SCENE II.

CREDULOUS, _and_ SHAPE _dogging him_.

CRE. So now the mortgage is mine own outright; I swear by the faith of my body now, It is a pretty thing--o' my corporal oath, A very pretty thing. Besides the house, Orchards, and gardens, some two hundred acres Of land, that beareth as good country corn, For country corn, as may be.

SHAPE. As I'd have it.

CRE. How now, good friend? Where dost thou live? Dost thou know Caster's farm?

SHAPE. Yes, sir; I fear 'tis gone: Sure, Caster's farm is cast away!

CRE. A jest! Good troth, a good one of a country one; I see there's wit there too. Then thou dost know it?

SHAPE. I am afraid I shall not know it long; I shall lose my acquaintance.

CRE. 'Snigs, another! A very perilous head! a dangerous brain!

SHAPE. God bless my master, and the devil take Somebody else.

CRE. Um! that's not quite so good As th' other two; that somebody else is me: Now you shall see how he'll abuse me here To mine own face. [_Aside._] Why somebody else, good brother?

SHAPE. The rich gout rot his bones! An hungry, old, Hard-griping citizen, that only feeds On heirs' and orphans' goods, they say must have it: One that ne'er had the wisdom to be honest, And's therefore knave, 'cause 'tis the easier art. I know he hath not given half the worth on't: 'Tis a mere cheat.

CRE. 'Slid, brother, thou hast paid him To th' utmost, though he hath not paid thy master. Now is my wit up too. This land, I see, Will make men thrive i' th' brain. [_Aside._

SHAPE. Would he were here, Whoe'er he be, I'd give him somewhat more Into the bargain: a base, thin-jaw'd sneaksbill, Thus to work gallants out of all! It grieves me, That my poor tenement too goes into th' sale.

CRE. What have I done? Now, wit, deliver me! If he know I am he, he'll cut my throat; I never shall enjoy it. [_Aside._] Sure, it was Your master's seeking, friend; he would ne'er else Have had to do with it: he that bought it is A very honest man, and if you please him, Will deal with you. I may speak a word In your behalf; 'twon't be the worse for you.

SHAPE. I'm going, sir, unto him; do you know Where I may find him?

CRE. What if I am he?

SHAPE. I am afraid he is not half so honest As you do seem.

CRE. Faith, I'm the same. I tried What metal thou wast made of: I perceive Thou wilt not flinch for th' wetting;[191] thou may'st be My bailiff there, perhaps.

SHAPE. An't please your worship! [_Aside._

CRE. So now the case is alter'd.

SHAPE. I do know It was my master's seeking; you would ne'er Have had to do with't else. He sent me to you For the last hundred pound by the same token That you invited him to th' eating-house.

CRE. O, this simplicity! He does not know Yet what an ordinary means. [_Aside._] I was now coming To have paid it in.

SHAPE. I'll save your worship that Labour, an't please you. Let me now begin My bailiffship.

CRE. 'Snigs, wiser yet than so. Where is thy master?

SHAPE. Sir, my master's here, I thank my stars; but Master Caster is At an horse-race some ten miles off.

CRE. Why, then, I'll stay till he returns: 'twill be by dinner.

SHAPE. Your best way's now to send it: if by chance The race go on his side, your worship may Fail of your purchase.

CRE. 'Snigs, and that's considerable. Here, here, make haste with it; but, ere thou goest, Tell me, is it a pretty thing?

SHAPE. O' my corporal oath, A very pretty thing. Besides the house, Orchards, and gardens, some two hundred acres Of land that beareth as good country corn-- God give you luck on't!

CRE. Right, as I did say, Ev'n word by word. But prythee, stay a little; What meadow-ground's there? Pasture in proportion?

SHAPE. As you would wish, sir, I'm in haste.

CRE. Nay, bailiff, But one word more, and I have done: what place Is there to dry wet linen in?

SHAPE. O, twenty, To hang up clothes or anything you please; Your worship cannot want line-room. God be wi' you!

CRE. But this once, and--

SHAPE. I must be gone--The race! [_Exit_ SHAPE.

CRE. Little think'st thee, how diligent thou art To little purpose. 'Snigs, I pity him: What haste he makes to cheat himself, poor fool! Now I am safe, the wretch must pardon me For his poor tenement; all's mine. I'll sow One ground or other every month with pease; And so I will have green ones all the year. These yeomen have no policy i' th' world. [_Exit._