The Shoemaker’s Holiday
The argument of the play I will set down in this epistle: Sir Hugh Lacy, Earl
of Lincoln, had a young gentleman of his own name, his near kinsman, that
loved the Lord Mayor’s daughter of London; to prevent and cross which love
the Earl caused his kinsman to be sent colonel of a company into France, who
resigned his place to another gentleman his friend, and came disguised like
a Dutch shoemaker to the house of Simon Eyre in Tower Street, who served the Mayor and his
household with shoes (Epistle,
6–15)[.]
[...]
[...]
[...]
Stays with the Lord Mayor and the Aldermen,
And doth request you with all speed you may
To hasten hither (1.192–95a).
Eyre. [...] Hold thee, Ralph, here’s five sixpences
for thee. Fight for the honour of the Gentle Craft, for the Gentlemen
Shoemakers, the courageous cordwainers, the flower of Saint Martin’s,
the mad knaves of Bedlam, Fleet Street, Tower Street, and Whitechapel. Crack me the crowns of the French knaves, a pox on
them--crack them. Fight, by the Lord of Ludgate, fight, my fine boy (1.221–27).
Sybil. [...] My Lord Mayor your father, and Master
Philpot your uncle, and Master Scott your cousin, and Mistress Frigbottom,
by Doctors’ Commons, do all, by my
troth, send you most hearty commendations (2.21–25).
Lacy. [...] Here in Tower Street with Eyre the shoemaker
Mean I a while to work. I know the trade;
I learnt it when I was in Wittenberg (3.19–21).
Margery. Seek to rise! I hope ’tis time enough;
’tis early enough for any woman to be seen abroad. I marvel how many wives
in Tower Street are up so soon.
God’s me, ’tis not noon! Here’s a yawling (4.32–35).
Lacy [as Hans]. Mine liever broder Firk, bringt Meester Eyre tot den
signe van swannekin. Daer sal you
find dis skipper end me (7.9–11).
Firk. Yea, but can my fellow Hans lend my
master twenty porpentines as an earnest-penny?
Hodge. ’Portagues’ thou wouldst say--here they
be, Firk: hark, they jingle in my pocket like Saint Mary Overy’s bells (7.23–27).
Eyre. Rip, you chitterling, avaunt! Boy, bid the
tapster of the Boar’s Head fill me a dozen cans of beer for my journeymen
(7.76–78).
Hodge. [...] Do you remember the ship my fellow
Hans told you of? The skipper and he are both drinking at the Swan. Here be
the portagues to give earnest (7.97–100).
To her will I. It is not wealth I seek.
I have enough, and will prefer her love
Before the world (9.51–54a).
[...]
Scott. ’Twas well, my lord, your honour and
myself
Grew partners with him; for your bills of lading
Show that Eyre’s gains in one commodity
Rise at the least to full three thousand pound,
Besides like gain in other merchandise.
Oatley. Well, he shall spend some of his
thousands now,
[...]
[...]
[...]
Margery. I pray thee, run--do you hear--run to
Guildhall, and learn if my
husband, Master Eyre, will take that worshipful vocation of Master
Sheriff upon him. Hie thee, good Firk.
[...]
Margery. [...] And Roger, canst thou tell where
I may buy a good hair?
Servingman. Let me see, now, the Sign of the Last
in Tower Street. Mass, yonder’s the
house. What haw! Who’s within? (14.1–3)
Ralph. [...] Yes, sir, yes, by this shoe. I can
do’t. Four o’clock. Well. Whither shall I bring them?
[...]
[...]
Ralph. [...] Hereof am I sure, I shall live
till I die,
Although I never with a woman lie.
Exit.
[...]
Oatley. But art thou sure of this?
Firk. Am I sure that Paul’s Steeple is a handful higher than London Stone? Or that the Pissing
Conduit leaks nothing but pure Mother
Bunch? (16.110–12)
[...]
Lincoln. Where are they married? Dost thou know
the church?
Firk. I never go to church, but I know the name
of it. It is a swearing church. Stay a while, ’tis ’Ay, by the Mass’
--no, no, ’tis ’Ay, by my troth’ --no, nor that, ’tis ’Ay, by my faith’
--that, that, ’tis ’Ay by my Faith’s’ Church under Paul’s Cross (16.114–20).
[...]
Oatley. [...] The earlier shall we stir, and at
Saint Faith’s
Prevent this giddy, hare-brained nuptial.
This traffic of hot love shall yield cold gains.
They ban our loves, and we’ll forbid their banns.
Lincoln. At Saint Faith’s Church, thou
sayst?
Firk. Yes, by their troth (16.139–46).
[...]
Firk. [...] Soft, now, these two gulls will be
at Saint Faith’s Church tomorrow morning to take Master Bridegroom and
Mistress Bride napping, and they in the meantime shall chop up the
matter at the Savoy. But the
best sport is, Sir Roger Oatley will find my fellow, lame Ralph’s wife,
going to marry a gentleman, and then he’ll stop her instead of his
daughter. O brave, there will be fine tickling sport. Soft now, what
have I to do? O, I know--now a mess of shoemakers meet at the Woolsack
in Ivy Lane to cozen my
gentleman of lame Ralph’s wife, that’s true (16.151–61).
[...]
Eyre. Lady Madgy, Lady Madgy, take two or three
of my piecrust eaters, my buff-jerkin varlets, that do walk in black
gowns at Simon Eyre’s heels. Take them, good Lady Madgy, trip and go, my
brown Queen of Periwigs, with my delicate Rose and my jolly Rowland to
the Savoy, see them linked,
countenance the marriage, and when it is done, cling, cling together,
you Hamborow turtle-doves. I’ll bear you out. Come to Simon Eyre, come
dwell with me, Hans, thou shalt eat minced-pies and marchpane. Rose,
away, cricket. Trip and go, my Lady Madgy, to the Savoy. Hans, wed and to bed; kiss and away; go;
vanish (17.24–35).
[...]
[...]
Eyre. [...] Soft, the King this day comes to
dine with me, to see my
new buildings (17.43–44).
[...]
Eyre. [...] I promised the mad Cappadocians,
when we all served at the conduit together, that if ever I came to be
Mayor of London, I would feast them all; and I’ll do’t, I’ll do’t, by
the life of Pharaoh, by this beard, Sim Eyre will be no flincher (17.48–52).
[...]
Oatley. Villain, thou told’st me that my
daughter Rose
This morning should be married at Saint Faith’s.
We have watched there these three hours at least,
Yet see we no such thing (18.116–19).
[...]
[...]
Firk. ... Let’s march together for the honour
of Saint Hugh to the
great new hall in Gracious
Street corner, which our master the new Lord Mayor hath built
(18.197–200).
[...]
[...]
King. Nay, my mad Lord Mayor--that shall be thy
name--
If any grace of mine can length thy life,
One honour more I’ll do thee. That new building
Which at thy cost in Cornhill is
erected
Shall take a name from us. We’ll have it called
The Leaden Hall, because in
digging it
You found the lead that covereth the same (21.128–34).
[...]
Eyre. ... [To the
King] They are all beggars, my liege, all for themselves; and
I for them all on both my knees do entreat that for the honour of poor
Simon Eyre and the good of his brethren, these mad knaves, your Grace
would vouchsafe some privilege to my new Leaden Hall, that it may be lawful for us to
buy and sell leather there two days a week.
King. Mad Sim, I grant your suit. You shall
have patent
To hold two market days in Leaden
Hall (21.153–61).
References
- Dekker, Thomas. The Shoemaker’s Holiday. Ed. R.L. Smallwood and Stanley Wells. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1979. Print. The Revels Plays.
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