The London Prodigal (Folio 3, 1664)
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The London Prodigal.
¶The holy Church-man pronounc'd these words but now,
¶Now I must comfort him, not go with you.
1160Led with opinion his false will was true.
¶Wea. A, he hath over-reached me too.
¶Lan. She might have liv'd like Delia, in a happy Vir-
¶gins stato.
¶She craved to be Sir Arthur Greensheild's Wife.
¶Ar. You have done her and me the greater wrong.
¶Lance. O take her yet.
1170Arthur. Not I.
¶Lanc. Or M. Oliver, accept my Child, and half my
¶wealth is yours.
¶long to confusion. You may affect him, though not fol-
¶low him.
¶I swear I'le live with him in all moan.
¶Oli. But an he have his Legs at liberty,
¶Cham aveard he will never live with you.
1185ning away.
¶But if you stand on tearmes to follow him,
¶Never come near my sight, nor look on me,
1190Call me not Father, look not for a Groat,
¶For all the portion I will this day give
¶Besides I'le be a good Wife, and a good Wife
1195Is a good thing I can tell.
¶Cast away, as I am a Gentleman.
1200Lanc. Come then away, or now, or never come.
¶And I to weep, that am with grief opprest.
¶Let's in, I'le help you to far better Wives then her.
¶Flo. Unckle, be-god you have us'd me very hardly,
¶By my troth, upon my wedding Day.
1210
Exeunt all: young Flowerdale, his Father, Unckle,
¶
Sheriffe, and Officers
¶Stay but a little while, good M. Sheriffe,
¶If not for him, for my sake pitty him:
¶My voyce growes weak, for womens words are faint.
¶Unc. Fair maid, for you, I love you with my heart,
¶Go to thy Father, think not upon him,
¶And think that now is the time he doth repent:
1225Alass, what good or gain can you receive,
¶To imprison him that nothing hath to pay?
¶And where nought is, the King doth lose his due,
¶O pitty him as God shall pitty you.
¶Unc. Lady, I know his humours all too well,
1230And nothing in the world can doe him good,
¶Luc. Say that your debts were paid, then is he free?
1235As I to scale the high Piramidies.
¶Sheriffe, take your Prisoner, Maiden, fare thee well.
¶Luc. O go not yet, good M. Flowerdale:
¶Take my word for the debt, my word, my bond.
¶Flow. I, by God, Unckle, and my bond too.
1240Luc. Alass, I ne're ought nothing but I paid it;
¶And I can work, alass, he can doe nothing:
¶I have some friends perhaps will pity me,
¶All that I can, or beg, get, or receive,
1245Shall be for you: O doe not turn away:
¶Me thinks within a face so reverent,
¶So well experienced in this tottering world,
¶Should have some feeling of a maidens grief:
¶I doe release him: M. Sheriffe, I thank you:
1255And Officers, there is for you to drink.
¶Here, maid, take this money, there is a hundred Angels;
¶But let not her have any want at all.
1260Dry your eyes, Niece, doe not too much lament
¶If well he useth thee, he gets him friends,
¶If ill, a shamefull end on him depends.
¶
Exit Vncle.
1265Flow. A plague go with you for an old fornicator:
¶Come, Kit, the money, come, honest Kit.
¶Whether she will or no. A rattle-baby come to follow me?
¶Go, get you gone to the greasie chuffe your Father,
1275Bring me your Dowry, or never look on me.
¶friends for you.
¶Flow. Hang thee, her friends and Father altogether.
1280Flo. Yes, I mean to part with her and you, but if I
¶part with one Angel, hang me at a poste. I'le rather
throw
