Eyre. Want they meat? Where’s this swag-belly, this greasy kitchenstuff cook? Call the varlet to me! Want meat? Firk, Hodge, lame Ralph, run, my tall men, beleaguer the shambles, beggar all Eastcheap, serve me whole oxen in chargers, and let sheep whine upon the tables like pigs for want of good fellows to eat them. Want meat? Vanish, Firk! Avaunt, Hodge!
Hodge. Your lordship mistakes my man Firk; he means, their bellies want meat, not the boards; for they have drunk so much, they can eat nothing.
The Second Three Men’s Song.[108]
Cold’s the wind, and wet’s the rain,
Saint Hugh be our good speed:
Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain,
Nor helps good hearts in need.
Trowl[109] the bowl, the jolly nut-brown bowl,
And here, kind mate, to thee:
Let’s sing a dirge for Saint Hugh’s soul,
And down it merrily.
Down a down heydown a down,
Hey derry derry, down a down! (Close with the tenor boy)
Ho, well done; to me let come!
Ring, compass, gentle joy.
Trowl the bowl, the nut-brown bowl,
And here, kind mate, to thee: etc.
[Repeat as often as there be men to drink; and at last when all have drunk, this verse:
Cold’s the wind, and wet’s the rain,
Saint Hugh be our good speed:
Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain,
Nor helps good hearts in need.