The London Prodigal, Shakespeare Apocrypha E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Seltzer Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 86

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Elizabethan play, sometimes attributed in part to Shakespeare. According to Wikipedia: "William Shakespeare (baptised 26 April 1564 – died 23 April 1616) was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "The Bard"). His surviving works consist of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language, and are performed more often than those of any other playwright."

Leseprobe

THE LONDON PRODIGAL

published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA

established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books

Other plays partially attributed to William Shakespeare:

Cromwell

Edward III

Faire Em

Fairy Tale in Two Acts

Merry Devil

Puritaine Widdow

Sir John Oldcastle

Sir Thomas More

Tragedy of Locrine

Two Noble Kinsmen

All's One

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As it was played by the King's Majesties servants.

The Actor's Names in the London Prodigal.

M. FLOWERDALE (Senior), a Merchant trading at Venice.

MATTH. FLOWERDALE, his Prodigal Son.

M. FLOWERDALE (Junior), Brother to the Merchant.

SIR LANCELOT SPURCOCK, of Lewsome in Kent.

FRANCES, LUCY, DELIA, Daughters to Sir Lancelot Spurcock.

DAFFODIL, ARTICHOKE, Servants to Sir Lancelot Spurcock.

SIR ARTHUR GREENSHOOD, a Commander, in love with Lucy.

OLIVER, a Devonshire Clothier, in love with Lucy.

WEATHERCOCK, a Parasite to Sir Lancelot Spurcock.

TOM CIVET, in love with Frances.

DICK and RALPH, two cheating Gamesters.

RUFFIAN, a Pander to Mistress Apricot a Bawd.

SHERIFF and OFFICERS.

A CITIZEN and his wife.

Drawers.

The Scene:  London (and the Parts adjacent).

ACT I.

SCENE I.  London.  A room in Flowerdale Junior's house.

[Enter old Flowerdale and his brother.]

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?

UNCLE.

Ifaith, brother, so, as you will grieve to hear,

And I almost ashamed to report it.

FATHER.

Why, how ist, brother? what, doth he spend beyond

the allowance I left him?

UNCLE.

How! beyond that? and far more:  why, your exhibition

is nothing.  He hath spent that, and since hath borrowed;

protested with oaths, alleged kindred to wring money

from me,--by the love I bore his father, by the fortunes

might fall upon himself, to furnish his wants:  that done,

I have had since his bond, his friend and friend's bond.

Although I know that he spends is yours; yet it grieves

me to see the unbridled wildness that reins over him.

FATHER.

Brother, what is the manner of his life? how is the name

of his offences?  If they do not relish altogether of

damnation, his youth may privilege his wantonness:  I

myself ran an unbridled course till thirty, nay, almost

till forty;--well, you see how I am:  for vice, once looked

into with the eyes of discretion, and well-balanced with

the weights of reason, the course past seems so abominable,

that the Landlord of himself, which is the heart of the body,

will rather entomb himself in the earth, or seek a new

Tenant to remain in him:--which once settled, how much

better are they that in their youth have known all these

vices, and left it, than those that knew little, and in their

age runs into it?  Believe me, brother, they that die most

virtuous hath in their youth lived most vicious, and none

knows the danger of the fire more than he that falls into

it.  But say, how is the course of his life? let's hear his

particulars.

UNCLE.

Why, I'll tell you, brother; he is a continual swearer, and

a breaker of his oaths, which is bad.

FATHER.

I grant indeed to swear is bad, but not in keeping those

oaths is better:  for who will set by a bad thing?  Nay, by

my faith, I hold this rather a virtue than a vice.  Well, I pray,

proceed.

UNCLE.

He is a mighty brawler, and comes commonly by the worst.

FATHER.

By my faith, this is none of the worst neither, for if he brawl

and be beaten for it, it will in time make him shun it:  For

what brings man or child more to virtue than correction?

What reigns over him else?

UNCLE.

He is a great drinker, and one that will forget himself.

FATHER.

O best of all! vice should be forgotten; let him drink on,

so he drink not churches.  Nay, and this be the worst, I

hold it rather a happiness in him, than any iniquity.  Hath

he any more attendants?

UNCLE.

Brother, he is one that will borrow of any man.

FATHER.

Why, you see, so doth the sea:  it borrows of all the small

currents in the world, to increase himself.

UNCLE.

Aye, but the sea pales it again, and so will never your son.

FATHER.

No more would the sea neither, if it were as dry as my son.

UNCLE.

Then, brother, I see you rather like these vices in your son,

than any way condemn them.

FATHER.

Nay, mistake me not, brother, for tho I slur them over now,

as things slight and nothing, his crimes being in the bud, it

would gall my heart, they should ever reign in him.

FLOWERDALE.

Ho! who's within? ho!

[Flowerdale knocks within.]

UNCLE.

That's your son, he is come to borrow more money.

FATHER.

For Godsake give it out I am dead; see how he'll take it.

Say I have brought you news from his father.  I have here

drawn a formal will, as it were from my self, which I'll

deliver him.

UNCLE.

Go to, brother, no more:  I will.

FLOWERDALE.

[Within.]  Uncle, where are you, Uncle?

UNCLE.

Let my cousin in there.

FATHER.

I am a sailor come from Venice, and my name is Christopher.

[Enter Flowerdale.]

FLOWERDALE.

By the Lord, in truth, Uncle--

UNCLE.

In truth would a served, cousin, without the Lord.

FLOWERDALE.

By your leave, Uncle, the Lord is the Lord of truth.  A couple

of rascals at the gate set upon me for my purse.

UNCLE.

You never come, but you bring a brawl in your mouth.

FLOWERDALE.

By my truth, Uncle, you must needs lend me ten pound.

UNCLE.

Give my cousin some small beer here.

FLOWERDALE.

Nay, look you, you turn it to a jest now:  by this light, I

should ride to Croyden fair, to meet Sir Lancelot Spurcock.

I should have his daughter Lucy, and for scurvy ten pound,

a man shall lose nine hundred three-score and odd pounds,

and a daily friend beside.  By this hand, Uncle, tis true.

UNCLE.

Why, any thing is true for ought I know.

FLOWERDALE.

To see now! why, you shall have my bond, Uncle, or Tom

White's, James Brock's, or Nick Hall's:  as good rapier and

dagger men, as any be in England.  Let's be damned if we do

not pay you:  the worst of us all will not damn ourselves for

ten pound.  A pox of ten pound!

UNCLE.

Cousin, this is not the first time I have believed you.

FLOWERDALE.

Why, trust me now, you know not what may fall.  If one

thing were but true, I would not greatly care, I should not

need ten pound, but when a man cannot be believed,--there's

it.

UNCLE.

Why, what is it, cousin?

FLOWERDALE.

Marry, this, Uncle:  can you tell me if the Katern-hue be

come home or no?

UNCLE.

Aye, marry, ist.

FLOWERDALE.

By God I thank you for that news.  What, ist in the pool, can

you tell?

UNCLE.

It is; what of that?

FLOWERDALE.

What? why then I have six pieces of velvet sent me; I'll give

you a piece, Uncle:  for thus said the letter,--a piece of

Ashcolour, a three piled black, a colour de roi, a crimson, a

sad green, and a purple:  yes, yfaith.

UNCLE.

From whom should you receive this?

FLOWERDALE.

From who? why, from my father; with commendations to you,

Uncle, and thus he writes:  I know, said he, thou hast much

troubled thy kind Uncle, whom God-willing at my return I

will see amply satisfied.  Amply, I remember was the very word,

so God help me.

UNCLE.

Have you the letter here?

FLOWERDALE.

Yes, I have the letter here, here is the letter:  no, yes, no;--let me

see, what breeches wore I a Saturday? let me see:  a Tuesday my

Salamanca; a Wednesday my peach colour Satin; a Thursday my

Vellour; a Friday my Salamanca again; a Saturday--let me see--a

Saturday,--for in those breeches I wore a Saturday is the letter:  O,

my riding breeches, Uncle, those that you thought been velvet; in

those very breeches is the letter.

UNCLE.

When should it be dated?

FLOWERDALE.

Marry, Decimo tertio septembris--no, no--decimo tertio Octobris;

Aye, Octobris, so it is.

UNCLE.

Decimo tertio Octobris! and here receive I a letter that your father

died in June:  how say you, Kester?

FATHER.

Yes, truly, sir, your father is dead, these hands of mine holp to

wind him.

FLOWERDALE.

Dead?

FATHER.

Aye, sir, dead.

FLOWERDALE.

Sblood, how should my father come dead?

FATHER.

Yfaith, sir, according to the old Proverb:

The child was born and cried, became man,

After fell sick, and died.

UNCLE.

Nay, cousin, do not take it so heavily.

FLOWERDALE.

Nay, I cannot weep you extempore:  marry, some

two or three days hence, I shall weep without any

stintance.  But I hope he died in good memory.

FATHER.

Very well, sir, and set down every thing in good

order; and the Katherine and Hue you talked of, I

came over in:  and I saw all the bills of lading, and

the velvet that you talked of, there is no such aboard.

FLOWERDALE.

By God, I assure you, then, there is knavery abroad.

FATHER.

I'll be sworn of that:  there's knavery abroad,

Although there were never a piece of velvet in Venice.

FLOWERDALE.

I hope he died in good estate.

FATHER.

To the report of the world he did, and made his will,

Of which I am an unworthy bearer.

FLOWERDALE.

His will! have you his will?

FATHER.

Yes, sir, and in the presence of your Uncle

I was willed to deliver it.

UNCLE.

I hope, cousin, now God hath blessed you with wealth,

you will not be unmindful of me.

FLOWERDALE.

I'll do reason, Uncle, yet, yfaith, I take the denial of

this ten pound very hardly.

UNCLE.

Nay, I denied you not.

FLOWERDALE.

By God, you denied me directly.

UNCLE.

I'll be judged by this good fellow.

FATHER.

Not directly, sir.

FLOWERDALE.

Why, he said he would lend me none, and that had wont to be a

direct denial, if the old phrase hold.  Well, Uncle, come, we'll

fall to the Legacies:  (reads)  'In the name of God, Amen.  Item,

I bequeath to my brother Flowerdale three hundred pounds, to pay