All. We thank your lordship. [Rose takes a cup of wine and goes to Hans.
Rose. For his sake whose fair shape thou represent’st,
Good friend, I drink to thee.
Hans. Ic bedancke, good frister.[79]
Marg. I see, Mistress Rose, you do not want judgment; you have drunk to the properest man I keep.
Firk. Here be some have done their parts to be as proper as he.
L. Mayor. Well, urgent business calls me back to London:
Good fellows, first go in and taste our cheer;
And to make merry as you homeward go,
Spend these two angels[80] in beer at Stratford-Bow.
Eyre. To these two, my mad lads, Sim Eyre adds another; then cheerily, Firk; tickle it, Hans, and all for the honour of shoemakers. [All go dancing out.
L. Mayor. Come, Master Eyre, let’s have your company. [Exeunt.
Rose. Sybil, what shall I do?