I pray commend me to my sovereign king,
And tell him in what sort his Cromwell died,
To lose his head before his cause was tried;
But let his grace, when he shall hear my name,
Say only this: Gardiner procured the same.

Enter young CROMWELL.

Lieu. Here is your son, Sir, come to take his leave
Crom. To take his leave? Come hither, Harry Cromwell.
Mark, boy, the last words that I speak to thee:
Flatter not Fortune, neither fawn upon her;
Gape not for state, yet lose no spark of honour;
Ambition, like the plague, see thou eschew it;
I die for treason, boy, and never knew it.
Yet let thy faith as spotless be as mine,
And Cromwell's virtues in thy face shall shine:
Come, go along, and see me leave my breath,
And I'll leave thee upon the floor of death.

Son. O father, I shall die to see that wound,
Your blood being spilt will make my heart to swound.
Crom. How, boy! not dare to look upon the axe ?
How shall I do then to have my head struck off?
Come on, my child, and see the end of all;
And after say, that Gardiner was my fall.

Gard. My lord, you speak it of an envious heart;
I have done no more than law and equity.

Bed. O, my good lord of Winchester, forbear:
It would have better seem'd you to have been absent,
Than with your words disturb a dying man.

Crom. Who, me, my lord? no: he disturbs not me.
My mind he stirs not, though his mighty shock
Hath brought more peers' heads down unto the block.
Farewell, my boy! all Cromwell can bequeath,-
My hearty blessing;-so I take my leave.

Exec. I am your death's-man; pray, my lord, forgive me. Crom. Even with my soul. Why, man, thou art my doctor, And bring'st me precious physic for my soul.

My lord of Bedford, I desire of you

Before my death a corporal embrace.
Farewell, great lord; my love I do commend,
My heart to you; my soul to heaven I send.
This is my joy, that ere my body fleet,

Your honour'd arms are my true winding-sheet.

Farewell, dear Bedford; my peace is made in heaven.
Thus falls great Cromwell, a poor ell in length,

To rise to unmeasured height, wing'd with new strength,
Hail, land of worms, which dying men discover!
My soul is shrined with heaven's celestial cover.

Exeunt CROMWELL, Officers, &c. Bed. Well, farewell Cromwell! sure the truest friend

That ever Bedford shall possess again.

Well, lords, I fear that when this man is dead,
You'll wish in vain that Cromwell had a head.

Enter an OFFICER, with CROMWELL'S head.
Offi. Here is the head of the deceased Cromwell.
Bed. Pray thee go hence, and bear his head away
Unto his body; inter them both in clay.

Enter SIR RALPH SADLER.

[Exit OFFICER.

Sad. How now, my lords? What, is Lord Cromwell dead? Bed. Lord Cromwell's body now doth want a head. Sad. O God, a little speed had saved his life. Here is a kind reprieve come from the king,

To bring him straight unto his majesty.

Suf. Ay, ay, Sir Ralph, reprieves come now too late. Gard. My conscience now tells me this deed was ill. Would Christ that Cromwell were alive again!

Nor. Come, let us to the king, who, well I know,

Will grieve for Cromwell, that his death was so. [Exeunt omnes.

LONDON PRODIGAL.

"This play, if Shakspeare's at all," says Hazlitt, in his Lectures, "must have been among the sins of his youth."

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

FLOWERDALE SENIOR, a Mer- | DAFFODOLE) Servants topi

chant.

MATTHEW FLOWERDALE, his

son.

FLOWERDALE JUNIOR, Brother to the Merchant.

SIR LANCELOT SPURCOCK.

SIR ARTHUR GREEN

SHIELD, a Military

ARTICHOKE,

cock.

Lancelot Spur

DICK and RALPH, two cheating
Gamesters.

RUFFIAN, a Pander.

DELIA,

in love

Officer,

FRANCES,

with Luce.

OLIVER, a Devonshire

LUCE,

CITIZEN'S WIFE.

SHERIFF and OFFICERS, LIEUTENANT and SOLDIERS, DRAWERS, and other ATTENDANTS.

SCENE.-London, and the parts adjacent.

ACT I.

SCENE I-London. A Room in FLOWERDALE JUNIOR'S House.

Enter FLOWERDALE SENIOR and FLOWERDALE JUNIOR.

Flow. Sen. Brother, from Venice, being thus disguised,

I come, to prove the humours of my son.

How hath he borne himself since my departure,

I leaving you his patron and his guide?

Flow. Jun. I' faith, brother, so, as you will grieve to hear,

And I almost ashamed to report it.

Flow. Sen. Why, how is't, brother? What, doth he spend beyond the allowance I left him?

Flow. Jun. How! beyond that? and far more. Why, your exhibition is nothing. He hath spent that, and since hath borrowed: protested with oaths, alleged kindred, to wring money from me,-by the love I bore his father, by the fortunes might fall upon himself, to furnish his wants: that done, I have had since, his bond, his friend and friend's bond. Although I know that he spends is yours, yet it grieves me to see the unbridled wildness that reigns over him.

Flow. Sen. Brother, what is the manner of his life? how is the name of his offences? If they do not relish altogether of damnation, his youth may privilege his wantonness. I myself ran an unbridled course till thirty, nay, almost till forty:-well, you see how I am. For vice once looked into with the eyes of discretion, and well balanced with the weights of reason, the course passed seem so abominable, that the landlord of himself, which is the heart of his body, will rather entomb himself in the earth, or seek a new tenant to remain in him; which once settled, how much better are they that in their youth have known all these vices, and left them, than those that knew little, and in their age run into them? Believe me, brother, they that die most virtuous, have in their youth lived most vicious; and none knows the danger of the fire more than he that falls into it.But say, how is the course of his life? let's hear his particulars. Flow. Jun. Why, I'll tell you, brother; he is a continual swearer, and a breaker of his oaths; which is bad.

Flow. Sen. I grant indeed to swear is bad, but the not keeping those oaths is better; for who will set by a bad thing? Nay, by my faith, I hold this rather a virtue than a vice. Well, I pray proceed.

Flow. Jun. He is a mighty brawler, and comes commonly by the worst.

Flow. Sen. By my faith, this is none of the worst neither; for if he brawl, and be beaten for it, it will in time make him shun it; for what brings man or child more to virtue than correction? -What reigns over him else?

Flow. Jun. He is a great drinker, and one that will forget himself.

Flow. Sen. O best of all! vice should be forgotten: let him drink on, so he drink not churches. Nay, an this be the worst, I hold it rather a happiness in him, than any iniquity. Hath he any more attendants?

Flow. Jun. Brother, he is one that will borrow of any man. Flow. Sen. Why, you see, so doth the sea; it borrows of all the small currents in the world to increase himself.

Flow. Jun. Ay, but the sea pays it again, and so will never your son.

Flow. Sen. No more would the sea neither, if it were as dry as my son.

Flow. Jun. Then, brother, I see you rather like these vices in your son, than any way condemn them.

Flow. Sen. Nay, mistake me not, brother; for though I slur

• Allowance.

† (What).

+ (Store by).

them over now, as things slight and nothing, his crimes being in the bud, it would gall my heart, they should ever reign in him.

M. Flow. [within]. Ho! who's within, ho?

[M. FLOWERDALE knocks within. Flow. Jun. That's your son; he is come to borrow more

money.

Flow. Sen. For God's sake give it out I am dead; see how he'll take it. Say I have brought you news from his father. I have here drawn a formal will, as it were from myself, which I'll deliver him.

Flow. Jun. Go to, brother, no more: I will.

M. Flow. Uncle, where are you, uncle?

Flow. Jun. Let my cousin in there.

[Within.

Flow. Sen. I am a sailor come from Venice, and my name is Christopher.

Enter M. FLOWERDALE.

M. Flow. By the Lord, in truth, uncle—

Flow. Jun. In truth would have served, cousin, without the lord.

M. Flow. By your leave, uncle, the Lord is the Lord of truth. A couple of rascals at the gate set upon me for my

purse.

Flow. Jun. You never come, but you bring a brawl in your mouth.

M. Flow. By my truth, uncle, you must needs lend me ten pound.

Flow. Jun. Give my cousin some small beer here.

M. Flow. Nay look you, you turn it to a jest now. By this light, I should ride to Croydon fair, to meet Sir Lancelot Spurcock; I should have his daughter Luce: and for scurvy ten pound, a man shall lose nine hundred three score and odd pounds, and a daily friend beside! By this hand, uncle, 'tis true.

Flow. Jun. Why, anything is true, for aught I know.

M. Flow. To see now!-why, you shall have my bond, uncle, or Tom White's, James Brock's, or Nick Hall's; as good rapierand-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.

Flow. Jun. Cousin, this is not the first time I have believed

you.

M. Flow. 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.

Flow. Jun. Why, what is it, cousin?

M. Flow. Marry, this, uncle. Can you tell me if the Catherine and Hugh be come home or no?

Flow. Jun. Ay, marry, is't.

M. Flow. By God, I thank you for that news. What, is't in the Pool, can you tell?