A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 09
General
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 09
English drama
SIR RADERIC _and_ PRODIGO _at one corner of the stage_; RECORDER
_and_ AMORETTO _at the other: two_ PAGES _scouring of tobacco-pipes_.
SIR RADERIC.
Master Prodigo, Master Recorder hath told you law--your land is
forfeited; and for me not to take the forfeiture were to break the
Queen's law. For mark you, it's law to take the forfeiture; therefore
not to take[110] it is to break the Queen's law; and to break the
Queen's law is not to be a good subject, and I mean to be a good
subject. Besides, I am a justice of the peace; and, being justice of the
peace, I must do justice--that is, law--that is, to take the forfeiture,
especially having taken notice of it. Marry, Master Prodigo, here are a
few shillings over and besides the bargain.
PRODIGO.
Pox on your shillings! 'Sblood, a while ago, before he had me in the
lurch, who but my cousin Prodigo? You are welcome, my cousin Prodigo.
Take my cousin Prodigo's horse. A cup of wine for my cousin Prodigo.
Good faith, you shall sit here, good cousin Prodigo. A clean trencher
for my cousin Prodigo. Have a special care of my cousin Prodigo's
lodging. Now, Master Prodigo with a pox, and a few shillings for a
vantage. A plague on your shillings! Pox on your shillings! If it were
not for the sergeant, which dogs me at my heels, a plague on your
shillings! pox on your shillings! pox on yourself and your shillings!
pox on your worship! If I catch thee at Ostend--I dare not stay for the
sergeant. [_Exit_.
SIR RADERIC'S PAGE.
Good faith, Master Prodigo is an excellent fellow. He takes the Gulan
Ebullitio so excellently.
AMORETTO'S PAGE.
He is a good liberal gentleman: he hath bestowed an ounce of tobacco
upon us; and, as long as it lasts, come cut and long tail, we'll spend
it as liberally for his sake.
SIR RADERIC'S PAGE.
Come, fill the pipe quickly, while my master is in his melancholy
humour; it's just the melancholy of a collier's horse.
AMORETTO'S PAGE.
If you cough, Jack, after your tobacco, for a punishment you shall kiss
the pantofle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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