The London Prodigal – Act Two, Scene Two

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DAFFODIL
Mistress, still froward?  No kind looks
Unto your Daffodil?  Now, by the gods—

LUCE
Away, you foolish knave, let my hand go!

DAFFODIL
There is your hand, but this shall go with me.
My heart is thine, this is my true love’s fee.

LUCE
I’ll have your coat stripped o’er your ears for this,
You saucy rascal!

Enter LANCELOT and WEATHERCOCK.

 LANCELOT
How now, maid, what is the news with you?

LUCE
Your man is something saucy.                                                                         [Exit.

LANCELOT
Go to, sirrah.  I’ll talk with you anon.

DAFFODIL
Sir, I am a man to be talked withal.
I am no horse, I trow.
I know my strength, then no more than so.

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

LANCELOT
Aye, I like him well.  Go, sirrah, fetch me a cup of wine,
That ere I part with Master Weathercock,
We may drink down our farewell in French wine.

WEATHERCOCK
I thank you, sir, I thank you, friendly knight.
I’ll come and visit you, by the mouse-foot I will.
In the meantime, take heed of cutting Flowerdale.
He is a desperate dick, I warrant you.

LANCELOT
He is, he is.  Fill, Daffodil, fill me some wine.  Ha, what wears he on his arm?  My daughter Luce’s bracelet.  Aye, ‘tis the same.  Ha to you, Master Weathercock.

WEATHERCOCK
I thank you, sir.  Here, Daffodil, an honest fellow and a tell thou art.  Well, I’ll take my leave, good knight, and hope to have you and all your daughters at my poor house.  I good sooth, I must.

LANCELOT
Thanks, master Weathercock.  I shall be bold to trouble you, be sure.

WEATHERCOCK
And welcome heartily.  Farewell.                                                                      [Exit.

LANCELOT
Sirrah, I saw my daughter’s wrong, and withal her bracelet on your arm.  Off with it, and with it my livery too.  Have I care to see my daughter matched with men of worship, and are you grown so bold?  Go, sirrah, from my house, or I’ll whip you hence.

DAFFODIL
I’ll not be whipped, sir.  There’s your livery.
This is a servingman’s reward.  What care I?
I have means to trust to.  I scorn service, I.                                                      [Exit.

LANCELOT
Aye, a lusty knave, but I must let him go.
Our servants much be taught what they should know.                                    [Exit.

Proceed to the next scene

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