The London Prodigal | Page 5

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 such trivial debts as I owe in London. Item, to my son Matt Flowerdale, I bequeath two bale of false dice; Videlicet, high men and low men, fullomes, stop cater traies, and other bones of function.' Sblood, what doth he mean by this?
UNCLE. Proceed, cousin.
FLOWERDALE. "These precepts I leave him: let him borrow of his oath, for of his word no body will trust him. Let him by no means marry an honest woman, for the other will keep her self. Let him steal as much as he can, that a guilty conscience may bring him to his destinate repentance."--I think he means hanging. And this were his last will and Testament, the Devil stood laughing at his bed's feet while he made it. Sblood, what, doth he think to fop of his posterity with Paradoxes?
FATHER. This he made, sir, with his own