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.
’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.
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.
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.
First Off. Room there.
Quo. A little yet to raise my spirit,
Here master Lethe comes to wed my daughter:
That’s all the joy is left me.—Hah! who’s this?
Jud. What crimes have those brought forth?
Sale.[1152] The shame of lust:
Most viciously on this his wedding morning
This man was seiz’d in shame with that bold strumpet.
Jud. Why, ’tis she he means to marry.
Let. No, in truth.
Jud. In truth you do:
Who for his wife his harlot doth prefer,
Good reason ’tis that he should marry her.
Coun. W. I crave it on my knees; such was his vow at first.
Hell. I’ll say so too, and work out mine own safety.—
[Aside.
Such was his vow at first indeed, my lord,
Howe’er his mood has chang’d him.
Coun. W. He says it true, my lord.
Jud. Rest content,
He shall both marry and taste punishment.
Let. O, intolerable! I beseech your good lordship,
if I must have an outward punishment, let
me not marry an inward, whose lashes[1154] will ne’er
out, but grow worse and worse. I have a wife
stays for me this morning with seven hundred
pound in her purse: let me be speedily whipt and
be gone, I beseech your lordship.
Sale.[1155] He speaks no truth, my lord: behold the virgin,
Wife to a well-esteemed gentleman,
Loathing the sin he follows.
Let. I was betray’d; yes, faith.
Rear. His own mother,
[1156] my lord,
Which he confess’d through ignorance and disdain,
His name so chang’d to abuse the world and her.
Let. Marry a harlot, why not? ’tis an honest
man’s fortune. I pray, did not one of my countrymen
marry my sister? why, well then, if none
should be married but those that are honest, where
should a man seek a wife after Christmas? I pity
that gentleman that has nine daughters to bestow,
and seven of ’em seeded already; they will be
good stuff by that time.
I do beseech your lordship to remove
The punishment; I am content to marry her.
Jud. There’s no removing of your punishment—
Let. O, good my lord!
Jud. Unless one here assembled,
Whom you have most unnaturally abus’d,
Beget your pardon.
Let. Who should that be?
Or who would do’t that has been so abus’d?
A troublesome penance!—Sir——
Quo. Knave in your face! leave your mocking,
Andrew; marry your quean, and be quiet.
Let. Master Easy——
Easy. I’m sorry you take such a bad course, sir.
Tho. Inquire my right name again[1158] next time;
now go your ways like an ass as you came.
Let. Mass, I forget my mother all this while;
I’ll make her do’t at first.—Pray, mother, your
blessing for once.
Moth. G. Call’st me mother? out, I defy[1159] thee,
slave!
Let. Call me slave as much as you will, but
do not shame me now: let the world know you
are my mother.
Moth. G. Let me not have this villain put upon
me, I beseech your lordship.
Jud. He’s justly curs’d: she loathes to know him now,
Whom he before did as much loathe to know.—
Wilt thou believe me, woman?
Moth. G. That’s soon done.
Jud. Then know him for a villain; ’tis thy son.
Moth. G. Art thou Andrew, my wicked son
Andrew?
Let. You would not believe me, mother.
Moth. G. How art thou changed! Is this suit
fit for thee, a tooth-drawer’s son? This country
has e’en spoiled thee since thou earnest hither: thy
manners [were] better than thy clothes, but now
whole clothes and ragged manners: it may well be
said that truth goes naked; for when thou hadst
scarce a shirt, thou hadst more truth about thee.
Jud. Thou art thine own affliction, Quomodo.
Shortyard, we banish thee; it is our pleasure.
[1160]Sho. Henceforth no woman shall complain for measure.
Jud. And that all error from our works may stand,
We banish Falselight evermore the land.
[Exeunt omnes.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY LEVEY, ROBSON, AND FRANKLYN,
46 St. Martin’s Lane.