• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Young Flowerdale is sure a prisoner.

WEATHERCOCK.

Sure, nothing more sure.

LANCELOT.

And yet perhaps his Uncle hath released him.

WEATHERCOCK.

It may be very like, no doubt he hath.

LANCELOT.

Well, if he be in prison, I'll have warrants

To 'tach my daughter till the law be tried,

For I will sue him upon cozenage.

WEATHERCOCK.

Marry, may you, and overthrow him too.

LANCELOT.

Nay, that's not so, I may chance be soft,

And sentence past with him.

WEATHERCOCK.

Believe me, so he may, therefore take heed.

LANCELOT.

Well, howsoever, yet I will have warrants:

In prison, or at liberty, all's one:

You will help to serve them, Master Weathercock?

[Exit Omnes.]

SCENE II. A street in London.

[Enter Flowerdale.]

FLOWERDALE.

A plague of the devil! the devil take the dice! The dice, and the devil, and his dam go together. Of all my hundred golden angels, I have not left me one denier: A pox of come a five, what shall I do? I can borrow no more of my credit: there's not any of my acquaintance, man, nor boy, but I have borrowed more or less off: I would I knew where to take a good purse, and go clear away; by this light, I'll venture for it. God's lid, my sister Delia! I'll rob her, by this hand.

[Enter Delia, and Artichoke.]

DELIA.

I prithee, Artichoke, go not so fast:

The weather is hot, and I am something weary.

ARTICHOKE.

Nay, I warrant you, mistress Delia, I'll not tire you with leading; we'll go a extreme moderate pace.

FLOWERDALE.

Stand, deliver your purse.

ARTICHOKE.

O lord, thieves, thieves!

[Exit Artichoke.]

FLOWERDALE.

Come, come, your purse, lady, your purse.

DELIA.

That voice I have heard often before this time.

What, brother Flowerdale become a thief?

FLOWERDALE.

Aye, a plague on't, I thank your father. But, sister, come,

your money, come! What,

The world must find me, I am borne to live,

Tis not a sin to steal, when none will give.

DELIA.

O God, is all grace banished from they heart?

Think of the shame that doth attend this fact.

FLOWERDALE.

Shame me no shame; come, give me your purse.

I'll bind you, sister, least I fair the worse.

DELIA.

No, bind me not! hold, there is all I have,

And would that money would redeem thy shame.

[Enter Oliver, Sir Arthur, and Artichoke.]

ARTICHOKE.

Thieves, thieves, thieves!

OLIVER.

Thieves? where, man? why, how now mistress Delia?

Ha you a liked to bin a robbed?

DELIA.

No, Master Oliver; tis Master Flowerdale, he did but jest with me.

OLIVER.

How, Flowerdale, that scoundrel? sirrah, you meeten us well: vang thee that.

FLOWERDALE.

Well, sir, I'll not meddle with you, because I have a charge.

DELIA.

Here, brother Flowerdale, I'll lend you this same money.

FLOWERDALE.

I thank you, sister.

OLIVER.

I wad you were ysplit, and you let the mezell have a penny. But since you cannot keep it, chil keep it myself.

ARTHUR.

Tis pity to relieve him in this sort,

Who makes a triumphant life his daily sport.

DELIA.

Brother, you see how all men censure you,

Farewell, and I pray God amend your life.

OLIVER.

Come, chill bring you along, and you safe enough from twenty such scoundrels as thick a one is. Farewell and be hanged, zirrah, as I think so thou wilt be shortly. Come, Sir Arthur.

[Exit all but Flowerdale.]

FLOWERDALE.

A plague go with you for a karsie rascal.

This Devonshire man, I think, is made all of pork,

His hands made only for to heave up packs:

His heart as fat and big as his face;

As differing far from all brave gallant minds

As I to serve the hogs, and drink with hinds,

As I am very near now. Well, what remedy?

When money, means, and friends do grow so small,

Then farewell life, and there's an end of all.

[Exit.]

SCENE III. Another street. Before Civet's house.

[Enter Father, Lucy like a Dutch Frau, Civet, and his wife mistress Frances.]

CIVET.

By my troth, god a mercy for this, good Christopher,

I thank thee for my maid, I like her very well. How

doest thou like her, Frances?

FRANCES.

In good sadness, Tom,