University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enter Prodigalitie, Money, Tom, Dicke.
Prod.
Come on, my bulchin, come on, my fat fatox.
Come porkeling, come on, come prettie twattox.
Why will it not be? yet faster a cursie.
This Gentleman of late is waxen so pursie,
As at euery lands end he seeketh to rest him.
How thinke ye? hath not Tenacity trimly drest him?

Money.
Prodigalitie, if thou lou'st me, let vs here stay:
For sure I can doe no more then I may.
I am out of breath as weary as a dog,

He falles downe vpon his elbow.
Tom.
A luskish lubber, as fat as a hogge.

Prod.
Come vp, gentle Money, wee may not here stay.

Money.
I must needes, Prodigalitie, there is no nay:
For if I should stirre me one inch from the ground,
I thinke I shall die, sure, or fall in a sound.

Prod.
Then must you be drawne.

Mony.
Drawne, or hang'd, all is one:
For I cannot stirre me, my breath is cleane gone.

Prod.
How like ye this grossum corpus, so mightily growne?

Tom.
I like him the better, that he is your owne.

Dick.
A more monstrous beast, a beast more vnweldie,
Since first I was borne, yet neuer beheld I.

Prod.
Indeed the hooreson is waxen somewhat too fat:
But we will finde medicines to remedie that.

Tom.
Sir, let me but haue him a little in cure,
To put my poore practise of Phisicke in vre,
And I dare warrant ye with a purgation or twaine,
Ile quickly rid him out of all this paine.

Prod.
I thinke a glister were better.

Dick.
Nay, rather a suppositorie.

Tom.
Nay then, what say you to letting of blood?

Dick.
I thinke that some of these should doe him good.
Aske the Phisicion.

Money.
Prodigalitie.

Prod.
Hoo.

Money.
I am sicke.

Prod.
Where, man?

Money.
Faith, here, in my belly.
It swelles, I assure ye, out of all measure.

Prod.
Take heed it grow not to a Timpany.

Money.
And if it doe, what is the danger then?

Prod.
A consumption.

Money.
A consumption? marrie, God forbid, man.

Tom.
What thinke you now of Tenacitie?
Was he your friend or your foe?

Money.
Ah, that wretch Tenacitie hath brought mee to all this woe,
'Twas he indeed that sought to destroy me,
In that he would neuer vse to employ me:
But Prodigalitie, sweet Prodigalitie,
Help to prouide some present remedie:
Let me not be thus miserably spilt,
Ease me of this, and vse me as thou wilt.
Yet had I rather liue in state bare and thin,
Then in this monstrous plight that now I am in:
So fatty, so foggy, so out of all measure,
That in my selfe, I take no kind of pleasure.

Prod.
Why, rise vp then quickly, and let vs be gone.

Money.
Friends, you must help me, I cannot rise alone.

Dick.
Come on, my sweet Money, we must haue a meane,
To turne this foggy fat, to a finer leane.

Money.
The sooner the better.

Tom.
Nay, Money, doubt not, but by sweat or by vomit,
I warrant thee boy, shortly thou shalt be rid from it.

Prod.
Rid, quotha, if shauing, or boxing, or scowring
Or noynting, or scraping, or purging, or blood-letting,
Or rubbing, or paring, or chafing, or fretting,
Or ought else will rid it, he shall want no ridding.
Come on, Money, let's be iogging.