham._ Cousin, beat every brake, the game ’s not far,
This way with winged feet he fled from death,
Whilst the pursuing hounds, scenting his steps,
Find out his highway to destruction.
Besides, the miller’s boy told me even now, 5
He saw him take soil,[2151] and he halloaed him,
Affirming him to have been so embost[2152]
That long he could not hold.

_Warn._ If it be so,
’T is best we trace these meadows by Old Ford.

[_A noise of_ Hunters _within. Enter a_ Boy.]

_Ham._ How now, boy? Where’s the deer? speak, saw’st thou him? 11

_Boy._ O yea; I saw him leap through a hedge, and then over a ditch,
then at my lord mayor’s pale, over he skipt me, and in he went me,
and “holla” the hunters cried, and “there, (15) boy; there, boy!” But
there he is, a’ mine honesty.

_Ham._ Boy. Godamercy. Cousin, let ’s away; I hope we shall find
better sport to-day. 19
_Exeunt._

SCENE V.[2153]

[_Hunting within._] _Enter_ ROSE _and_ SYBIL.

_Rose._ Why, Sybil, wilt thou prove a forester?

_Sybil._ Upon some, no. Forester? Go by; no, faith, mistress. The
deer came running into the barn through the orchard and over the
pale; I wot well, I lookt as pale as a new cheese to see him. But
whip, says Goodman Pinclose, (6) up with his flail, and our Nick with
a prong, and down he fell, and they upon him, and I upon them. By my
troth, we had such sport; and in the end we ended him; his throat we
cut, flay’d him, unhorn’d him, and my (11) lord mayor shall eat of
him anon, when he comes. _Horns sound within._

_Rose._ Hark, hark, the hunters come; y’ are best take heed,
They ’ll have a saying to you for this deed. 15

_Enter_ HAMMON, WARNER, Huntsmen, _and_ Boy.

_Ham._ God save you, fair ladies.

_Sybil._ Ladies! O gross![2154]

_Warn._ Came not a buck this way?

_Rose._ No, but two does.

_Ham._ And which way went they? Faith, we ’ll hunt at those.

_Sybil._ At those? Upon some, no. When, can you tell?

_Warn._ Upon some, ay.

_Sybil._ Good Lord!

_Warn._ Wounds![2155] Then farewell! 20

_Ham._ Boy, which way went he?

_Boy._ This way, sir, he ran.

_Ham._ This way he ran indeed, fair Mistress Rose;
Our game was lately in your orchard seen.

_Warn._ Can you advise, which way he took his flight?

_Sybil._ Follow your nose; his horns will guide you right. 25

_Warn._ Th’ art a mad wench.

_Sybil._ O, rich!

_Rose._ Trust me, not I.
It is not like that the wild forest-deer
Would come so near to places of resort;
You are deceiv’d, he fled some other way.

_Warn._ Which way, my sugar-candy, can you shew? 30

_Sybil._ Come up, good honeysops, upon some, no.

_Rose._ Why do you stay, and not pursue your game?

_Sybil._ I ’ll hold my life, their hunting-nags be lame.

_Ham._ A deer more dear is found within this place.

_Rose._ But not the deer, sir, which you had in chase. 35

_Ham._ I chas’d the deer, but this dear chaseth me.

_Rose._ The strangest hunting that ever I see. But where ’s your
park? _She offers to go away._

_Ham._ ’T is here: O stay!

_Rose._ Impale me, and then I will not stray.

_Warn._ They wrangle, wench; we are more kind than they. 40

_Sybil._ What kind of hart is that dear heart you seek?

_Warn._ A hart, dear heart.

_Sybil._ Who ever saw the like?

_Rose._ To lose your heart, is ’t possible you can?

_Ham._ My heart is lost.

_Rose._ Alack, good gentleman!

_Ham._ This poor lost heart would I wish you might find. 45

_Rose._ You, by such luck, might prove your hart a hind.

_Ham._ Why Luck had horns, so have I heard some say.

_Rose._ Now, God, an ’t be his will, send Luck into your way.

_Enter the_ LORD MAYOR _and_ Servants.

_L. Mayor._ What. Master Hammon? Welcome to Old Ford!

_Sybil._ Gods pittikins,[2156] hands off, sir! Here ’s my lord. 50

_L. Mayor._ I hear you had ill luck, and lost your game.

_Ham._ ’T is true, my lord.

_L. Mayor._ I am sorry for the same.
What gentleman is this?

_Ham._ My brother-in-law.

_L. Mayor._ Y’ are welcome both; sith Fortune offers you
Into my hands, you shall not part from hence,
Until you have refresht your wearied limbs. 56
Go, Sybil, cover the board! You shall be guest
To no good cheer, but even a hunter’s feast.

_Ham._ I thank your lordship.—Cousin, on my life,
For our lost venison I shall find a wife. 60
_Exeunt_ [_all but_ MAYOR].

_L. Mayor._ In, gentlemen; I ’ll not be absent long.—
This Hammon is a proper gentleman,
A citizen by birth, fairly allied;
How fit an husband were he for my girl!
Well, I will in, and do the best I can, 65
To match my daughter to this gentleman. _Exit._