The London Prodigal (Folio 3, 1664)
Not Peer Reviewed
The London Prodigal.
15
1805hear, sir?
¶What, are you so proud? do you hear, which is the way
¶O me, this is filching Flowerdale.
¶Lance. O wonderful, is this lewde villain here?
1810O you cheating Rogue, you Cut-purse, Cony-catcher,
¶What ditch, you villain, is my Daughters grave?
¶Take on him that strict habit, very that:
¶When he should turn to angel, a dying grace,
1815I'le Father-in-Law you, sir, I'le make a will:
¶Speak villain, where's my Daughter?
¶Poysoned, I warrant you, or knocked a the head:
¶will,
¶Go, away with him to prison.
¶
Enter Master Civet, his Wife, Oliver, Sir Arthur,
1825
Father, Vnckle, and Delia.
¶Lance. O here's his Unckle, welcome, Gentlemen,
¶welcome all:
¶Such a cozener, Gentlemen, a murderer too
1830Hath been looked for, cannot be found, a vild upon thee.
¶Therefore, in Gods name, doe with him what you will.
1835nothing.
¶Lan. Bring forth my daughter then, away with him.
¶charge?
1840Flow. Murder your dogs, I murder your daughter?
¶Come, Uncle, I know you'll bail me.
¶Unc Not I, were there no more,
¶Then I the Jaylor, thou the prisoner.
¶Lance. Go, away with him.
1845
Enter Luce like a Frow.
¶Luce. O my life, where will you ha de man?
¶Vat ha de yonker done?
¶Wea. Woman, he hath kill'd his wife.
¶you by him.
¶Luce. Have me no, and or way do you have him,
¶He tell me dat he love me heartily.
1855you suffer that?
¶She is my Wives Chamber-maid, and as true as the skin
¶between any mans browes here.
¶Lance. Go to, you're both fooles: Son Civet,
1860Of my life this is a plot,
¶Some stragling counterfeit profer'd to you:
¶No doubt to rob you of your Plate and Jewels:
¶I'le have you led away to prison, Trull.
¶Know you me now? nay never stand amazed.
¶Father, I know I have offended you,
¶And though that duty wills me bend my knees
¶To you in duty and obedience;
1870Yet this wayes do I turn, and to him yield
¶Luce. O M. Flowerdale, if too much grief
¶Have not stopt up the organs of your voice,
1875Then speak to her that is thy faithfull wife,
¶Or doth contempt of me thus tie thy tongue:
¶Turn not away, I am no Æthiope,
¶But rather one made wretched by thy loss.
¶Flow. I am indeed, wife, wonder among wives!
¶Another soul in me, red with defame,
¶I know no sorrow can be compar'd to his.
1890Follow thy fortune, I defie thee.
¶cloth in tocking mill, an che ha not made me weep.
¶Fath. If he hath any grace he'll now repent.
¶Arth. It moves my heart.
¶And to redeem my reputation lost:
¶And, Gentlemen, believe me, I beseech you,
¶As shall deceive your expectation.
¶Lance. How, believe him.
¶Wea. By the Matkins, I do.
1905Lan. What do you think that e're he will have grace?
¶Wea. By my faith it will go hard.
¶Oli. Well, che vor ye he is changed: and, M. Flower-
¶dale, in hope you been so, hold there's vorty pound to-
¶ward your zetting up: what be not ashamed, vang it
1910man, vang it, be a good husband, loven to your wife:
¶and you shall not want for vorty more, I che vor thee.
¶Arth. My means are little, but if you'll follow me,
¶But to your wife I give this Diamond,
1915And prove true Diamond fair in all your life.
¶Flow. Thanks, good Sir Arthur: M. Oliver,
¶You being my enemy, and grown so kind,
¶Binds me in all endeavour to restore.
1920I have vorty pound more here, vang it:
¶Zouth chill devie London else: what, do not think me
¶A Mezel or a Scoundrel, to throw away my money? che
¶have an hundred pound more to pace of any good spota-
¶tion: I hope your under and your Uncle will vollow my
1925zamples.
¶A Cozener, a Deceiver, one that kill'd his painfull
¶Danger of the sea, to get him living & maintain him brave.
Wea.
