The London Prodigal - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
FLOWERDALE.
How now? fie, sit in the open room? now, good Sir Lancelot, & my kind friend wors.h.i.+pful Master Weatherc.o.c.k! What, at your pint? a quart for shame.
LANCELOT.
Nay, Royster, by your leave we will away.
FLOWERDALE.
Come, give's some Music, we'll go dance. Begone, Sir Lancelot? what, and fair day too?
LUCY.
Twere foully done, to dance within the fair.
FLOWERDALE.
Nay, if you say so, fairest of all fairs, then I'll not dance.
A pox upon my tailor, he hath spoiled me a peach colour satin s.h.i.+rt, cut upon cloth of silver, but if ever the rascal serve me such another trick, I'll give him leave, yfaith, to put me in the calendar of fools: and you, and you, Sir Lancelot and Master Weatherc.o.c.k. My goldsmith too, on tother side--I bespoke thee, Lucy, a carkenet of gold, and thought thou shouldst a had it for a fairing, and the rogue puts me in rearages for Orient Pearl: but thou shalt have it by Sunday night, wench.
[Enter the Drawer.]
DRAWER.
Sir, here is one hath sent you a pottle of rennish wine, brewed with rosewater.
FLOWERDALE.
To me?
DRAWER.
No, sir, to the knight; and desires his more acquaintance.
LANCELOT.
To me? what's he that proves so kind?
DAFFODIL.
I have a trick to know his name, sir. He hath a month's mind here to mistress Frances, his name is Master Civet.
LANCELOT.
Call him in, Daffodil.
FLOWERDALE.
O I know him, sir, he is a fool, but reasonable rich; his father was one of these lease-mongers, these corn-mongers, these money-mongers, but he never had the wit to be a wh.o.r.e-monger.
[Enter Master Civet.]
LANCELOT.
I promise you, sir, you are at too much charge.
CIVET.
The charge is small charge, sir; I thank G.o.d my father left me wherewithal: if it please you, sir, I have a great mind to this gentlewoman here, in the way of marriage.
LANCELOT.
I thank you, sir: please you come to Lewsome, To my poor house, you shall be kindly welcome: I knew your father, he was a wary husband.-- To pale here, Drawer.
DRAWER.
All is paid, sir: this gentleman hath paid all.
LANCELOT.
Yfaith, you do us wrong, But we shall live to make amends ere long: Master Flowerdale, is that your man?
FLOWERDALE.
Yes, faith, a good old knave.
LANCELOT.
Nay, then I think You will turn wise, now you take such a servant: Come, you'll ride with us to Lewsome; let's away.
Tis scarce two hours to the end of day.
[Exit Omnes.]
ACT II.
SCENE I. A road near Sir Lancelot Spurc.o.c.k's house, in Kent.
[Enter Sir Arthur Greenshood, Oliver, Lieutenant and Soldiers.]
ARTHUR.
Lieutenant, lead your soldiers to the s.h.i.+ps, There let them have their coats, at their arrival They shall have pay: farewell, look to your charge.
SOLDIER.
Aye, we are now sent away, and cannot so much as speak with our friends.
OLIVER.
No, man; what, ere you used a zutch a fas.h.i.+on, thick you cannot take your leave of your vrens?
ARTHUR.
Fellow, no more. Lieutenant, lead them off.
SOLDIER.
Well, if I have not my pay and my clothes, I'll venture a running away tho I hang for't.
ARTHUR.
Away, sirrah, charm your tongue.
[Exit Soldiers.]
OLIVER.
Been you a presser, sir?
ARTHUR.
I am a commander, sir, under the King.
