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American Shakespeare Center, The Duchess of Malfi. To Jun. 15, 2013.
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The London Prodigal (Folio 3, 1664)

Author: Anonymous
Not Peer Reviewed
Enter Flowerdale.
Flow. A plague of the devil, the devil take the dice,
1430The dice, and the devil, and his damme go together:
Of all my hundred golden angels,
I have not left me one denier:
A pox of come a five, what shall I doe?
I can borrow no more of my credit:
1435There's not any of my acquaintance, man, nor boy,
But I have borrowed more or lesse of:
I would I knew where to take a good purse,
And go clear away, by this light I'le venture for it,
Gods lid my sister Delia,
1440I'le rob her, by this hand.
Enter Delia and Artichoake.
Delia. I prethee, Artichoake, goe not so fast,
The weather is hot, and I am something weary.
Art. Nay I warrant you, mistress Delia, I'le not tire you
1445With leading, we'll go an extream moderate pace.
Flow. Stand, deliver your purse.
Art. O Lord, thieves, thieves.
Exit Artichoake.
Flow. Come, come, your purse Lady, your purse.
1450Delia. That voice I have heard often before this time,
What, brother Flowerdale become a thiefe?
Flow. I, a plague ont, I thank your father;
But sister, come, your money, come:
What the world must find me, I am borne to live,
1455'Tis not a sin to steal, when none will give.
Delia. O God, is all grace banisht from thy heart,
Think of the shame that doth attend this fact.
Flow. Shame me no shames, come give me your purse,
I'le bind you, sister, least I fare the worse.
1460Delia. No, bind me not, hold, there is all I have,
And would that money would redeem thy shame.
Enter Oliver, Sir Arthur, and Artichoake.
Arti. Thieves, thieves, thieves.
Oli. Thieves, where man? why how now, mistresse
1465Ha you a liked to bin a robbed?
Deli. No, master Oliver, 'tis master Flowerdale, he
did but jest with me.
Oliv. How, Flowerdale, that scoundrell? sirrah, you
meten us well, vang the that.
1470Flow. Well, sir, I'le not meddle with you, because I
have a charge.
Delia. Here, brother Flowerdale, I'le lend you this
same money.
Flow. I thank you, sister.
1475Oliv. I wad you were ysplit, and you let the mezell
have a penny;
But since you cannot keep it, chil keep it my self.
Art. 'Tis pity to relieve him in this sort,
Who makes a triumphant life his dayly sport.
1480Delia. Brother, you see how all men censure you,
Farewell, and I pray God amend your life.
Oliv. Come, chil bring you along, and you safe enough
From twenty such scoundrells as thick an one is,
Farewell and be hanged, zyrrah, as I think so thou
1485Wilt be shortly, come, sir Arthur.
Exit all but Flowerdale.
Flow. A plague go with you for a karsie rascall:
This Devonshire man I think is made all of Pork,
His hands made onely for to heave up packs:
1490His heart as fat and big as his face,
As differing far from all brave gallant minds,
As I to serve the Hoggs, and drink with Hindes,
As I am very near now: well what remedie,
When money, means, and friends, do grow so small,
1495Then farewell life, and there's an end of all.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Father, Luce, like a Dutch Frow, Civet,
and his wife mistresse Frances.