The London Prodigal

FATHER. Brother, from Venice, being thus disguised, I come to prove the humours of my son. How hath he borne himself since my departure, I leaving you his patron and his guide?

LANCELOT. O, about my daughters? well, I will go forward. Here’s two of them, God save them: but the third, O she’s a stranger in her course of life. She hath refused you, Maste...

OLIVER. Press me? I deuve ye, press scoundrels, and thy messels: Press me! chee scorns thee, yfaith: For seest thee, here’s a worshipful knight knows cham not to be pressed by t...

WEATHERCOCK. Aye, by the matkins, good Sir Lancelot, I saw him the other day hold up the bucklers, Like an Hercules. Yfaith, God a mercy, lad, I like thee well.

ARTHUR. I am a soldier, and a gentleman, Knows what belongs to war, what to a lady: What man offends me, that my sword shall right: What woman loves me, I am her faithful knight.

FATHER. To you and yours my master wisheth health, But unto you, sir, this, and this he sends: There is the length, sir, of his rapier, And in that paper shall you know his mind.

CIVET. By my truth, this is good luck, I thank God for this. In good sooth, I have even my heart’s desire: sister Delia, now I may boldly call you so, for your father hath frank...

FLOWERDALE. Sirrah Kit, tarry thou there, I have spied Sir Lancelot, and old Weathercock coming this way; they are hard at hand. I will by no means be spoken withal.

OLIVER. Cham assured thick be the place, that the scoundrel appointed to meet me: if a come, zo: if a come not, zo. And che war avise, he should make a coystrell an us, ched ves...

LANCELOT. Son Civet, daughter Frances, bear with me, You see how I am pressed down with inward grief, About that luckless girl, your sister Lucy. But tis fallen out with me, As...

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 p...

ARTICHOKE. Aye, but if good luck had not served, she had not been here now: filching Flowerdale had like to peppered us; but for Master Oliver, we had been robbed.

FLOWERDALE. On goes he that knows no end of his journey. I have passed the very utmost bounds of shifting. I have no course now but to hang myself: I have lived since yesterday...