SCENE II. London. The street before young

Flowerdale’s house.

[Enter young Flowerdale and his father, with foils in

their hands.]

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.

FATHER.

I’ll warrant you; go, get you in.

[Enter Lancelot and Weathercock.]

LANCELOT.

Now, my honest friend, thou doest belong to Master

Flowerdale.

FATHER.

I do, sir.

LANCELOT.

Is he within, my good fellow?

FATHER.

No, sir, he is not within.

LANCELOT.

I prithee, if he be within, let my speak with him.

FATHER.

Sir, to tell you true, my master is within, but indeed

would not be spoke withal: there be some terms that

stands upon his reputation, therefore he will not admit

any conference till he hath shook them off.

LANCELOT.

I prithee tell him his very good friend, Sir Lancelot

Spurcock, entreats to speak with him.

FATHER.

By my troth, sir, if you come to take up the matter

between my master and the Devonshire man, you do

not but beguile your hopes, and lose your labour.

LANCELOT.

Honest friend, I have not any such thing to him; I come

to speak with him about other matters.

FATHER.

For my master, sir, hath set down his resolution, either

to redeem his honour, or leave his life behind him.

LANCELOT.

My friend, I do not know any quarrel touching thy

master or any other person: my business is of a different

nature to him, and I prithee so tell him.

FATHER.

For howsoever the Devonshire man is, my master’s mind

is bloody: that’s a round o,

And therefore, sir, entreat is but vain:

LANCELOT.

I have no such thing to him, I tell thee once again.

FATHER.

I will then so signify to him.

[Exit Father.]

LANCELOT.

Aye, sirrah, I see this matter is hotly carried,

But I’ll labour to dissuade him from it.—

[Enter Flowerdale.]

Good morrow, Master Flowerdale.

FLOWERDALE.

Good morrow, good Sir Lancelot; good morrow,

Master Weathercock. By my troth, gentlemen, I have

been a reading over Nick Matchivill; I find him good

to be known, not to be followed: a pestilent humane

fellow. I have made certain annotations of him such

as they be.—And how ist Sir Lancelot? ha? how ist?

A mad world, men cannot live quiet in it.

LANCELOT.

Master Flowerdale, I do understand there is

Some jar between the Devonshire man and you.

FATHER.

They, sir? they are good friends as can be.

FLOWERDALE.

Who? Master Oliver and I? as good friends as can be.

LANCELOT.

It is a kind of safety in you to deny it, and a generous

silence, which too few are indued withal: But, sir, such

a thing I hear, and I could wish it otherwise.

FLOWERDALE.

No such thing, Sir Lancelot, a my reputation, as I am an

honest man.

LANCELOT.

Now I do believe you, then, if you do

Engage your reputation there is none.

FLOWERDALE.

Nay, I do not engage my reputation there is not. You

shall not bind me to any condition of hardness: but if

there be anything between us, then there is; if there be

not, then there is not: be or be not, all is one.

LANCELOT.

I do perceive by this, that there is something between

you, and I am very sorry for it.

FLOWERDALE.

You may be deceived, Sir Lancelot. The Italian hath a

pretty paying, Questo—I have forgot it too, tis out of my

head, but in my translation, ift hold, thus: If thou hast a

friend, keep him; if a foe, trip him.

LANCELOT.

Come, I do see by this there is somewhat between you,

and, before God, I could wish it other wise.

FLOWERDALE.

Well what is between us can hardly be altered. Sir

Lancelot, I am to ride forth tomorrow. That way which I

must ride, no man must deny me the sun; I would not by

any particular man be denied common and general passage.

If any one saith, Flowerdale, thou passest not this way: my

answer is, I must either on or return, but return is not my

word, I must on: if I cannot, then, make my way, nature

hath done the last for me, and there’s the fine.

LANCELOT.

Master Flowerdale, every man hath one tongue, and two

ears: nature, in her building, is a most curious work-master.

FLOWERDALE.

That is as much as to say, a man should hear more than he

should speak.

LANCELOT.

You say true, and indeed I have heard more than at this

time I will speak.

FLOWERDALE.

You say well.

LANCELOT.

Slanders are more common than truths, Master Flowerdale:

but proof is the rule for both.

FLOWERDALE.

You say true; what do you call him hath it there in his

third canton.

LANCELOT.

I have heard you have been wild: I have believed it.

FLOWERDALE.

Twas fit, twas necessary.

LANCELOT.

But I have seen somewhat of late in you, that hath

confirmed in my an opinion of goodness toward you.

FLOWERDALE.

Yfaith, sir, I am sure I never did you harm: some good

I have done, either to you or yours, I am sure you know

not; neither is it my will you should.

LANCELOT.

Aye, your will, sir.

FLOWERDALE.

Aye, my will, sir? sfoot, do you know ought of my will?

Begod, and you do, sir, I am abused.

LANCELOT.

Go, Master Flowerdale; what I know, I know: and know

you thus much out of my knowledge, that I truly love you.

For my daughter, she’s yours. And if you like a marriage

better than a brawl, all quirks of reputation set aside, go

with me presently: And where you should fight a bloody

battle, you shall be married to a lovely lady.

FLOWERDALE.

Nay but, Sir Lancelot—

LANCELOT.

If you will not embrace my offer, yet assure your self thus

much, I will have order to hinder your encounter.

FLOWERDALE.

Nay, but hear me, Sir Lancelot.

LANCELOT.

Nay, stand not you upon imputative honour. Tis merely

unsound, unprofitable, and idle inferences: your business

is to wed my daughter, therefore give me your present word

to do it. I’ll go and provide the maid, therefore give me your

present resolution, either now or never.

FLOWERDALE.

Will you so put me to it?

LANCELOT.

Aye, afore God, either take me now, or take me never. Else

what I thought should be our match, shall be our parting; so

fare you well forever.

FLOWERDALE.

Stay: fall out what may fall, my love is above all: I will come.

LANCELOT.

I expect you, and so fare you well.

[Exit Sir Lancelot.]

FATHER.

Now, sir, how shall we do for wedding apparel?

FLOWERDALE.

By the mass, that’s true: now help, Kit;

The marriage ended, we’ll make amends for all.

FATHER.

Well, no more, prepare you for your bride,

We will not want for clothes, what so ere betide.

FLOWERDALE.

And thou shalt see, when once I have my dower,

In mirth we’ll spend full many a merry hour:

As for this wench I not regard a pin,

It is her gold must bring my pleasures in.

[Exit.]

FATHER.

Ist possible, he hath his second living,

Forsaking God, himself to the devil giving?

But that I knew his mother firm and chaste,

My heart would say my head she had disgraced:

Else would I swear he never was my son,

But her fair mind so foul a deed did shun.

[Enter Uncle.]

UNCLE.

How now, brother, how do you find your son?

FATHER.

O brother, heedless as a libertine,

Even grown a master in the school of vice,

One that doth nothing but invent deceit:

For all the day he humours up and down,

How he the next day might deceive his friend.

He thinks of nothing but the present time:

For one groat ready down, he’ll pay a shilling,

But then the lender must needs stay for it.

When I was young, I had the scope of youth,

Both wild, and wanton, careless and desperate:

But such made strains as he’s possessed withal,

I thought it wonder for to dream upon.

UNCLE.

I told you so, but you would not believe it.

FATHER.

Well, I have found it, but one thing comforts me:

Brother, tomorrow he’s to be married

To beauteous Lucy, Sir Lancelot Spurcock’s daughter.

UNCLE.

Ist possible?

FATHER.

Tis true, and thus I mean to curb him.

This day, brother, I will you shall arrest him:

If any thing will tame him, it must be that,

For he is ranked in mischief, chained to a life,

That will increase his shame, and kill his wife.

UNCLE.

What, arrest him on his wedding day?

That were unchristian, and an unhumane part:

How many couple even for that very day

Hath purchased 7 year’s sorrow afterward?

Forbear him then today, do it tomorrow,

And this day mingle not his joy with sorrow.

FATHER.

Brother, I’ll have it done this very day,

And in the view of all, as he comes from Church:

Do but observe the course that he will take.

Upon my life he will forswear the debt:

And for we’ll have the sum shall not be slight,

Say that he owes you near three thousand pound:

Good brother, let it be done immediately.

UNCLE.

Well, seeing you will have it so,

Brother, I’ll do it, and straight provide the Sheriff.

FATHER.

So, brother, by this means shall we perceive

What Sir Lancelot in this pinch will do:

And how his wife doth stand affected to him—

Her love will then be tried to the uttermost—

And all the rest of them. Brother, what I will do,

Shall harm him much, and much avail him too.

[Exit.]

The London Prodigal · 第 2 / 4 章