Act 5 — ACT V. SCENE I.
Reading edition
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.
501Enter 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,
502Let 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.
503These, 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.
504Tho. 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?
505Tho. 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!
506Quo. 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.