The Shoemaker’s Holiday – Act 4, Scene 1

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 Enter HODGE at his shop-board, RALPH, FIRK, LACY, and a
Boy at work.

 ALL
Hey down a down, down derry.

HODGE
Well said, my hearts!  Ply your work today; 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 sayest thou, Hans, doth not Firk tickle it?

LACY
Yaw, mester.

FIRK
Not so, neither.  My organ pipe squeaks this morning, for want of liquoring.  Hey down a down derry!

LACY
Forware, Firk, tow best un jolly yongster.  Hort I, mester, ic bid yo, cut me un pair vampres vor Mester Jeffrey’s bootes.

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, or else my work will not pass current.  Hey down a down!

HODGE
Tell me, sirs, are my cousin Mistress 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 yerked and firked your Priscilla.  Hey down a down derry!  This gear will not hold.

HODGE
How sayest 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
Sib-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.

LACY
Vat begaie you, vat vod you, frister?

SYBIL
Marry, you must come to my young mistress, to pull on her shoes you made last.

LACY
Vere be your edle fro, vare ben your mistress?

SYBIL
Marry, here at our London house in Cornwall.

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.

LACY
Yaw, yaw, ic sall meete you gane.

HODGE
Go, Hans; make haste again.  Come, who lacks work?   [Exit LACY and SYBIL.

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; came, Ralph; come, Firk.                                                         [Exeunt.

Proceed to the next scene.

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