QUOMODO

O my 2. spirits Shortyard and Falselight, you that have so enriched me, I have industry for you both? Wealthy employment. You Falselight as I have directed you. Go, make my course commodities, look, seek, with subtle art beguile the honest eye, be near to my trap window, cunning Falselight. I know thou didst not; But now to thee my true and secret Shortyard, Whom I dare trustee'n with my wife, Thou never didst mistress harm, but master, good, There are too few of thy name Gentlemen, And that we feel, but Citizens abundance, I have a task for thee my pregnant spirit, To exercise thy pointed wits upon. Thine care shall drink it, Know then I have not spent this long Vacation Only for pleasures sake, give me the man Who out of recreation culls advantage, Dives into seasons, never walks, but thinks, Ne ides, but plots, my journey was towards Essex. Where I have seen what I desire. Puh; a woman, yet beneath her, that which she often treads on. Yet commands her land, fair neat Land. Why the fairest to cleave the heir in twain, I mean his Title to murder his estate, stifle his right in some some detested prison, there are means and ways enough to hook in Gentry, be sides our deadly enmity which thus stands they're busy about our wives, We about their Lands. Ah sirrah, do we stinge'm, this fresh gallant road newly up before me! Young master Easy. I have inquired his haunt, stay, would, I that, it's, thats he, thats he! Observe, take surely note of him, he's fresh and free shift thy self speedily into the shape of gallan try, I'll swell thy purse with angels, keep foot by foot with him, outdare his expenses, flat ter, dice, and brothel to him, give him a sweet taste of Sensuality, train him to every wasteful sin, that he may quickly need health, but especially money, ravish him with a dame or two, be his bawd for once, I'll be thine for ever, drink drunk with him, creep into bed to him, kiss him and undo him, my sweet spirit. Oh my most cheerful spirit, go, dispatch, Gentry is the chief fish we Tradesmen catch. How now, what prating have we hear? whispers, dumshowes? why Tomazin, goo too—my shop is not alto gether so dark as some of my neighbours, where a man may be made Cuckold at one end, while he's measuring with his yard at tother. I, he's often first a Gentleman that's last a beggar. 'Tis truetoo—thou knowest beside, we undo Gen tlemen daily O, that gives a Citizen a better appetite then his Garden. Faith I think they are all of thy mind for that thing, how now Falslight? O my sweet Short-yard!—Daughter, get you up to your Virginals: by your leave Mistress Quomodo. Then I cry you mercy sir, you're especially welcome. But how shall I do for you now Master Blastfield? It is my greatest affliction at this instant, I am not a ble to furnish you. Upon my Religion Master Blastfield, bonds lie forfeete in my hands, I expect the receit of a thousand eve rye hour, and cannot yet set eye of a penny. 'Tis mine own pity that plots against me Master Blastfield, they know I have no conscience to take the for fe ture, and that makes em so bold with my mercy. Never the less, if I might entreat your delay but the age of three days to express my sorrow now, I would dou ble the sum, and supply you with four or five hundred. I good sir, and it may be possible. No the 'me afraid 'twill be my grief sir. Me thinks Master Blastfield, you might easily at taine to the satisfaction of 3. days, here's a Gentleman your friend I dare say will see you sufficiently possessed till then. Do you hear sir? you can persuade with him. Rather then he should be altogether destitute, or be too much a vexation to himself, he shall take up a common ditie of cloth of me tell him. Two hundred pounds worth upon my Religion say. He's a very wilful Gentleman at this Time i'faith: he knows as well what to do with it, as I my self Iwis: ther's no Merchant in Town but will be greedy vpon't, and pay down money vpo'th nail, the'l dispatch it over to Mid dle-borrow presently, and raise double commodity by ex change, if not, you know 'tis Termtime, and Michaelmas Term too, the Drapers harvest, for footcloaths, riding suts, walking suits, chamber gowns, and hall gowns. Nay take me with you again ere you go sir, I offer him no trash him, but present money, say, where I know some Gentlemen in town would been glad, and are glad at this time, to take up commodities in Hawks hoods, and brown paper. I offer him no trash tell him, upon my Religion you may say,—Now my sweet Shortyand,—now the hungry fish begins to nibble: one end of the worm is in his mouth i'faith. Full and whole within, all of this piece of my Religi on Master Blastfield, feel't, nay feel't and spare not, Gentle men! your fingers and your judgement. Falslight. Go, call in a Porter presently to carry away the cloth with the Star mark, whither will you please to have it car ryed Master Blastfield? Y'aue 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 moneyed men, their stocks lie in the Poors throats: but yowl see me sufficiently discharged Master Blastfield ere you depart. Falslight. You may bring a Scrivener along with you. Have you sent for a Citizen Master Blastfield. Sir. It may be so: yet under both your pardons I'de ra there have a Citizen. What alone sir? I, that's another case sir. Nay, grow not into anger sir. Well Master Blastfield, because I will not disgrace the Gentleman, i'm content for once, but we must not make a practice on't. Cuds me, i'm undone, he's gone again. Sweet boy i'faith. Excellent Shortyard. O sir. Give it the Scrivener: here he comes. We must require a little aid from your pen, good master Dustbox. Master John Blastfield Esquireith wild of Kenned, and what do they call your bed f llowes name? Master Richard Easy of Essex Gentleman, both bound to Ephestian Quomodo Citizen and Draper of Lon done: the sum two hundred pound. What Time do you take master Blastfield for the payment? I know it sir. October sixteenth to day, sixteenth of November say. Star-marke, this is it, are all the rest gone? Now I begin to set one foot upon the land, me thinks I am felling of Trees already, we shall have some Essex Logs yet to keep Christmas with, and that's a comfort. I thank you Gentlemen, How? Why what hard luck have you Gentlemen? Troth Master Blastfield, since my self is so vnfur nisht, I know not the means how, there's one 'ith street a new setter up, if any lay out money upon't 'twill be he. Master Idem—but you know we cannot give but greatly to your lose, because we gain and live by't. Falslight. Desire Master Idem to come presently and look vppo'th cloth. That's she, little Tomazin? Do, and welcome Master Easy. 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. He shows you there he was a Cambridge man sir, but now he's a Templer, ha he not good grace to make a Law year? Some gave me counsel to make him a Divine. But some of our livery think it and 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 thei'r all willing too, because 'tis good for our trade and increases, the number of Cloath-gownes, and indeed 'tis the fittest for a Citizens Son, for our word is, what do ye lack? and their word is what do you give. Master Idem welcome. Very well. I follow you Gentlemen, take my Son along with you. Now to my keys: me Master Idem, he must fetch the money, first have I caught him in a bound for two hundred pound, and my two hundred pounds worth a doath again for threescore pound: admire me all you studyents at Inns for cozenage. Would? have they him sayest thou? The land's mine, thats sure enough boy. Let me advance thee knave, and give thee a kiss, My pl t's so firm I dare it now to miss. Now shall I be diuulgde a landed man, Throughout the livery:—one points, another whispers, A third frets inwardly: let him fret and hang, Especially his envy I shall have, That would be feign, yet cannot be a knave, Like and old leather girded in furde Gown, Whose mind stands stiff but his performance down. Now come my golden days in:—whither is the wor shipfull master Quomodo, and his fair Bedfellow rid forth, To his land in Essex? whence comes those goodly load of Logs? from his land in Essex? where grows this pleasant fruit, says one Citizens wife in the row; at master Quo modos Orchard in Essex; o, o, do's it so, I thank you for that good news i'faith. Grant me patience in my joys, that being so great I run not mad with they. How now Sergeants? who would you brought me here, master Easy? Did you not hear me say. I had rather would had master Blastfield, the more sufficient man a great deal? Why did you so sir? You did well in that I must needs say, for your own securities, but it not my mind master Easy to have you first, you must needs think so. But since you are come to me, I have no reason to re fuse you, I should show little manners in that sir. By my troth that's my meaning sir, you shall find me and honest man, you see I mean what I say, is not the day passed, the money vntendred, you'd would me live upright lie master Easy? Why sir, I know master Blastfield is the man, but is he any more then one man? two entered into bound to me, or I'm foully coozn'd. Why, isle a gree to you, you'll grant 'tis the fashion Like wise when the Bond's endue to have the money paid again. Marry do's it sir, these fellows know the law,— beside, you offered yourself into Bound to me you know, when I had no stomach to you, now beshrew your heart for your labour, I might would had a good substantial Citizen, that would would paid the sum roundly, although I think you suffici ent enough for seven hundred pound, beside the forfeiture, I would be loath to disgrace you so much before Sergeants. He will prove the honester man then, & you the bet ter discharged, I wonder he should break with me, was ne ver his practice, you must not be angry with me now, though you were somewhat hight when you entered into Bound, you may easily go in angrily, but you cannot come out so. You know that before this time I hope sir, present money, or present imprisonment. You had commodities, an't please you Yes, and you would not laugh at me: we are some times Gulls to Gentlemen I thank they; but Gentlemen are never Gulls to us, I commend they. Nay take him along with you Sergeant. Let me not be too long delayed I charge you. Oh master Easy, of all men living I never dream you would would done me this injury: make me would my credit dite, fail in my commodities, ring my state into suspicion: for the breaking of your day to me, has broken my day to others. O whats a man but his honesty master Easy, and thats a fault amongst most of us all,—Mark but this note, I'll give you good counsel now,—as often as you give your name to a bound, you must think you Christian a child, and take the charge on't too: for as the one, the bigger it grows the more cost it requires: so the other the longer it lies, the more charges it puts you too, only here's the difference a child must be broke, and a bound must not, the more you break children, the more you keep they under: but the more you break bonds, the more theyle leap in your face, and therefore, to conclude, I would never undertake to be Gos sip to that bound which I would not see well brought up. Ah fool, thou shouldst near would tasted such wit but that I know 'tis too late. To put all this into the compass of a little hoop Ring Make this account, come better days or worse, So many bonds abroad, so many boys at nurse. Faith they are Like the ofsprings of stolen lust, put to the hospital, their father's are not to be found, they are either too far abroad, or too close within, and thus for your memo rises sake. The desperate Debtor hence derives his name, One that has neither money, land nor fame, All that he makes, prove Bestards, and not Bonds, But such as yours, at first are horn to lands. In the mean time heeres a shrewd knave will disin herit you. How? y'aue continued z ed me there y aith. And you told me you had no friends here at all, how should a man trust you now? How unco ̄ scionably he gulls himself—they must be wealthy subsidie-men sir, at least forty pound 'ith Kings Books I can tell you, that do such a feat for you. Byr'lady Alderman's Deputies, I am very sorry for you sir, I cannot refuse such men. He speaks truer then he thinks, for if he knew, The hearts that owe those faces—a dark shop's good for somewhat. 'Tis enough for you to hear that, you're the fortunate man sir. Your worships. Your worships are good bail you content me. With all my heart sir. What, what? You're very welcome, master Easy, I would nothing to say to you, isle not touch you, you may go when you please,— I have good bail here I thank their worships. Subtle Shortyard! What shall I do with Rubbish, give me money: 'Tis for your worships to have land, that keep great houses, I should be hoisted. I must needs say, he is a Templer indeed. I am not a Bow wide of your mind sir.— And for the thirsty and covetous Hope's I have in my son and heir Sim Qmomodo, that he will never trust his land in Wax and Parchment as many Gentlemen have done be before him. I will honestly discharge you, and recevue it in endue form and order of law, to strengthen it for ever to my son and h ire, that he may undoubtedly enter upon't without the let or molestation of any man, at his or our pleasure whensoever. Why then master Basie you're a freeman sir, you may deal in what you please, and go whither you will. Why To mazin, master Easy is dome from Essex, bid him welcome in a cup of small Bear. Excellent excellent, sweet Spirits. Delicate shortyard, commodious Falslight, Hug and away, shift, shift. 'Tis slight, not strength that gives the greatest lift. Now my desires are full—for this time, Men may have Cormorant wishes, but alas A little thing three hundred pound a year, Suffices nature, keeps life and soul together, I'll have they l pt immediately. I long to warm my self by'th wood,—A fine jour ney in the Whitsun-holy days i'faith, to ride down with a number of Citizens, and their wives, some upon pillions, some upon S de saddles, I, and little Tomazin ith middle our some and heir S m Quomodo in a peach colour Taffeta Jac k to, some Horse length, or a long ard before us, there will be a fine show on's I can tell you, where we Citizens will laugh, and lie down ge all our wives with child against a bank and get up again, stay, would ast thou that wit i'faith 'twill be and mirable, to see how the very thought of green fields puts a man into sweet inuenttions. I will presently possess Sim Quomodo of all the land, I have a toy and isle doo't: and be caused e I see before mine eyes that most of our heirs prove no torious Rioters after our death's, and that cousinage in the father wheels about to folly in the son, our posterity commonly foylde at the same weapon, at which we played rarely. And being the world beaten word, what's God oh ver the Devils back, (that's by knavery) must be spent un der his belly, (that's by lechery) being awake in these know ings, why should not I oppose they now, and break desti nigh of her custom, preventing that by policy, which with out it must needs be Destiny? and I have took the course, I will forthwith sicken, call for my keys, make my Will, and dispose of all, give my son this blessing, that he trust no man, keep his hand from a quean, and a Scrivener, live in his father's faith, and do good to no body: then will I be gin to rave Like a fellow of a wide conscience, and for all the world counterfeit to the life, that which I know I shall do when I die, take on for my gold, my lands, and my wry tings, grow worse and worse, call upon the Devil, and so make and end by this time I have indented with a couple of searchers, who to uphold my device shall fray them out a'th Chamber with report of sickness, and so la, I start up, and recover again: for in this business I will trust, no not my spi rits Falslight & shortyard, but in disguise note the condition of all, how pitiful my wife takes my death, which will appear by November in her eye, and the fallen of the leaf inhere body, but especially by the cost she bestows upon ̄ my funeral, there shall I try her love and regard, my daughters marrying to my will & liking, and my sons affection after my dispo sing: for to continued ̄ clude I am as jealous of this land as of my wife, to know what would become of it after my decease. What a beloude man did I live? my Servants gall their fingers with ringing, my wives cheeks smart with weeping, 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 it before my Time; yes, I have herd of those wives that have wept, and S bd, and swoon—marry I never herd but they recovered again, that's a continued ̄ fort la, that's a comfort, & I hope so will mine —peace, 'tis never upon the time, I see, here comes the worshipful livery, I have the Hospital Boys, I perceive little Tomazin will bestow cost of me,—I'll listen to the come mon censure now, how the world tongues me when my are lies low. I see the world is very loath to praise me, 'Tis Rawly friends with me, I cannot blame it, For what I have done, has been to vex and shame it. Here comes my Son, the hope, the landed heir, Ont whose rare thrift, will say men's tongues you lie, I'll keep by law what was God craftily. Me thinks I hear him say so: He does salute the livery with good grace, And solemn Gesture— O—oh—oh! He shall be speedily disinherited, he gettes not a foot, not the Crown of a Molehill, isle sooner make a cour tyer my heir for teaching my wife tricks then thee, my most neglectful Son? O now the coarse, I shall ob serve yet farther. Oh my most modest, virtuous and remembering wife, she shall have all when I die, she shall have all. Sweet wife she sownes, isle let her alone, isle have no mercy at this time, isle not see her, isle follow the coarse. What a wife hast thou Ephestian—Quomodo, so lo ving so mindful of her duty not only seen to weep but known to swoon, I knew a Widow about Saint Antlings so forgetful of his first Husband, that she married again with in the twelvemonth, nay some berladye within the month: there were sights to be seen, had they my wives true sorrows seven nor seven years would draw e'm 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. Bless your mistrisships eyes from too many tears, Although you have lost a wise and worshipful Gentleman. Most certain, the Hospital money and mine own poor forty pence. Call your man, isle heartily see my hand to a Memo randum. Good wench still. What politic directions she gives him, all to secure her self, 'tis time i'faith now to pity her, isle discover my self to her ere I go, but came it off with some lively jest now, that were admyrable: I have it? after the memorandum is written and all, isle set my own name too't Ephestian Quomodo, sheele start, sheele wonder how Ephest Quomodo came the there that was buried yesterday: you're beset little Quomodo. So, we shall have good sport, when 'tis read: Whose? 'tis Easy, what makes Easy in my house, He is not my wives over seer I hope: He makes me sweat. What have I done? was I mad? I, well, what then sir? get you out of my house, First you master Prodigal had land, away. Not so good Tomazin not so. Thank you good wife. Husband I me undone, beggard, couzend, confoun dead for ever: married already? will it please you know me now mistress Harlot, and master Horner, who am I now? I'll have judgement, isle bring you before a Judge, you shall feel wife whither my flesh be dead or no, isle tickle you i'faith, i'faith. O are you come? my Lord? their here, good morrow Tomazin. I am Quomodo my Lord, & this my wife, Those my two men, that are bound wrongfully. O you cannot miss my Lord. Oh no my Lord. Not I my Lord. Stay, stay a little I pray, now I remember me my Lord, I cozened him indeed, 'tis wondrous true. Why la you now, you would not believe this, I am found what I am. Conceive you not that my Lord? a policy. For having got the lands I thirsted still, To know what fate would follow they. Your Lorpship apprehends me. And thereupon, I out of policy possessed my son, Which since I have found lewd, 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 remembering virtues, All which are Dews, the shine of a next morning 'dries they up all I see't. Less, a moment The twinkling of and eye, a glimpse, scarce something do's it, Your Lordship yet will grant she is my wife. I scarce Like Those Deues of law. How? He do's devise all means to make me mad, that I may no more lie with my wife in perfect memory, I know't b to et the lands will maintain me in my wits: the land will do so much for me. A jest my Lord, I did I knew not what. I, warrant ye. Have you the lands? Is this good dealing? are there such consciences a broad, how? which way could he come by they? Oh beastly Shortyard! He hits me every where, for craft once known, Do's teach fools wit, leaves the deceiver none. My deeds have cleft me, cleft me. A little yet to raise my spirit. Here master Lethe comes to wed my Daughter. That's all the joy is left me: would? who's this? Knave in your face, leave your mocking, Andrew, marry your Qeane and be quiet. O, & that you Like not he that can make us rich in custom, strong in friends, happy in suits, bring us into all the Rome's a Sundays, from the leads to the seller, pop us in with Venison till we crack again, & send home the rest in and ho norable Napkin—this man you Like not forsooth? Tut, thy Mother's a fool—pray whats Master Re rage whom you plead for so? That you may, and welcome sweet hony-thye, but not at this season, there's a Buck to be struck. Be you prepared as I tell you. O that sweet, neat, comely, proper, delicate par cell of land, Like a fine Gentlewoman ith waste: not so great as pretty, pretty: the Trees in Summer whistling, the sil ver waters by the Banks harmoniouslye gliding, I should have been a Scholar, and excellent place for a student: fit for my Son that lately commenced at Cambridge, whom now I have placed at Inns of Court: Thus we that seldom get Lands honestly, must leave our heirs to inherit our knave rye: but whist, one turn about my shop and meet with e'm. Do you hear sir, what lack you Gentlemen? see good Kersies or broad clothes here, I pray come near —Master Blastfield? You're exceeding welcome to Town sir, your wor ship must pardon me, 'tis always misty weather in our shops here: we are a Nation the Sun ere shines upon,—Came this Gentleman with you? If it please you sir, you know the house, you may visit us often and dine with us once a quarter. A lass 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. My blessing go with thy li king o my young Worshipful M. you have parted from a deer Father, a wise and proui-dent father. Such and honest Father—