The London Prodigal (Folio 3, 1664)
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8
The London Prodigal.
¶Nick Machivel, I find him
890Good to be known, not to be followed:
¶A pestilent humane fellow, I have made
¶Certain anatations of him such as they be:
¶And how is't, Sir Lancelot? ha? how is't?
¶A mad world, men cannot live quiet in it.
¶Between the Devon-shire man and you.
¶As I am an honest man.
¶Lance. Now I do believe you then, if you do
905Ingage your reputation there is none.
¶Flow. Nay I do not ingage my reputation there is not,
¶But if there be any thing between us, then there is,
¶If there be not, then there is not: be, or be not, all is one.
¶between you, and I am very sorry for it.
¶Flow. You may be deceived, Sir Lancelot, the Italian
¶'Tis out of my head, but in my translation
915Ift hold thus, thou hast a friend, keep him; If a foe trip him.
¶Flow. Well what is between us, can hardly be altered:
¶Sir Lancelot, I am to ride forth to morrow,
¶Me the Sun, I would not by any particular man,
925But return is not my word, I must on:
¶If I cannot, then make my way, nature
¶Hath done the last for me, and there's the fine.
¶Lan. Mr. Flowerdale, every man hath one tongue,
¶And two ears, nature in her building,
¶Then at this time I will speak.
¶But proof is the rule for both.
¶Hath it there in his third canton?
940Lan. I have heard you have bin wild: I have believ'd it.
¶That hath confirmed in me an opinion of
¶Some good I have done, either to you or yours,
¶Lan. Go Mr. Flowerdale, what I know I know:
¶And know you thus much out of my knowledge,
¶That I truly love you. For my daughter,
¶She's yours. And if you like a marriage better
¶tle, you shall be married to a lovely Lady.
¶Flow. Nay but, Sir Lancelot?
960self thus much, I will have order to hinder your encounter.
¶Flow. Nay but hear me, Sir Lancelot.
¶'Tis meerly unsound, unprofitable, and idle:
965fore give me your present word to do it, I'le go and pro-
¶tion, either now or never.
¶Luce. I a fore God, either take me now, or take me never.
¶So fare you well for ever.
¶Flow. Stay: fall out, what may fall, my love
¶Is above all: I will come.
975
Exit Sir Lancelot.
¶Flow. By the Mass that's true: now help Kit,
¶The marriage ended, we'll make amends for all.
¶Fath. Well, no more, prepare you for your Bride,
980We will not want for cloaths, what so ere betide.
¶In mirth we'll spend,
¶Full many a merry hour:
¶As for this wench, I not regard a pin,
¶But that I knew his mother firme and chast,
¶
Enter Uncle.
995Even grown a Master in the School of Vice,
¶One that doth nothing, but invent deceit:
¶For all the day he humours up and down,
¶How he the next day might deceive his friend,
¶He thinks of nothing but the present time:
1000For one groat ready down, he'll pay a shilling,
¶When I was young, I had the scope of youth,
1005I thought it wonder for to dream upon.
¶Fath. Well I have found it, but one thing comforts me
¶Brother, to morrow he's to be married
¶To beauteous Luce, Sir Lancelot Spurcocks daughter.
¶Fath. 'Tis true, and thus I mean to curb him,
¶If any thing will tame him, it must be that,
¶For he is rank in mischief, chained to a life,
¶That were unchristian, and an unhumane part:
¶How many couple even for that very day,
For-
