A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 72

d.i.c.k. Why, sure, Prodigality, it can be no other, But he is returned to Fortune his mother.

PROD. Thinkest thou so?

Thou, Fortune, hearest thou? by fair means, I advise thee, Restore my Money to me again: deal plainly and wisely; Or by this sharp-edged sword, shalt see me play a proud part, For I will have him again, in spite of thy heart.

VAN. Whom have we there, that keepeth such a coil.

PROD. Even he that will not put up such a foil.

VAN. What's the matter?

PROD. Vanity, to that dame thy mistress commend me, Tell her--tell her, it doth not a little offend me, To have my money in such great despite, Taken so from me without any right.

What though it were once her own proper gift?

Yet given, 'tis mine own, there is no other shift.

Therefore charge her, in the name of Prodigality, That he be restor'd to me incontinently, Lest she repent it--

VAN. These be sore and cruel threat'nings, marry.

Is your haste so great, that by no means you may tarry?

PROD. I will not tarry, and therefore make haste.

VAN. Soft, sir, a little, there is no time pa.s.s'd.

You may tarry, you must tarry, for aught as I know: Nay, then you shall tarry, whether you will or no.

[_Exit_.

DICER. 'Zwounds, sir, he mocks you.

PROD. Gibe not with me, you wh.o.r.eson rascal slave!

For money I come, and money will I have.

Sirrah Vanity, Vanity! What, Vanity!

Speak and be hang'd, Vanity! What, will't not be?

DICER. What a prodigious knave, what a slave is this? [_Aside_.

PROD. Fortune, fine Fortune, you minion, if ye be wise, Bethink ye betimes, take better advice: Restore unto me my money quietly, Else look for wars: Vanity, Fortune, Vanity!

DICER. Sir, you see it booteth not.

PROD. It is but my ill-luck.

Now the devil and his dam give them both suck!

What may we do? what counsel giv'st thou, d.i.c.k?

DICER. Marry, sir, be rul'd by me; I'll show you a trick, How you may have him quickly.

PROD. As how?

DICER. Scale the walls: in at the window; by force fet him.

PROD. None better, in faith; fetch a ladder, and I will set him.

Fortune, thou injurious dame, thou shalt not by this villany Have cause to triumph over Prodigality.

Why speak'st thou not? why speak'st thou not, I say?

Thy silence doth but breed thine own hurt and decay.

DICER. Here is a ladder.

PROD. Set it to.

[_Here_ PRODIGALITY _scaleth_; FORTUNE _claps a halter about his neck; he breaketh the halter, and falls_.

PROD. 'Swounds! help, d.i.c.k: help quickly, or I am chok'd!

DICER. G.o.d-a-mercy, good halter, or else you had been yok'd!

PROD. O thou vile, ill-favoured, crow-trodden, pye-pecked ront!

Thou abominable, blind foul-filth,[400] is this thy wont: First, maliciously to spoil men of their good, And then by subtle sleights thus to seek their blood?

I abhor thee--I defy thee, wheresoever I go; I do proclaim myself thy mortal foe.

[_Enter_ TOM TOSS.][401]

TOM TOSS. News, Prodigality, news!

DICER. Good, and G.o.d will?

PROD. What news, Tom?

TOSS. I have met with Money.

PROD. Where?

TOSS. Marry, sir, he is going into a strange country With an old chuff, called Tenacity.

PROD. Tenacity? is that tinker's budget so full of audacity?

TOSS. 'Tis true.

PROD. May we not overtake him?

TOSS. Yes, easily with good horses.

PROD. Let's go then, for G.o.d's sake; we'll catch him in a trap.

DICER _and_ TOSS. Go; we will go with you, whatever shall hap.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE V.