Easy. Nay, be persuaded in that, master Blastfield; ’tis ready money at the merchant’s: beside, the winter season and all falls in as pat as can be to help it.
Sho. Well, master Easy, none but you could have persuaded me to that.—Come, would you would despatch then, master Quomodo: where’s this cloth?
Quo. Full and whole within, all of this piece, of my religion, master Blastfield. Feel’t; nay, feel’t, and spare not, gentlemen, your fingers and your judgment.
Sho. Cloth’s good.
Easy. By my troth, exceeding good cloth; a good wale[1033] ’t’as.
Quo. Falselight.
Fal. I’m ne’er out a’ the shop, sir.
Quo. Go, call in a porter presently, to carry away the cloth with the star-mark.—Whither will you please to have it carried, master Blastfield?
Sho. Faith, to master Beggarland, he’s the only merchant now; or his brother, master Stilliarddown; there’s little difference.
Quo. You’ve happened upon the money-men, sir; they and some of their brethren, I can tell you, will not stick to offer thirty thousand pound to be cursed still: great monied men, their stocks lie in the poors’ throats. But you’ll see me sufficiently discharged, master Blastfield, ere you depart?
Sho. You have always found me righteous in that.
Quo. Falselight.
Fal. Sir?
Quo. You may bring a scrivener along with you.
Fal. I’ll remember that, sir. [Exit.
Quo. Have you sent for a citizen, master Blastfield?
Sho. No, faith, not yet.—Boy.
Easy. What must you do with a citizen, sir?
Sho. A custom they’re bound to a’ late by the default of evil debtors; no citizen must lend money without two be bound in the bond; the second man enters but for custom sake.
Easy. No? and must he needs be a citizen?
Sho. By th’ mass, stay; I’ll learn that.—Master Quomodo——
Quo. Sir?
Sho. Must the second party, that enters into bond only for fashion’s sake, needs be a citizen? what say you to this gentleman for one?
Quo. Alas, sir! you know he’s a mere stranger to me: I neither am sure of his going or abiding; he may inn here to-night, and ride away to-morrow: although I grant the chief burden lies upon you, yet we are bound to make choice of those we know, sir.
Sho. Why, he’s a gentleman of a pretty living, sir.
Quo. It may be so; yet, under both your pardons, I’d rather have a citizen.
Easy. I hope you will not disparage me so: ’tis well known I have three hundred pound a-year in Essex.
Sho. Well said; to him thyself, take him up roundly.
Easy. And how doubtfully soe’er you account of me, I do not think but I might make my bond pass for a hundred pound i’ th’ city.
Quo. What, alone, sir?
Easy. Alone, sir? who says so? perhaps I’d send down for a tenant or two.
Quo. Ay, that’s another case, sir.
Easy. Another case let it be then.
Quo. Nay, grow not into anger, sir.
Easy. Not take me into a bond! as good as you shall, goodman goosecap.
Quo. Well, master Blastfield, because I will not disgrace the gentleman, I’m content for once; but we must not make a practice on’t.
Easy. No, sir, now you would, you shall not.
Quo. Cuds me, I’m undone! he’s gone again. [Aside.
Sho. The net’s broke. [Aside.
Tho. Hold there, dear gentleman! [Aside.
Easy. Deny me that small courtesy! ’S foot, a very Jew will not deny it me.
Tho. Now must I catch him warily. [Aside.
Easy. A jest indeed! not take me into a bond, quo’[1034] they.
Sho. Master Easy, mark my words: if it stood not upon the eternal loss of thy credit against supper——
Easy. Mass, that’s true.
Sho. The pawning of thy horse for his own victuals——
Easy. Right, i’faith.
Sho. And thy utter dissolution amongst gentlemen for ever——
Easy. Pox on’t!
Sho. Quomodo should hang, rot, stink——
Quo. Sweet boy, i’faith! [Aside.
Sho. Drop, damn.
Quo. Excellent Shortyard! [Aside.
Easy. I forgot all this: what meant I to swagger before I had money in my purse?—How does master Quomodo? is the bond ready?
Quo. O sir!
Dust. Good day, master Quomodo; good morrow, gentlemen.
Quo. We must require a little aid from your pen, good master Dustbox.
Dust. What be the gentlemen’s names that are bound, sir?
Quo. [while Dustbox writes.] Master John Blastfield, esquire, i’ th’ wold[1035] of Kent: and—what do they call your bedfellow’s[1036] name?
Sho. Master Richard Easy; you may easily hit on’t.
Quo. Master Richard Easy, of Essex, gentleman, both bound to Ephestian Quomodo, citizen and draper, of London; the sum, two hundred pound.—What time do you take, master Blastfield, for the payment?
Sho. I never pass my month, you know.
Quo. I know it, sir: October sixteenth to-day; sixteenth of November, say.
Easy. Is it your custom to return so soon, sir?
Sho. I never miss you.
Fal. I am come for the rest of the same price,[1037] master Quomodo.
Quo. Star-mark; this is it: are all the rest gone?
Fal. They’re all at master Stilliarddown’s by this time.
Easy. How the poor rascal’s all in a froth!
Sho. Push,[1038] they’re ordained to sweat for gentlemen: porters’ backs and women’s bellies bear up the world.
Easy. ’Tis true, i’faith; they bear men and money, and that’s the world.
Sho. You’ve found it, sir.
Dust. I’m ready to your hands, gentlemen.
Sho. Come, master Easy.
Easy. I beseech you, sir.
Sho. It shall be yours, I say.
Easy. Nay, pray, master Blastfield.
Sho. I will not, i’faith.
Easy. What do you mean, sir?
Sho. I should shew little bringing up, to take the way of a stranger.
Easy. By my troth, you do yourself wrong though, master Blastfield.
Sho. Not a whit, sir.
Easy. But to avoid strife, you shall have your will of me for once.
Sho. Let it be so, I pray.
Quo. [while Easy signs the bond.] Now I begin to set one foot upon the land: methinks I am felling of trees already: we shall have some Essex logs yet to keep Christmas with,[1039] and that’s a comfort.
Easy. How like you my Roman hand, i’faith?
Dust. Exceeding well, sir, but that you rest too much upon your R, and make your ease too little.
Easy. I’ll mend that presently.
Dust. Nay, ’tis done now, past mending. [Shortyard signs the bond.]—You both deliver this to master Quomodo as your deed?
Sho. We do, sir.
Quo. I thank you, gentlemen.
Sho. Would the coin would come away now! we have deserved for’t.
Fal. By your leave a little, gentlemen.
Sho. How now? what’s the matter? speak.
Fal. As fast as I can, sir: all the cloth’s come back again.
Quo. How?
Sho. What’s the news?
Fal. The passage to Middleburgh is stopt, and therefore neither master Stilliarddown nor master Beggarland, nor any other merchant, will deliver present money upon’t.
Quo. Why, what hard luck have you, gentlemen!
Easy. Why, master Blastfield!
Sho. Pish!
Easy. You’re so discontented too presently, a man cannot tell how to speak to you.
Sho. Why, what would you say?
Easy. We must make somewhat on’t now, sir.
Sho. Ay, where? how? the best is, it lies all upon my neck.—Master Quomodo, can you help me to any money for’t? speak.
Quo. Troth, master Blastfield, since myself is so unfurnished, I know’ not the means how: there’s one i’ th’ street, a new setter up; if any lay out money upon’t, ’twill be he.
Sho. His name?
Quo. Master Idem: but you know we cannot give but greatly to your loss, because we gain and live by’t.
Sho. ’S foot, will he give any thing?
Easy. Ay, stand upon that.
Sho. Will he give any thing? the brokers will give nothing: to no purpose.
Quo. Falselight.
Fal. Over your head, sir.
Quo. Desire master Idem to come presently, and look upo’ th’ cloth.
Fal. I will, sir. [Exit above.
Sho. What if he should offer but a hundred pound?
Easy. If he want twenty on’t, let’s take it.
Sho. Say you so?
Easy. Master Quomodo, he[1042] will have four or five hundred pound for you of his own within three or four days.
Sho. ’Tis true, he said so indeed.
Easy. Is that your wife, master Quomodo?
Quo. That’s she, little Thomasine.
Easy. Under your leave, sir, I’ll shew myself a gentleman.
Quo. Do, and welcome, master Easy.
Easy. I have commission for what I do, lady, from your husband. [Kisses her.
Tho. You may have a stronger commission for the next, an’t please you, that’s from myself.
Easy. You teach me the best law, lady.
Tho. Beshrew my blood, a proper springall[1043] and a sweet gentleman. [Aside, and exit.
Quo. My son, Sim Quomodo:—here’s more work for you, master Easy; you must salute him too,—for he’s like to be heir of thy land, I can tell thee. [Aside.
Sim. Vim, vitam, spemque salutem.
Quo. He shews you there he was a Cambridge man, sir; but now he’s a Templar: has he not good grace to make a lawyer?
Easy. A very good grace to make a lawyer.
Sho. For indeed he has no grace at all. [Aside.
Quo. Some gave me counsel to make him a divine——
Easy. Fie, fie.
Quo. But some of our livery think it an unfit thing, that our own sons should tell us of our vices: others to make him a physician; but then, being my heir, I’m afraid he would make me away: now, a lawyer they’re all willing to, because ’tis good for our trade, and increaseth the number of cloth gowns; and indeed ’tis the fittest for a citizen’s son, for our word is, What do ye lack?[1044] and their word is, What do you give?
Easy. Exceeding proper.
Quo. Master Idem, welcome.
Fal. I have seen the cloth, sir.
Quo. Very well.
Fal. I am but a young setter up; the uttermost I dare venture upon’t is threescore pound.
Sho. What?
Fal. If it be for me so, I am for it; if not, you have your cloth, and I have my money.
Easy. Nay, pray, master Blastfield, refuse not his kind offer.
Sho. A bargain then, master Idem, clap hands.—He’s finely cheated! [Aside.]—Come, let’s all to the next tavern, and see the money paid.
Easy. A match.
Quo. I follow you, gentlemen; take my son along with you. [Exeunt all but Quomodo.]—Now to my keys: I’m master Idem, he[1045] must fetch the money. First have I caught him in a bond for two hundred pound, and my two hundred pounds’ worth a’ cloth again for threescore pound. Admire me, all you students at inns of cozenage.
The Country Wench[1046] discovered, dressed gentlewoman-like, in a new-fashioned gown: the Tailor points[1047] it; while Mistress Comings, a tirewoman,[1048] is busy about her head: Hellgill looking on.
Hell. You talk of an alteration: here’s the thing itself. What base birth does not raiment make glorious? and what glorious births do not rags make infamous? Why should not a woman confess what she is now, since the finest are but deluding shadows, begot between tirewomen and tailors? for instance, behold their parents!
Mis. C. Say what you will, this wire becomes you best.—How say you, tailor?
Tai. I promise you ’tis a wire would draw me from my work seven days a-week.
Coun. W. Why, do you work a’ Sundays, tailor?
Tai. Hardest of all a’ Sundays, because we are most forbidden.
Coun. W. Troth, and so do most of us women; the better day the better deed, we think.
Mis. C. Excellent, exceeding, i’faith! a narrow-eared wire sets out a cheek so fat and so full: and if you be ruled by me, you shall wear your hair still like a mock-face behind: ’tis such an Italian world, many men know not before from behind.
Tai. How like you the sitting of this gown now, mistress Comings?
Mis. C. It sits at marvellous good ease and comely discretion.
Hell. Who would think now this fine sophisticated squal came out of the bosom of a barn, and the loins of a hay-tosser?
Coun. W. Out, you saucy, pestiferous pander! I scorn that, i’faith.
Hell. Excellent! already the true phrase and style of a strumpet. Stay; a little more of the red, and then I take my leave of your cheek for four and twenty hours.—Do you not think it impossible that her own father should know her now, if he saw her?
Coun. W. Why, I think no less: how can he know me, when I scarce know myself?
Hell. ’Tis right.
Coun. W. But so well you lay wait for a man for me!
Hell. I protest I have bestowed much labour about it; and in fit time, good news I hope.
Ser. I’ve found one yet at last, in whose preferment I hope to reap credit.
Coun. W. Is that the fellow?
Ser. Lady, it is.
Coun. W. Art thou willing to serve me, fellow?
Fath. So please you, he that has not the heart to serve such a mistress as your beautiful self, deserves to be honoured for a fool, or knighted for a coward.
Coun. W. There’s too many of them already.
Fath. ’Twere sin then to raise the number.
Coun. W. Well, we’ll try both our likings for a month, and then either proceed or let fall the suit.
Fath. Be it as you have spoke, but ’tis my hope A longer term.
Coun. W. No, truly; our term ends once a-month: we should get more than the lawyers, for they have but four terms a-year, and we have twelve, and that makes ’em run so fast to us in the vacation.
Fath. A mistress of a choice beauty! Amongst such imperfect creatures I ha’ not seen a perfecter. I should have reckoned the fortunes of my daughter amongst the happiest, had she lighted into such a service; whereas now I rest doubtful whom or where she serves. [Aside.
Coun. W. There’s for your bodily advice, tailor; and there’s for your head-counsel [giving money to the Tailor and to Mistress Comings]; and I discharge you both till to-morrow morning again.
Tai. At which time our neatest attendance.
Mis. C. I pray, have an especial care, howsoever you stand or lie, that nothing fall upon your hair to batter your wire.
Coun. W. I warrant you for that. [Exit Mis. C. with Tailor.]—Which gown becomes me best now, the purple satin or this?
Hell. If my opinion might rule over you——
Let. Come, gallants, I’ll bring you to a beauty shall strike your eyes into your hearts: what you see, you shall desire, yet never enjoy.
Rear. And that’s a villanous torment.
Sale. And is she but your underput, master Lethe?
Let. No more, of my credit; and a gentlewoman of a great house, noble parentage, unmatchable education, my plain pung. I may grace her with the name of a courtesan, a backslider, a prostitution, or such a toy;[1050] but when all comes to all, ’tis but a plain pung. Look you, gentlemen, that’s she; behold her!
Coun. W. O my beloved strayer! I consume in thy absence.
Let. La, you now! You shall not say I’ll be proud to you, gentlemen; I give you leave to salute her.—I’m afraid of nothing now, but that she’ll utterly disgrace ’em, turn tail to ’em, and place their kisses behind her. No, by my faith, she deceives me; by my troth, sh’as kissed ’em both with her lips. I thank you for that music, masters. ’Slid, they both court her at once; and see, if she ha’ not the wit to stand still and let ’em! I think if two men were brewed into one, there is that woman would drink ’em up both. [Aside.
Rear. A coxcomb! he a courtier?
Coun. W. He says he has a place there.
Sale. So has the fool, a better place than he, and can come where he dare not shew his head.
Let. Nay, hear you me, gentlemen——
Sale. I protest you were the last man we spoke on: we’re a little busy yet; pray, stay there awhile; we’ll come to you presently.
Let. This is good, i’faith: endure this, and be a slave for ever! Since you neither savour of good breeding nor bringing up, I’ll slice your hamstrings, but I’ll make you shew mannerly. [Aside.]—Pox on you, leave courting: I ha’ not the heart to hurt an Englishman, i’faith, or else——
Sale. What else?
Let. Prithee, let’s be merry; nothing else.—Here, fetch some wine.
Coun. W. Let my servant go for’t.
Let. Yours? which is he?
Fath.[1051] This, sir.—But I scarce like my mistress now: the loins can ne’er be safe where the flies be so busy.
Hell. Sir, you put up too much indignity; bring company to cut your own throat. The fire is not yet so hot, that you need two screens before it; ’tis but new kindled yet: if ’twere risse[1052] to a flame, I could not blame you then to put others before you; but, alas, all the heat yet is comfortable; a cherisher, not a defacer!
Let. Prithee, let ’em alone; they’ll be ashamed on’t anon, I trow, if they have any grace in ’em.
Hell. I’d fain have him quarrel, fight, and be assuredly killed, that I might beg his place, for there’s ne’er a one void yet. [Aside.
Coun. W. You’ll make him mad anon.
Sale. ’Tis to that end.
Sho. Yet at last master Quomodo is as firm as his promise.
Easy. Did I not tell you still he would?
Sho. Let me see; I am seven hundred pound in bond now to the rascal.
Easy. Nay, you’re no less, master Blastfield; look to’t. By my troth, I must needs confess, sir, you ha’ been uncommonly kind to me since I ha’ been in town: but master Alsup shall know on’t.
Sho. That’s my ambition, sir.
Let. Master Blastfield and master Easy? you’re kind gentlemen both.
Sho. Is that the beauty you famed so?
Let. The same.
Sho. Who be those so industrious about her?
Let. Rearage and Salewood: I’ll tell you the unmannerliest trick of ’em that ever you heard in your life.
Sho. Prithee, what’s that?
Let. I invited ’em hither to look upon her; brought ’em along with me; gave ’em leave to salute her in kindness: what do they but most saucily fall in love with her, very impudently court her for themselves, and, like two crafty attorneys, finding a hole in my lease, go about to defeat me of my right?
Sho. Ha’ they so little conscience?
Let. The most uncivilest part that you have seen! I know they’ll be sorry for’t when they have done; for there’s no man but gives a sigh after his sin of women; I know it by myself.
Sho. You parcel of a rude, saucy, and unmannerly nation——
Let. One good thing in him, he’ll tell ’em on’t roundly.
Sho. Cannot a gentleman purchase a little fire to thaw his appetite by, but must you, that have been daily singed in the flame, be as greedy to beguile him on’t? How can it appear in you but maliciously, and that you go about to engross hell to yourselves? heaven forbid that you should not suffer a stranger to come in! the devil himself is not so unmannerly. I do not think but some of them rather will be wise enough to beg offices there before you, and keep you out; marry, all the spite will be, they cannot sell ’em again.
Coun. W. Nay, gentlemen, you wrong us both then: stand from me; I protest I’ll draw my silver bodkin upon you.
Sho. Clubs, clubs![1054]—Gentlemen, stand upon your guard.
Coun. W. A gentlewoman must swagger a little now and then, I perceive; there would be no civility in her chamber else. Though it be my hard fortune to have my keeper there a coward, the thing that’s kept is a gentlewoman born.
Sho. And, to conclude, a coward, infallible of your side: why do you think, i’faith, I took you to be a coward? do I think you’ll turn your back to any man living? you’ll be whipt first.
Easy. And then indeed she turns her back to some man living.
Sho. But that man shews himself a knave, for he dares not shew his own face when he does it; for some of the common council in Henry the Eighth’s days thought it modesty at that time that one vizzard should look upon another.
Easy. ’Twas honestly considered of ’em, i’faith.
Sho. How now? what piece of stuff comes here?
Let. Now, some good news yet to recover my repute, and grace me in this company. [Aside.]—Gentlemen, are we friends among ourselves?
Sho. United.
Let. Then here comes Rhenish to confirm our amity.—Wagtail, salute them all; they are friends.
Coun. W. Then, saving my quarrel, to you all.
Sho. To’s all. [They drink.
Coun. W. Now beshrew your hearts, and[1055] you do not.
Sho. To sweet master Lethe.
Let. Let it flow this way, dear master Blastfield.—Gentlemen, to you all.
Sho. This Rhenish wine is like the scouring stick to a gun, it makes the barrel clear; it has an excellent virtue, it keeps all the sinks in man and woman’s body sweet in June and July; and, to say truth, if ditches were not cast once a-year, and drabs once a-month, there would be no abiding i’ th’ city.
Let. Gentlemen, I’ll make you privy to a letter I sent.
Sho. A letter comes well after privy; it makes amends.
Let. There’s one Quomodo a draper’s daughter in town, whom for her happy portion I wealthily affect.