In the scene below, the journeyman, Firk, is playing a trick on the Lord Mayor and Lincoln. He convinces them that a masked couple is in fact their children getting married. The rouse succeeds in delaying the parents from breaking up the wedding.
Act I Scene XVIII
Lord Mayor: See, see, My daughter’s masked.
Lincoln: True, and my nephew,
To hide his guilt, counterfeits him lame.
Firk: Yea, truly, God help the poor couple; they are
lame and blind.
Lord Mayor: I’ll ease they’re blindness.
Lincoln: I’ll his lameness cure.
Firk {Aside, to the Shoemakers} Lie down, sirs, and
laugh! My fellow, Rafe, is taken for Rowland
Lacy, and Jane for Mistress Damask Rose – this
is all my knavery!
Lord Mayor {To Jane} What, have I found you,
minion!
Lincoln {To Rafe} Oh, base wretch!
Nay, hide thy face; the horror of thy guilt
Can hardly be washed off. Where are thy
powers?
What battles have you made? Oh, yes, I see
Thou fought’st with shame, and shame
Hath conquered thee. This lameness will not
serve.
Lord Mayor: Unmask yourself.
Lincoln {To Lord Mayor} Lead home your
daughter.
Lord Mayor {To Lincoln} Take your
nephew hence.
Rafe: Hence? ‘Swounds, what mean you? Are you
mad? I hope you cannot enforce my wife from
me. Where’s Hammon?
Lord Mayor: Your wife?
Lincoln: What Hammon?
Rafe: Yea, my wife. And therefore the proudest of
you that lays hands on her first, I’ll lay my
crutch cross his pate.
Firk: To him, lame Rafe! Here’s brave sport!
Rafe: Rose, call you her? Why, her name is Jane.
Look here else. {He unmasks her.} Do you know
Her now?
Lincoln: Is this your daughter?
Lord Mayor: No, nor this your nephew.
My Lord of Lincoln, we are both abused
By this base crafty varlet.
Firk: Yea, forsooth, no “varlet,” forsooth, no
“base,” forsooth, I am but mean. No “crafty”
neither, but of the Gentle Craft.
Lord Mayor: Where is my daughter Rose? Where is
my child?
Lincoln: Where is my nephew Lacy married?
Firk: Punish the journeyman villain, but not the
journeyman shoemaker.
Enter Dodger.
Dodger: My lord, I come to bring unwelcome news.
Your nephew Lacy and {To Lord Mayor} your
daughter Rose
Early this morning wedded at the Savoy,
None being present but the Lady Mayoress.
Besides, I learned among the officers
The Lord Mayor vows to stand in their defense
‘Gainst those who seek to cross the match.
Lincoln: Dares Eyre the shoemaker uphold the
deed?
Firk: Yes, sir, shoemakers dare stand in a
woman’s quarrel, I warrant you, as deep as
another, and deeper, too.
Dodger: Besides, His Grace today dines with the
Mayor,
Who on his knees humbly intends to fall
And beg a pardon for your nephew’s fault.
Lincoln: But I’ll prevent him. Come, Sir Roger
Oatley,
The King will do us justice in this cause.
Howe’er their hands have made them man and
wife,
I will disjoin the match, or lose my life.
Exeunt {the Earl of Lincoln, Lord Mayor, and Dodger.}
Firk: Adieu, Monsieur Dodger! Farewell,
Fools! Ha, ha! Oh, if they had stayed I would
Have so lamed them with flouts! Oh, heart,
My codpiece point is ready to fly in pieces
Every time I think upon Mistress Rose. But
Let that pass, as my Lady Mayoress says.
Hodge: This matter is answered. Come, Rafe,
Home with thy wife. Come, my fine shoe-
Makers, let’s to our master’s the new Lord
Mayor, and there swagger this Shrove Tuesday.
I’ll promise you wine enough, for Madge
keeps the cellar.
All: Oh, rare! Madge is a good wench.
Firk: And I’ll promise you meat enough, for sim-
pering Susan keeps the larder. I’ll lead you to
victuals, my brave soldiers. Follow your cap-
tain. Oh, brave! Hark hark!
Bell rings.
All: The pancake bell rings, the pancake bell.
Trilill, my hearts!
Firk. Oh, brave! Oh, sweet bell! Oh, delicate
pancakes! Open the doors, my hearts, and shut
up the windows. Keep in the house, let out
the pancakes. Oh, rare, my hearts! Let’s march
together for the honor of Saint Hugh to the
great new hall in Gracious Street corner,
which our master the new Lord Mayor hath
built.
Rafe: Oh, the crew of good fellows that will dine
at my Lord Mayor’s cost today!
Hodge: By the Lord, my Lord Mayor is a most
brave man. How shall prentices be bound to
pray for him and the honor of the Gentlemen
Shoemakers! Let’s feed and be fat with my
lord’s bounty.
Firk: Oh, musical bell still! Oh, Hodge, Oh, my
brethren! There’s cheer for the heavens – veni-
son pasties walk up and down piping hot
like sergeants; beef and brewis comes march-
ing in dry fats; fritters and pancakes comes
trolling in in wheelbarrows, hens and oranges
hopping in porters’ baskets, collops and eggs
in scuttles, and tarts and custards comes qua-
vering in in malt shovels.
Enter more Prentices.
All: Whoop, look here, look here!
Hodge: How now, mad lads, whither away so fast?
First Prentice: Whither? Why, to the great new hall!
Know you not why? The Lord Mayor hath
bidden all the prentices in London to breakfast
this morning.
All: Oh, brave shoemaker! Oh, brave lord of
incomprehensible good fellowship! Hoo, hark
you, the pancake bell rings!
Cast up caps.
Firk: Nay, more, my hearts, every Shrove Tuesday
is our year of jubilee; and when the pancake
bell rings, we are as free as my Lord Mayor. We
may shut up our shops and make holiday. I’ll
have it called “Saint Hugh’s Holiday.”
All: Agreed, agreed – “Saint Hugh’s Holiday!”
Hodge: And this shall continue forever.
All: Oh, brave! Come, come, my hearts; away,
away.
Firk. Oh, eternal credit to us of the Gentle Craft!
March fair, my hearts. Oh, rare! |