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Full speech
Peace, let them talk: Fools may have leave to prattle as they walk. Y aith and thy tongue trips trenchmore. Y faith I Like not shadows, bubbles, broth, I hate a light a love, as I hate death. Away you foolish knave, let my hand go. I'll have your coat stripped over your ears for this, You saucy rascal. Your man is something saucy. Sir, as I am a maid, I do affect you above any shuter that I have, although that soldiers scarce knows how to love. I neither doubt your valour, nor your love, but there be some that bares a soldiers form, that swears by him they never think upon, goes swaggering up and down from house to house, crying God pays: and. Yet these are great gentlemen soldiers. Both for your self, and for your form of life, If I may choose, isle be a soldiers wife. I 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 for ever. Never fear, she will not trouble you. Alas the day that ever I was born. Alas my friend, I know not what to do, My father and my friends, they have despised me: And I a wretched maid, thus cast away, Knows neither where to go, nor what to say. I thank you sir. What is your will with ? Do not persuade me, once to thought, Imagine yet, that he is worse then nought: Yet one lovers time, may all that ill undo, That all his former life, did run into Therefore kind sister do not disclose my estate, If ere his heart does turn, 'tis never too late. What is de matter, What be you younker? What been you younker, why do you not speak? Oh here God, so young and armine. Are you not a married man, vere been your vife? Here is all I have, take dis. Why speak you not, were be the r ? Did you use her well? Indeed that vas not scone. Yes me do. Stay one does call, I shall come by and by again. Where is the door, are we not passed it Artichoake? Oh heeres his Uncle, welcome gentlemen, welcome all, Such a cozoner gentlemen, a murderer too For any thing I know, my daughter is missing: Hath been looked for, cannot be found, a vild upon thee. Oh my life here, where will you would de man? What would de younker done? His vife, that is not good, that is not seen. Have me no, and or way do you have him, He tell me that he love me heartily. I am no trull, neither outlandish Frowe, Nor he, nor I shall to the prison go: Know you me now? nay never stand amazed. Father I know I have offended you, And though that duty wills me bend my knees To you in duty and obedience: Yet this ways do I turn, and to him yield My love, my duty and my humbleness. Oh M. , if too much grief Have not stopped up the orgens of your voice, Then speak to her that is thy faithful wife, Or does contempt of me, thus tie thy tongue: Turn not away, I Aethyope, No wanton Cressed, nor a changing Hello But rather one made wretched by thy lose. What turnest thou still from me? Oh then I guess thee wofulst among hapless men. Not trust him, by Hope's after bliss, I know no sorrow can be compared to his. I thank, you sister. He is my husband, & High heaven does know, With what unwillingness I went to Church, But you enforced me, you compelled me too it: The holy Churchman pronounced these words but now, I must not leave my husband in distress: Now I must comfort him, not go with you. You are three gross ooles, let me alone, I swear isle live with him in all moan. Yes, I am resolved. This way I turn, go you unto your feast, And I to weep, that am with grief oppressed. Oh M. Flowerdale, but hear me speak, Stay but a little while good M. Sheriff, If not for him, for my sake pity him: Good sir stop not your ears at my complaint, My voice grows weak, for women's words are faint. Impute his wildness sir, unto his youth, And think that now is the time he does repent: Alas, what good or gain can you receive, To imprison him that nothing hath to pay? And where nought is, the king does loose his endue, Oh pity him as God hall pity you. Say that your debts were paid, then is he free? Oh go not yet, good M. Flowerdale: Take my word for the debt, my word, my bound. Alas, I n ere ought nothing but I paid it, And I can work, alas he can do nothing: I have some friends perhaps will pity me, His chiefest friends do seek his misery. All that I can, or beg, get, or receive, Shall be for you: Oh do not turn away, Me thinks within a face so reverent, So well experienced in this tottering world, Should have some feeling of a maidens grief: For my sake, his father's, and your brother's sake, I for your souls sake that does hope for joy, Pity my state: do not two souls destroy. Pray hold your hands, give it him honest friend. Good sir for bear him. Delia, I thank you, I now must please her eyes, My sister Frances, neither fair nor wise. This adds joy to joy, High heaven be praised. This day you caused me on your curse to take him: Do not I pray my grieved soul oppress, God knows my heart does bleed at his distress. Oh do not curse him. Alas what shall I do? My name forsooth be called . Y S mistress very well. Sister, I see you know me, yet be secret: This borrowed shape, that I have tan upon me, Is but to keep my self, a space un known, Both from my father, and my n erst friends Until I see, how time will bring to pass, The desperate course, of master Flowerdale. Me shall do every ting about Dam head.
Plot summary
Plot — The London Prodigal
Old Flowerdale returns secretly from Venice and hears tales of his son’s prodigality. Wanting to think the best of his offspring, he tests the young man by posing as Christopher, a sailor bringing news of his own death and a will disinheriting his son. Under his new identity he lends his son money to enable him to pursue an advantageous marriage to Sir Lancelot’s daughter Luce, and enters his service to observe him at close quarters. Sir Lancelot is trying to get husbands for all three of his daughters, but Delia prefers a virgin life. For Luce, Sir Lancelot initially favours the wealthy bumpkin Oliver, and takes his part when Young Flowerdale challenges him to a duel. However, ‘Christopher’ forges a will which makes Flowerdale seem richer than Oliver, so Sir Lancelot changes his mind and persuades Flowerdale to go to his own wedding rather than keep his appointment to fight Oliver. It is to be a double wedding: another daughter, Frances, is marrying a merchant’s son. Flowerdale makes no secret of the fact that he intends to exploit Luce financially. Disappointed in him, Old Flowerdale arranges for his uncle to have him arrested for debt immediately after the wedding; apart from teaching the young man a lesson, it will also establish whether Luce genuinely loves him. When Sir Lancelot tries to shrug off the debt, the will is exposed as a fraud. Luce, who only married Flowerdale in obedience to her father, now insists on honouring her marital vows. Intending that Flowerdale should rot in beggary, Sir Lancelot disowns her. Her entreaties get Flowerdale released, but he too rejects her, so ‘Christopher’ gets her a job in Frances’s household, disguised as a Dutch chambermaid. Destitute and starving after squandering his money in gambling and dissolute living, Young Flowerdale is reduced to theft and begging: first he robs his sister- in-law Delia, then seeks people’s sympathy, and money, with a lie that his wife is dead. He finds that begging is a profitable trade, but the report of Luce’s death causes Sir Lancelot to seek his arrest on suspicion of murder. Luce reveals herself, Flowerdale repents, and most of the characters give Luce money and presents, but Sir Lancelot is not reconciled until ‘Christopher’ reveals who he really is. Though offered the choice of Sir Arthur and Oliver, Delia opts to remain unmarried, and everyone goes off for a celebratory feast.