Trom.
We Coblers lead a merry life:
All.
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
Strum.
Void of all envy and strife:
All.
Dan diddle dan.
Dor.
Our ease is great, our labour small:
All.
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
Strum.
And yet our gains be much withal:
All.
Dan diddle dan.
Dor.
With this art so fine and fair
All.
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
Trom.
No occupation may compare:
All.
Dan diddle dan.
Strum.
For merry pastime and joyful glee:
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
-- 3284 --
Dor.
Most happy Men we Coblers be:
Dan, diddle dan.
Trom.
The Can stands full of nappy Ale,
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
Strum.
In our Shop still withouten fail:
Dan diddle dan.
Dor.
This is our Meat, this is our Food:
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
Trom.
This bring us to a merry mood:
Dan diddle dan.
Strom.
This makes us work for Company:
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
Dor.
To pull the Tankards cheerfully:
Dan diddle dan.
Trom.
Drink to thy Husband, Dorothy,
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
Dor.
Why then my Strumbo there's to thee:
Dan diddle dan.
Strum.
Drink thou the rest Trompart, amain:
Dan, dan, dan, dan.
Dor.
When that is gone, we'll fill't again:
Dan diddle dan.
Enter Captain.
Cap.
The poorest state is farthest from annoy,
How merrily he sitteth on his Stool:
But when he sees that needs he must be prest,
He'll turn his note and sing another tune.
Ho, by your leave master Cobler.
Strum.
You are welcome, Gentleman, what will you any
old Shooes or Buskins, or will you have your Shooes clouted;
I will do them as well as any Cobler in Cathnes whatsoever?
[Captin shewing him Press-mony.
Capt.
O Master Cobler, you are far deceiv'd in me, for done
you see this? I come not to buy any Shooes, but to buy
your self; come, Sir, you must be a Soldier in the King's
Cause.
Strum.
Why, but hear you, Sir, has your King any
Commmission to take any Man against his will? I promise
you, I can scant believe it, or did he give you Commission?
-- 3285 --
Capt.
O, Sir, you need not care for that, I need no Commission:
hold here, I command you in the name of our
King Albanact, to appear to Morrow in the Town-House of
Cathnes.
Strum.
King Nactaball, I cry God mercy, what have we
to do with him, or he with us? but you, Sir Master Capontail,
draw your Pastboard, or else I promise you, I'll
give you a Canvasado with a Bastinado over your Shoulders,
and teach you to come hither with your implements.
Cap.
I pray thee good Fellow be content, I do the King's
Command.
Strum.
Put me out of your Book then.
Cap.
I may not.
[Strumbo snatching up a staff.
Strum.
No will, come, Sir, will your Stomach serve you, by
gogs blew hood and halidom, I will have a bout with you.
[Fight both.
Enter Thrasimachus.
Thra.
How now, what noise, what sudden clamour's this?
How now, my Captain and the Cobler so hard at it?
Sirs what is your quarrel?
Cap.
Nothing, Sir, but that he will not take Press-mony.
Thra.
Here, good Fellow, take it at my command,
Unless you mean to be stretch'd.
Strum.
Truly, Master Gentleman, I lack no Mony, if you
please I will resign it to one of these poor Fellows.
Thra.
No such matter,
Look you be at the common House to morrow.
[Exit Thrasimachus and the Captain.
Strum.
O Wife, I have spun a fair thread, if I had been
quiet, I hat not been Prest, and therefore well may I
lament; But come Sirrah, shut up, for we must to the Wars.
[Exeunt.
Charles Gildon [1709–1710], The works of Mr. William Shakespear; in six [seven] volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe ([Vol. 7] Printed for E. Curll... and E. Sanger [etc.], London) [word count] [S11401].
