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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    Not Peer Reviewed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 Sir Lancelot and Oliver.
    Oli. And tyt trust to it, so then.
    620Lance. Assure your self,
    You shall be married with all speed we may:
    One day shall serve for Frances and for Luce,
    Oli. Why che wood vain know the time, for provi-
    ding Wedding Rayments.
    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-(Bar,
    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 (nothing.
    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.
    700Enter 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 (son,
    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 (Daffidill.
    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, all, good man, he hath given you all.
    Lan. Three ships now in the Straits, & homeward bound,
    Two Lordships of two hundred pound a year:
    760The one in Wales, the other in Gloster-shire:
    Debts and accounts are thirty thousand pound,
    Plate, Money, Jewels, sixteen thousand more,
    Two housen furnished well in Cole-man street:
    Beside whatsoever his Uncle leaves to him,
    765Being of great demeans and wealth at Peckham.
    Wea. How like you this good Knight? how like you this
    ?
    Lan. I have done him wrong, but now I'le make amends,
    The Devon-shire man shall whistle for a wife,
    He marry Luce, Luce shall be Flowerdale's.
    770Wea. Why that is friendly said, let's ride to London
    and prevent their match, by promising your daughter to
    that lovely Lad.
    Lance. We'll ride to London, or it shall not need,
    We'll crosse to Dedford-strand, and take a boat:
    775Where be these knaves? what Artichoak, what Fop?
    Enter Artichoak.
    Ar. Here be the very knaves, but not the merry knaves.
    Lan. Here take my Cloak, I'le have a walk to Dedford.
    Arti. Sir, we have be been scouring of our Swords
    780and Bucklers for your defence.
    Lance. Defence me no defence, let your swords rust,
    I'le have no fighting: I, let blows alone, bid Delia see
    all things be in readinesse against the wedding, we'll have
    two at once, and that will save charges, Master Weather-
    785cock. Arti. Well we will do it sir.Exeunt.
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