Countrymen. His worship!
Justice Woodcock. Fy! fy! what a crowd’s this! Odds, I’ll put some of them in the stocks. (Striking a fellow.) Stand out of the way, sirrah.
Hodge. Now, your honour, now the sport will come. The gut-scrapers are here, and some among them are going to sing and dance. Why, there’s not the like of our Statute, mun, in five counties; others are but fools to it.
Servant Man. Come, good people, make a ring; and stand out, fellow-servants, as many of you as are willing and able to bear a-bob. We’ll let my masters and mistresses see we can do something at least; if they won’t hire us it sha’n’t be our fault. Strike up the Servants’ Medley.
AIR.
Housemaid.
I pray, gentles, list to me,
I’m young and strong, and clean, you see;
I’ll not turn tail to any she,
For work that’s in the country.
Of all your house the charge I take,
I wash, I scrub, I brew, I bake;
And more can do than here I’ll speak,
Depending on your bounty.
Footman.
Behold a blade, who knows his trade.
In chamber, hall, and entry:
And what though here I now appear,
I’ve served the best of gentry.
A footman would you have,
I can dress, and comb, and shave;
For I a handy lad am:
On a message I can go,
And slip a billet-doux,
With your humble servant, madam.
Cookmaid.