Part 32

FA. True: Corruption may well be generation’s first; We’re bad by nature, but by custom worst.

[_Exeunt._

## SCENE III.

QUOMODO’s _Shop_.

THO. [_within_] O, my husband![1111]' SIM. [_within_] My father, O, my father! FAL. [_within_] My sweet master, dead!

_Enter_ SHORTYARD _and Boy_.

SHO. Run, boy; bid ’em ring out; he’s dead, he’s gone. BOY. Then is as arrant a knave gone as e’er was called upon. [_Exit._ SHO. The happiest good that ever Shortyard felt! I want to be express’d, my mirth is such. To be struck now e’en when his joys were high! Men only kiss their knaveries, and so die; I’ve often mark’d it. He was a famous cozener while he liv’d, And now his son shall reap’t;[1112] I’ll ha’ the lands, Let him study law after; ’tis no labour To undo him for ever: but for Easy, Only good confidence did make him foolish, And not the lack of sense; that was not it: ’Tis worldly craft beats down a scholar’s wit. For this our son and heir now, he From his conception was entail’d an ass, And he has kept it well, twenty-five years now: Then the slightest art will do’t; the lands lie fair: No sin to beggar a deceiver’s heir. [_Exit._ [_Bell tolls._

_Enter_ THOMASINE _and_ WINEFRED _in haste_.

THO. Here, Winefred, here, here, here; I have always found thee secret. WIN. You shall always find me so, mistress. THO. Take this letter and this ring—— [_Giving them._ WIN. Yes, forsooth. THO. O, how all the parts about me shake!—inquire for one master Easy, at his old lodging i’ the Blackfriars. WIN. I will indeed, forsooth. THO. Tell him, the party that sent him a hundred pound t’other day to comfort his heart, has likewise sent him this letter and this ring, which has that virtue to recover him again for ever, say: name nobody, Winefred. WIN. Not so much as you, forsooth. THO. Good girl! thou shalt have a mourning-gown at the burial of mine honesty. WIN. And I’ll effect your will a’ my fidelity. [_Exit._ THO. I do account myself the happiest widow that ever counterfeited weeping, in that I have the leisure now both to do that gentleman good and do myself a pleasure; but I must seem like a hanging moon, a little waterish awhile.

_Enter_ REARAGE _and Country Wench’s Father_.

REAR. I entertain both thee and thy device; ’Twill put ’emboth to shame. FA. That is my hope, sir; Especially that strumpet. REAR. Save you, sweet widow! I suffer for your heaviness. THO. O master Rearage, I have lost the dearest husband that ever woman did enjoy! REAR. You must have patience yet. THO. O, talk not to me of patience, and[1113] you love me, good master Rearage. REAR. Yet, if all tongues go right, he did not use you so well as a man mought.[1114] THO. Nay, that’s true indeed, master Rearage; he ne’er used me so well as a woman might have been used, that’s certain; in troth, ’t’as been our greatest falling out, sir; and though it be the part of a widow to shew herself a woman for her husband’s death, yet when I remember all his unkindness, I cannot weep a stroke, i’faith, master Rearage: and, therefore, wisely did a great widow in this land comfort up another; Go to, lady, quoth she, leave blubbering; thou thinkest upon thy husband’s good parts when thou sheddest tears; do but remember how often he has lain from thee, and how many naughty slippery turns he has done thee, and thou wilt ne’er weep for him, I warrant thee. You would not think how that counsel has wrought with me, master Rearage; I could not dispend another tear now, and[1115] you would give me ne’er so much. REAR. Why, I count you the wiser, widow; it shews you have wisdom when you can check your passion:[1116] for mine own part, I have no sense to sorrow for his death, whose life was the only rub to my affection. THO. Troth, and so it was to mine: but take courage now; you’re a landed gentleman, and my daughter is seven hundred pound strong to join with you. REAR. But Lethe lies i’ th’ way. THO. Let him lie still: You shall tread o’er him, or I’ll fail in will. REAR. Sweet widow! [_Exeunt._

## SCENE IV.

_Before_ QUOMODO’s _door_.

_Enter_ QUOMODO _disguised as a Beadle_.

QUO. What a beloved man did I live! My servants gall their fingers with ringing,[1117] my wife’s cheeks smart with weeping, tears stand in every corner,—you may take water in my house. But am not I a wise fool now? what if my wife should take my death so to heart that she should sicken upon’t, nay, swoon, nay, die? When did I hear of a woman do so? let me see; now I remember me, I think ’twas before my time; yes, I have heard of those wives that have wept, and sobbed, and swooned; marry, I never heard but they recovered again; that’s a comfort, la, that’s a comfort; and I hope so will mine. Peace; ’tis near upon the time, I see: here comes the worshipful Livery; I have the hospital boys;[1118] I perceive little Thomasine will bestow cost of me. I’ll listen to the common censure[1119] now, How the world tongues me when my ear lies low.

_Enter the Livery, &c._

FIRST LIVERYMAN. Who, Quomodo? merely enrich’d by shifts And cozenages, believe it. QUO. I see the world is very loath to praise me; ’Tis rawly friends with me: I cannot blame it, For what I’ve[1120] done has been to vex and shame it. Here comes my son, the hope, the landed heir, One[1121] whose rare thrift will say, men’s tongues you lie, I’ll keep by law what was got craftily.

_Enter_ SIM.

Methinks I hear him say so: He does salute the Livery with good grace And solemn gesture. [_Aside._ O my young worshipful master, you have parted from a dear father, a wise and provident father! SIM. Art thou grown an ass now? QUO. Such an honest father—— SIM. Prithee, beadle, leave thy lying; I am scarce able to endure thee, i’faith: what honesty didst thou e’er know by my father, speak? Rule your tongue, beadle, lest I make you prove it; and then I know what will become of you: ’tis the scurviest thing i’ th’ earth to belie the dead so, and he’s a beastly son and heir that will stand by and hear his father belied to his face; he will ne’er prosper, I warrant him. Troth, if I be not ashamed to go to church with him, I would I might be hanged; I hear[1122] such filthy tales go on him. O, if I had known he had been such a lewd[1123] fellow in his life, he should ne’er have kept me company! QUO. O, O, O! [_Aside._ SIM. But I am glad he’s gone, though ’twere long first: Shortyard and I will revel it, i’faith; I have made him my rent-gatherer already. QUO. He shall be speedily disinherited, he gets not a foot, not the crown of a mole-hill: I’ll sooner make a courtier my heir, for teaching my wife tricks, than thee, my most neglectful son. O, now the corse; I shall observe yet farther. [_Aside._

_A coffin brought in,[1124] followed by_ THOMASINE, SUSAN, THOMASINE’S _Mother, and other mourners_.

O my most modest, virtuous, and remembering wife! she shall have all when I die, she shall have all. [_Aside._

_Enter_ EASY.

THO. Master Easy? ’tis: O, what shift shall I make now? [_Aside._]—O!

[_Falls down in a feigned swoon, while the coffin is carried out; the mourners, except_ THOMASINE’S _Mother, following it_.

QUO. Sweet wife, she swoons: I’ll let her alone, I’ll have no mercy at this time; I’ll not see her, I’ll follow the corse. [_Aside, and exit._ EASY. The devil grind thy bones, thou cozening rascal! T.’S MOTH[1125] Give her a little more air; tilt up her head.—Comfort thyself, good widow; do not fall like a beast for a husband: there’s more than we can well tell where to put ’em, good soul. THO. O, I shall be well anon. T.’S MOTH. Fie, you have no patience, i’faith: I have buried four husbands, and never offered ’em such abuse. THO. Cousin,[1126] how do you? EASY. Sorry to see you ill, coz. THO. The worst is past, I hope. [_Pointing after the coffin._ EASY. I hope so too. THO. Lend me your hand, sweet coz; I’ve[1127] troubled you. T.’S MOTH. No trouble indeed, forsooth.—Good cousin, have a care of her, comfort her up as much as you can, and all little enough, I warrant ye. [_Exit._ THO. My most sweet love! EASY. My life is not so dear. THO. I’ve[1128] always pitied you. EASY. You’ve shewn it here, And given the desperate hope. THO. Delay not now; you’ve understood my love; I’ve[1129] a priest ready; this is the fittest season. No eye offends us: let this kiss[1130] Restore thee to more wealth, me to more bliss. EASY. The angels have provided for me. [_Exeunt._

## ACT V. SCENE I.

QUOMODO’S _Shop_.

_Enter_ SHORTYARD _with writings_.[1131]

SHO. I have not scope enough within my breast To keep my joys contain’d: I’m Quomodo’s heir; The lands, assurances, and all are mine: I’ve[1132] tript his son’s heels up above the ground His father left him: had I not encouragement? Do not I know, what proves the father’s prey, The son ne’er looks on’t, but it melts away? Do not I know, the wealth that’s got by fraud, Slaves share it, like the riches of a bawd? Why, ’tis a curse unquenchable, ne’er cools; Knaves still commit their consciences to fools, And they betray who ow’d ’em. Here’s all the bonds, All Easy’s writings: let me see. [_Reads._

_Enter_ THOMASINE _and_ EASY.[1133]

THO. Now my desires wear crowns. EASY. My joys exceed: Man is ne’er healthful till his follies bleed. THO. O, Behold the villain, who in all those shapes Confounded your estate! EASY. That slave! that villain! SHO. So many acres of good meadow—— EASY. Rascal! SHO. I hear you, sir. EASY. Rogue, Shortyard, Blastfield, sergeant, deputy, cozener! SHO. Hold, hold! EASY. I thirst the execution of his ears. THO. Hate you that office. EASY. I’ll strip him bare for punishment and shame. SHO. Why, do but hear me, sir; you will not think What I’ve[1134] done for you. EASY. Given his son my lands! SHO. Why, look you, ’tis not so; you’re not told true: I’ve cozen’d him again merely for you, Merely for you, sir; ’twas my meaning then That you should wed her, and have all agen.[1135] A’ my troth, it’s true, sir: look you then here, sir: [_Giving the writings._ You shall not miss a little scroll, sir. Pray, sir, Let not the city know me for a knave; There be richer men would envy my preferment, If I should be known before ’em. EASY. Villain, my hate to more revenge is drawn: When slaves are found, ’tis their base art to fawn.— Within there!

_Enter Officers[1136] with_ FALSELIGHT _bound_.

SHO. How now? fresh warders! EASY. This is the other, bind him fast.—Have I found you, Master Blastfield? [_Officers bind_ SHORTYARD. SHO. This is the fruit of craft: Like him that shoots up high, looks for the shaft, And finds it in his forehead, so does hit The arrow of our fate; wit destroys wit; The head the body’s bane and his own bears.— You ha’ corn enough, you need not reap mine ears, Sweet master Blastfield! EASY. I loathe his voice; away! [_Exeunt Officers with_ SHORTYARD _and_ FALSELIGHT. THO. What happiness was here! but are you sure you have all? EASY. I hope so, my sweet wife. THO. What difference there is in husbands! not only in one thing but in all. EASY. Here’s good deeds and bad deeds; the writings that keep my land[1137] to me, and the bonds that gave it away from me.

These, my good deeds, shall to more safety turn, And these, my bad, have their deserts and burn. I’ll see thee again presently: read there. [_Exit._ THO. Did he want all, who would not love his care? [_Reads the writings._

_Enter_ QUOMODO _disguised as before_.[1138]

QUO. What a wife hast thou, Ephestian Quomodo! so loving, so mindful of her duty; not only seen to weep, but known to swoon! I knew a widow about Saint Antling’s[1139] so forgetful of her first husband, that she married again within the twelvemonth; nay, some, byrlady,[1140] within the month: there were sights to be seen! Had they my wife’s true sorrows, seven [months] nor seven years would draw ’em to the stake. I would most tradesmen had such a wife as I: they hope they have; we must all hope the best: thus in her honour,— A modest wife is such a jewel, Every goldsmith cannot shew it: He that’s honest and not cruel Is the likeliest man to owe[1141] it— and that’s I: I made it by myself; and coming to her as a beadle for my reward this morning, I’ll see how she takes my death next her heart. [_Aside._ THO. Now, beadle. QUO. Bless your mistresship’s eyes from too many tears, although you have lost a wise and worshipful gentleman. THO. You come for your due, beadle, here i’ th’ house? QUO. Most certain; the hospital money, and mine own poor forty pence. THO. I must crave a discharge from you, beadle. QUO. Call your man; I’ll heartily set my hand to a memorandum. THO. You deal the truelier. QUO. Good wench still. [_Aside._ THO. George!

_Enter Servant._

here is the beadle come for his money; draw a memorandum that he has received all his due he can claim here i’ th’ house after this funeral. QUO. [_Aside, while the Servant writes the memorandum_] What politic directions she gives him, all to secure herself! ’tis time, i’faith, now to pity her: I’ll discover myself to her ere I go; but came it off with some lively jest now, that were admirable. I have it: after the memorandum is written and all, I’ll set my own name to ’t, Ephestian Quomodo: she’ll start, she’ll wonder how Ephestian Quomodo came hither,[1142] that was buried yesterday: you’re beset,[1143] little Quomodo. THO. [_running over the memorandum_] Nineteen, twenty,—five pound, one, two, three [shillings], and fourpence. QUO. [_signing it_] So; we shall have good sport when ’tis read. [_Aside._] [_Exit Servant._

_Enter_ EASY, _as_ THOMASINE _is giving the money to_ QUOMODO.

EASY. How now, lady? paying away money so fast? THO. The beadle’s due here, sir. QUO. Who’s this?[1144] ’Tis Easy! what makes Easy in my house? He is not my wife’s overseer, I hope. [_Aside._ EASY. What’s here? QUO. He makes me sweat! [_Aside._ EASY [_reads_]. _Memorandum, that I have received of Richard Easy all my due I can claim here i’ th’ house, or any hereafter for me: in witness whereof I have set to mine own hand_, EPHESTIAN QUOMODO. QUO. What have I done! was I mad? [_Aside._ EASY. _Ephestian Quomodo?_ QUO. Ay; well, what then, sir? get you out of my house first, You master prodigal Had-land;[1145] away! THO. What, is the beadle drunk or mad? Where are my men to thrust him out a’ doors? QUO. Not so, good Thomasine, not so. THO. This fellow must be whipt. QUO. Thank you, good wife. EASY. I can no longer bear him. THO. Nay, sweet husband. QUO. Husband? I’m undone, beggared, cozened, confounded for ever! married already? [_Aside._]—Will it please you know me now, mistress Harlot and master Horner? who am I now? [_Discovers himself._ THO. O, he’s as like my t’other husband as can be! QUO. I’ll have judgment; I’ll bring you before a judge: you shall feel, wife, whether my flesh be dead or no; I’ll tickle you, i’faith, i’faith. [_Exit._ THO. The judge that he’ll solicit knows me well. EASY. Let’s on then, and our grievances first tell. [_Exeunt._

## SCENE II.

_A Street._

_Enter_ REARAGE _and_ SUSAN.

REAR. Here they come. SUS. O, where?

_Enter Officers[1146] with_ LETHE _and Country Wench in custody_; SALEWOOD, HELLGILL, _and_ MOTHER GRUEL.

LET. Heart of shame! Upon my wedding morning so disgrac’d! Have you so little conscience, officers, You will not take a bribe? COUN. W. Master Lethe, we may lie together lawfully hereafter, for we are coupled together before people enow, i’faith. [_Exeunt Officers with_ LETHE _and Country Wench, &c._ REAR. There goes the strumpet! SUS. Pardon my wilful blindness, and enjoy me; For now the difference appears too plain ’Twixt[1147] a base slave and a true gentleman. REAR. I do embrace thee in the best of love.— How soon affections fail, how soon they prove! [_Exeunt._

## SCENE III.

_An Apartment in the Judge’s House._

_Enter Judge_, EASY _and_ THOMASINE _in talk with him_: SHORTYARD _and_ FALSELIGHT _in the custody of Officers_.

JUD. His cozenages are odious: he the plaintiff! Not only fram’d deceitful in his life, But so to mock his funeral! EASY. Most just: The Livery all assembled, mourning weeds Throughout his house e’en down to his last servant, The herald richly hir’d to lend him arms Feign’d from his ancestors (which I dare swear knew No other arms but those they labour’d with), All preparations furnish’d, nothing wanted Save that which was the cause of all, his death,— If he be living! JUD. ’Twas an impious part. EASY. We are not certain yet it is himself, But some false spirit that assumes his shape, And seeks still to deceive me.

_Enter_ QUOMODO.

QUO. O, are you come?— My lord, they’re here.—Good morrow, Thomasine. JUD. Now, what are you? QUO. I’m[1148] Quomodo, my lord, and this my wife; Those my two men, that are bound wrongfully. JUD. How are we sure you’re he? QUO. O, you cannot miss, my lord! JUD. I’ll try you: Are you the man that liv’d the famous cozener? QUO. O no, my lord! JUD. Did you deceive this gentleman of his right, And laid nets o’er his land? QUO. Not I, my lord. JUD. Then you’re not Quomodo, but a counterfeit.— Lay hands on him, and bear him to the whip. QUO. Stay, stay a little, I pray.—Now I remember me, my lord, I cozen’d him indeed; ’tis wondrous true. JUD. Then I dare swear this is no counterfeit: Let all doubts cease; this man is Quomodo. QUO. Why, la, you now, you would not believe this? I am found what I am. JUD. But setting these thy odious shifts apart, Why did that thought profane enter thy breast, To mock the world with thy supposed death? QUO. Conceive you not that, my lord? a policy. JUD. So. QUO. For having gotten the lands, I thirsted still To know what fate would follow ’em—— JUD. Being ill got. QUO. Your lordship apprehends me. JUD. I think I shall anon. QUO. And thereupon, I, out of policy, possess’d my son, Which since I have found lewd;[1149] and now intend To disinherit him for ever. Not only this was in my death set down, But thereby a firm trial of my wife, Her constant sorrows, her rememb’ring virtues; All which are clews; the shine of a next morning Dries ’em up all, I see’t. JUD. Did you profess wise cozenage, and would dare To put a woman to her two days’ choice, When oft a minute does it? QUO. Less, a moment, The twinkling of an eye, a glimpse, scarce something does it.[1150] Your lordship yet will grant she is my wife? THO. O heaven! JUD. After some penance and the dues of law, I must acknowledge that. QUO. I scarce like Those dues of law. EASY. My lord, Although the law too gently ’lot his wife, The wealth he left behind he cannot challenge. QUO. How? EASY. Behold his hand against it. [_Shewing writings._ QUO. He does devise all means to make me mad, That I may no more lie with my wife In perfect memory; I know’t: but yet The lands will maintain me in my wits; The land[s] will do so much for me. JUD. [_reads_] _In witness whereof I have set to mine own hand_, EPHESTIAN QUOMODO. ’Tis firm enough your own, sir. QUO. A jest, my lord; I did I knew not what. JUD. It should seem so: deceit is her own foe; Craftily gets, and childishly lets go. But yet the lands are his. QUO. I warrant ye. EASY. No, my good lord, the lands know the right heir; I am their master once more. QUO. Have you the lands? EASY. Yes, truly, I praise heaven. QUO. Is this good dealing? Are there such consciences abroad? How, Which way could he come by ’em? SHO. My lord, I’ll quickly resolve[1151] you that it comes to me. This cozener, whom too long I call’d my patron, To my thought dying, and the fool his son Possess’d of all, which my brain partly sweat for, I held it my best virtue, by a plot To get from him what for him was ill got—— QUO. O beastly Shortyard! SHO. When, no sooner mine, But I was glad more quickly to resign. JUD. Craft once discover’d shews her abject line. QUO. He hits me every where; for craft once known Does teach fools wit, leaves the deceiver none. My deeds have cleft me, cleft me! [_Aside._

_Enter Officers with_ LETHE _and the Country Wench_; REARAGE, SUSAN, SALEWOOD, HELLGILL, _and_ MOTHER GRUEL.