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  • Title: The London Prodigal (Folio 3, 1664)

  • Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Authors: Anonymous, William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The London Prodigal (Folio 3, 1664)

    Enter Daffidill.
    545Daff. Mistris, still froward?
    No kind looks unto your Daffodill, now by the gods.
    Luce. Away you foolish knave, let my hand go.
    Daff. There is your hand, but this shall go with me:
    My heart is thine, this is my true loves fee.
    550Luce. I'le have your coat stript o're your ears for this,
    You sawcy rascall.
    Enter Lancelot and Weathercock.
    Lance. How now maid, what is the news with you?
    Luce. Your man is something sawcie.
    Exit Luce.
    555Lance. Go too, sirrha, I'le talk with you anon.
    Daff. Sir, I am a man to be talked withall,
    I am no horse I tro:
    I Know my strength, then no more then so.
    Wea. A by the matkins, good Sir Lancelot, I saw him
    560the other day hold up the Bucklers, like an Hercules,
    Ifaith God-a-mercy Lad, I like thee well.
    Lan. I, I, like him well, go sirrha, fetch me a cup of wine,
    That ere I part with Master Weathercock,
    We may drink down our farewell in French wine.
    565Wea. I thank you, sir, I thank you, friendly Knight,
    I'le come and visit you, by the mouse-foot I will:
    In the mean time, take heed of cutting Flowerdale,
    He is a desperate dick I warrant you,
    Lance.He is, he is: fill Daffidill, fill me some wine,
    570Ha, what wears he on his arme?
    My daughter Luces bracelet, I 'tis the same:
    Ha to you Master Weathercock.
    Wea. I thank you, sir: Here Daffidill, an honest fel-
    low and a tall thou art: well: I'le take my leave, good
    575night, and hope to have you and all your daughters at my
    poor house, in good sooth I must.
    Lance. Thanks Master Weathercock, I shall be bold
    to trouble you be sure.
    Wea. And welcome, heartily farewell.
    Exit Weath.
    580Lance. Sirrha, I saw my daughters wrong, and
    withall her Bracelet on your arme; off with it: and with
    it my livery too: have I care to see my daughter matched
    with men of Worship, and are you grown so bold? go,
    sirrha, from my house, or I'le whip you hence.
    585Daff. I'le not be whipt, sir, there's your Livery.
    This is a Servingmans reward, what care I,
    I have means to trust to: I scorn service I.
    Exit Daffidill.
    Lance. I a lusty knave, but I must let him go,
    590Our servants must be taught, what they should know.