Enter Hans, Rose, and Margery.
Marg. Where is my lord?
Eyre. How now, Lady Madgy?
Marg. The king’s most excellent majesty is new come; he sends me for thy honour; one of his most worshipful peers bade me tell thou must be merry, and so forth; but let that pass.
Eyre. Is my sovereign come? Vanish, my tall shoemakers, my nimble brethren; look to my guests, the prentices. Yet stay a little! How now, Hans? How looks my little Rose?
Hans. Let me request you to remember me.
I know, your honour easily may obtain
Free pardon of the king for me and Rose,
And reconcile me to my uncle’s grace.
Eyre. Have done, my good Hans, my honest journeyman; look cheerily! I’ll fall upon both my knees, till they be as hard as horn, but I’ll get thy pardon.
Marg. Good my lord, have a care what you speak to his grace.
Eyre. Away, you Islington whitepot![110] hence, you hopperarse! you barley-pudding, full of maggots! you broiled carbonado![111] avaunt, avaunt, avoid, Mephistophiles! Shall Sim Eyre learn to speak of you, Lady Madgy? Vanish, Mother Miniver-cap; vanish, go, trip and go; meddle with your partlets[112] and your pishery-pashery, your flewes[113] and your whirligigs; go, rub, out of mine alley! Sim Eyre knows how to speak to a Pope, to Sultan Soliman, to Tamburlaine,[114] an he were here; and shall I melt, shall I droop before my sovereign? No, come, my Lady Madgy! Follow me, Hans! About your business, my frolic free-booters! Firk, frisk about, and about, and about, for the honour of mad Simon Eyre, lord mayor of London.
Firk. Hey, for the honour of the shoemakers. [Exeunt.