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The London Prodigal (Folio 3, 1664)

Author: Anonymous
Not Peer Reviewed
6
The London Prodigal.
625Lance. Why no more but this, first get your assurance
made touching my daughters Joynter, that dispatched,
we will in two daies make provision.
Ol.Why man, chil have the writings made by tomorrow.
Lance. To morrow be it then, let's meet at the Kings
630head in Fish-street.
Oli. No, fie man, no, let's meet at the Rose at Temple-
That will be nearer your Counsellor and mine.
Lance. At the Rose be it then, the hour nine,
He that comes last, forfeits a pinte of wine.
635Oli. A piute is no payment, let it be a whole quart, or
Enter Artichoak.
Arti. Master, here is a man would speak with Ma-
ster Oliver, he comes from young Master Flowerdale.
Oli. Why chill speak with him, chill speak with him.
640Lance. Nay, son Oliver, I'le surely see,
What young Flowerdale hath sent to you.
I pray God it be no quarrel.
Oli. Why man, if he quarrel with me, chill give him
his hands full.
645Fath. God save you, good Sir Lancelot.
Lance. Welcome honest friend.
Enter old Flowerdale.
Fath. To you and yours my Master wisheth health,
But unto you, sir, this, and this he sends:
650There is the length, sir, of his Rapier,
And in that paper shall you know his mind.
Oli. Here, chill meet him my friend, chill meet him.
Lance. Meet him, you shall not meet the Ruffin, fie.
Oli. And I do not meet him, chill give you leave to call
655Me Cut, where is't, sirrha? where is't? where is't?
Fath. The Letter shows both time and place,
And if you be a man, then keep your word.
Lan. Sir, he shall not keep his word, he shall not meet.
Fath. Why let him choose, he'll be the better known
660For a base rascal, and reputed so.
Oli. Zirrha, zirrha: and 'twere not an old fellow, and
sent after an arrant, chid give thee something, but chud
be no mony: But hold thee, for I see thou art somewhat
testorn, hold thee, there's vorty shillings, bring thy Master
665a veeld, chil give the vorty more, look thou bring him,
chill mall him tell him, chil mar his dancing tressels, chil
use him, he was nere so used since his dam bound his head,
chil make him for capering any more chy vor thee.
Fath. You seem a man, stout and resolute,
670And I will so report, what ere befall.
Lance. And fall out ill, assure thy Master this,
I'le make him fly the Land, or use him worse.
Fath. My Master, sir, deserves not this of you,
And that you'll shortly finde.
675Lan. Thy Master is an unthrift, you a knave,
And I'le attach you first, next clap him up:
Or have him bound unto his good behaviour.
Oli. I wood you were a sprite if you do him any harm
for this: And you do, chil nere see you, nor any of yours,
680while chil have eyes open: what do you think, chil be
abaffelled up and down the town for a messel, and a
scoundrel, no chy bor you: zirrha chil come, zay no more,
chil come tell him.
Fath. Well, sir, my Master deserves not this of you,
685And that you'll shortly finde.
Exit.
Oli. No matter, he's an unthrift, I defie him.
Lan. No, gentle son, let me know the place.
Oli. Now chye vor you.
Lan. Let me see the Note.
690Oli. Nay, chil watch you for zutch a trick.
But if chee meet him, zo, if not, zo: chil make him know
me, or chil know why I shall not, chil vare the worse.
Lan. What will you then neglect my daughters love?
Venture your state and hers, for a loose brawl?
695Oli. Why man, chil not kill him, marry chil veze him
too, and again; and zo God be with you vather.
What man we shall meet to morrow.
Exit.
Lan. Who would have thought he had bin so desperate.
Come forth my honest servant Artichoak.
700
Enter Artichoak.
Arti. Now, what's the matter? some brawl toward,
I warrant you.
Lan. Go get me thy sword bright scowred, thy buckler
mended, O for that knave, that villain Daffidill would
705have done good service. But to thee.
Arti. I, this is the tricks of all you Gentlemen, when
you stand in need of a good fellow. O for that Daffidill,
O where is he? but if you be angry, and it be but for the
wagging of a straw, then out a doors with the knave, turn
710the coat over his ears. This is the humour of you all.
Lan. O for that knave, that lusty Daffidill.
Arti. Why there 'tis now: our years wages and our
vails will scarce pay for broken swords and bucklers that
we use in our quarrels. But I'le not fight if Daffidill
715be a tother side, that's flat.
Lan. 'Tis no such matter man, get weapons ready, and
be at London ere the break of day: watch near the lod-
ging of the Devon shire Youth, but be unseen: and as he
goes out, as he will go out, and that very early without
720doubt.
Arti. What, would you have me draw upon him,
As he goes in the street?
Lance. Not for a world man, into the fields.
For to the field he goes, there to meet the desperate
725Flowerdale:
Take thou the part of Oliver my son, for he shall be my
And marry Luce: Do'st understand me, knave?
Arti. I, sir, I do understand you, but my young Mistris
might be better provided in matching with my fellow
730Lad. No more; Daffidill is a knave.
That Daffidill is a most notorious knave.
Exit.
Enter Weathercock.
Master Weathercock, you come in happy time, The de-
sperate Flowerdale hath writ a Challenge: And who
735think you must answer it, but the Devon-shire man, my
son Oliver.
Wea. Marry I am sorry for it, good Sir Lancelot,
But if you will be rul'd by me, we'll stay the fury.
Lance. As how I pray?
740Wea. Marry I'le tell you, by promising young Flower-
dale the red lipped Luce.
Lan. I'le rather follow her unto her grave.
Wea. I, Sir Lancelot, I would have thought so too, but
you and I have been deceived in him, come read this
745Will, or Deed, or what you call it, I know not: Come,
come, your Spectacles I pray.
Lan. Nay, I thank God, I see very well.
Wea. Marry God blesse your eyes, mine hath bin dim
almost this thirty years.
750Lance. Ha, what is this? what is this?
Wea. Nay there is true love indeed, he gave it to me
but this very morn, and bad me keep it unseen from any
one, good youth, to see how men may be deceived.
Lan. Passion of me, what a wretch am I to hate this
755loving youth, he hath made me, together with my Luce
he loves so dear, Executors of all his wealth.
Wea. All,