Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Diane Monico, and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net THE Little French Lawyer. A COMEDY. * * * * * Persons Represented in the Play. Dinant, _a Gentleman that formerly loved, and still pretended to love_ Lamira. Cleremont, _a merry Gentleman, his Friend._ Champernell, _a lame old Gentleman, Husband to_ Lamira. Vertaign, _a Noble-man, and a Judge._ Beaupre, _Son to_ Vertaign. Verdone, _Nephew to_ Champernell. _Monsieur_ La Writt, _a wrangling Advocate, or the Little Lawyer._ Sampson, _a foolish Advocate, Kinsman to_ Vertaign. _Provost._ _Gentlemen._ _Clients._ _Servants._ _WOMEN._ Lamira, _Wife to_ Champernell, _and Daughter to_ Vertaign. Anabell, _Niece to_ Champernell. Old Lady, _Nurse to_ Lamira. Charlotte, _Waiting Gentlewoman to_ Lamira. _The Scene_ France. The principal Actors were, _Joseph Taylor._ _John Lowin._ _John Underwood._ _Robert Benfield._ _Nicholas Toolie._ _William Egleston._ _Richard Sharpe._ _Thomas Holcomb._ _Actus Primus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Dinant, _a[n]d_ Cleremont. _Din._ Disswade me not. _Clere._ It will breed a brawl. _Din._ I care not, I wear a Sword. _Cler._ And wear discretion with it, Or cast it off, let that direct your arm, 'Tis madness else, not valour, and more base Than to receive a wrong. _Din._ Why would you have me Sit down with a disgrace, and thank the doer? We are not Stoicks, and that passive courage Is only now commendable in Lackies, Peasants, and Tradesmen, not in men of rank And qualitie, as I am. _Cler._ Do not cherish That daring vice, for which the whole age suffers. The blood of our bold youth, that heretofore Was spent in honourable action, Or to defend, or to enlarge the Kingdom, For the honour of our Country, and our Prince, Pours it self out with prodigal expence Upon our Mothers lap, the Earth that bred us For every trifle; and these private Duells, Which had their first original from the _Fr[enc]h_ (And for which, to this day, we are justly censured) Are banisht from all civil Governments: Scarce three in _Venice_, in as many years; In _Florence_, they are rarer, and in all The fair Dominions of the _Spanish_ King, They are never heard of: Nay, those neighbour Countries, Which gladly imitate our other follies, And come at a dear rate to buy them of us, Begin now to detest them. _Din._ Will you end yet-- _Cler._ And I have heard that some of our late Kings, For the lie, wearing of a Mistris favour, A cheat at Cards or Dice, and such like causes, Have lost as many gallant Gentlemen, As might have met the great _Turk_ in the field With confidence of a glorious Victorie, And shall we then-- _Din._ No more, for shame no more, Are you become a Patron too? 'tis a new one, No more on't, burn't, give it to some Orator, To help him to enlarge his exercise, With such a one it might do well, and profit The Curat of the Parish, but for _Cleremont_, The bold, and undertaking _Cleremont_, To talk thus to his friend, his friend that knows him, _Dinant_ that knows his _Cleremont_, is absurd, And meer Apocrypha. _Cler._ Why, what know you of me? _Din._ Why if thou hast forgot thy self, I'le tell thee, And not look back, to speak of what thou wert At fifteen, for at those years I have heard Thou wast flesh'd, and enter'd bravely. _Cler._ Well Sir, well. _Din._ But yesterday, thou wast the common second, Of all that only knew thee, thou hadst bills Set up on every post, to give thee notice Where any difference was, and who were parties; And as to save the charges of the Law Poor men seek arbitrators, thou wert chosen By such as knew thee not, to compound quarrels: But thou wert so delighted with the sport, That if there were no just cause, thou wouldst make one, Or be engag'd thy self: This goodly calling Thou hast followed five and twenty years, and studied The Criticismes of contentions, and art thou In so few hours transform'd? certain this night Thou hast had strange dreams, or rather visions. _Clere._ Yes, Sir, I have seen fools, and fighters, chain'd together, And the Fighters had the upper hand, and whipt first, The poor Sots laughing at 'em. What I have been It skils not, what I will be is resolv'd on. _Din._ Why then you'l fight no more? _Cler._ Such is my purpose. _Din._ On no occasion? _Cler._ There you stagger me. Some kind of wrongs there are which flesh and blood Cannot endure. _Din._ Thou wouldst not willingly Live a protested coward, or be call'd one? _Cler._ Words are but words. _Din._ Nor wouldst thou take a blow? _Cler._ Not from my friend, though drunk, and from an enemy I think much less. _Din._ There's some hope of thee left then, Wouldst thou hear me behind my back disgrac'd? _Cler._ Do you think I am a rogue? they that should do it Had better been born dumb. _Din._ Or in thy presence See me o'recharg'd with odds? _Cler._ I'd fall my self first. _Din._ Would'st thou endure thy Mistris be taken from thee, And thou sit quiet? _Cler._ There you touch my honour, No French-man can endure that. _Di[n]._ Pl---- upon thee, Why dost thou talk of Peace then? that dar'st suffer Nothing, or in thy self, or in thy friend That is unmanly? _Cler._ That I grant, I cannot: But I'le not quarrel with this Gentleman For wearing stammel Breeches, or this Gamester For playing a thousand pounds, that owes me nothing; For this mans taking up a common Wench In raggs, and lowsie, then maintaining her Caroach'd in cloth of Tissue, nor five hundred Of such like toyes, that at no part concern me; Marry, where my honour, or my friend is questioned, I have a Sword, and I think I may use it To the cutting of a Rascals throat, or so, Like a good Christian. _Din._ Thou art of a fine Religion, And rather than we'l make a Schism in friendship I will be of it: But to be serious, Thou art acquainted with my tedious love-suit To fair _Lamira_? _Cler._ Too well Sir, and remember Your presents, courtship, that's too good a name, Your slave-like services, your morning musique; Your walking three hours in the rain at midnight, To see her at her window, sometimes laugh'd at, Sometimes admitted, and vouchsaf'd to kiss Her glove, her skirt, nay, I have heard, her slippers, How then you triumph'd? Here was love forsooth. _Din._ These follies I deny not, Such a contemptible thing my dotage made me, But my reward for this-- _Cler._ As you deserv'd, For he that makes a goddess of a Puppet, Merits no other recompence. _Din._ This day friend, For thou art so-- _Cler._ I am no flatterer. _Din._ This proud, ingratefull she, is married to Lame _Champernel_. _Cler._ I know him, he has been As tall a Sea-man, and has thriv'd as well by't, The loss of a legg and an arm deducted, as any That ever put from _Marseilles_: you are tame, Pl---- on't, it mads me; if it were my case, I should kill all the family. _Din._ Yet but now You did preach patience. _Cler._ I then came from confession, And 'twas enjoyn'd me three hours for a penance, To be a peaceable man, and to talk like one, But now, all else being pardon'd, I begin On a new Tally, Foot do any thing, I'le second you. _Din._ I would not willingly Make red, my yet white conscience, yet I purpose In the open street, as they come from the Temple, (For this way they must pass,) to speak my wrongs, And do it boldly. [_Musick playes._ _Cler._ Were thy tongue a Cannon, I would stand by thee, boy, they come, upon 'em. _Din._ Observe a little first. _Cler._ This is fine fidling. _Enter_ Vertaign, Champernel, Lamira, _Nurse_, Beaupre, Verdone. _An Epithalamium._ SONG at the Wedding. _Come away, bring on the Bride And place her by her Lovers side: You fair troop of Maids attend her, Pure and holy thoughts befriend her. Blush, and wish, you Virgins all, Many such fair nights may fall._ Chorus. _Hymen, fill the house with joy, All thy sacred fires employ: Bless the Bed with holy love, Now fair orb of Beauty move._ _Din._ Stand by, for I'le be heard. _Verta._ This is strange rudeness. _Din._ 'Tis courtship, ballanced with injuries, You all look pale with guilt, but I will dy Your cheeks with blushes, if in your sear'd veins There yet remain so much of honest blood To make the colour; first to ye my Lord, The Father of this Bride, whom you have sent Alive into her grave. _Champ._ How? to her grave? _Dina._ Be patient Sir, I'le speak of you anon You that allow'd me liberal access, To make my way with service, and approv'd of My birth, my person, years, and no base fortune: You that are rich, and but in this held wise too, That as a Father should have look'd upon Your Daughter in a husband, and aim'd more At what her youth, and heat of blood requir'd In lawfull pleasures, than the parting from Your Crowns to pay her dowr: you that already Have one foot in the grave, yet study profit, As if you were assur'd to live here ever; What poor end had you, in this choice? in what Deserve I your contempt? my house, and honours At all parts equal yours, my fame as fair, And not to praise my self, the City ranks me In the first file of her most hopefull Gentry: But _Champernel_ is rich, and needs a nurse, And not your gold: and add to that, he's old too, His whole estate in likelihood to descend Upon your Family; Here was providence, I grant, but in a Nobleman base thrift: No Merchants, nay, no Pirats, sell for Bondmen Their Country-men, but you, a Gentleman, To save a little gold, have sold your Daughter To worse than slaverie. _Cler._ This was spoke home indeed. _Beau._ Sir, I shall take some other time to tell you, That this harsh language was delivered to An old man, but my Father. _Din._ At your pleasure. _Cler._ Proceed in your design, let me alone, To answer him, or any man. _Verd._ You presume Too much upon your name, but may be couzen'd. _Din._ But for you, most unmindfull of my service, For now I may upbraid you, and with honour, Since all is lost, and yet I am a gainer, In being deliver'd from a torment in you, For such you must have been, you to whom nature Gave with a liberal hand most excellent form, Your education, language, and discourse, And judgement to distinguish, when you shall With feeling sorrow understand how wretched And miserable you have made your self, And but your self have nothing to accuse, Can you with hope from any beg compassion? But you will say, you serv'd your Fathers pleasure, Forgetting that unjust commands of Parents Are not to be obey'd, or that you are rich, And that to wealth all pleasure else are servants, Yet but consider, how this wealth was purchas'd, 'Twill trouble the possession. _Champ._ You Sir know I got it, and with honour. _Din._ But from whom? Remember that, and how: you'l come indeed To houses bravely furnish'd, but demanding Where it was bought, this Souldier will not lie, But answer truly, this rich cloth of Arras I made my prize in such a Ship, this Plate Was my share in another; these fair Jewels, Coming a shore, I got in such a Village, The Maid, or Matron kill'd, from whom they were ravish'd, The Wines you drink are guilty too, for this, This _Candie_ Wine, three Merchants were undone, These Suckets break as many more: in brief, All you shall wear, or touch, or see, is purchas'd By lawless force, and you but revel in The tears, and grones of such as were the owners. _Champ._ 'Tis false, most basely false. _Verta._ Let losers talk. _Din._ Lastly, those joyes, those best of joyes, which _Hymen_ Freely bestows on such, that come to tye The sacred knot be blesses, won unto it By equal love, and mutual affection, Not blindly led with the desire of riches, Most miserable you shall never taste of. This Marriage night you'l meet a Widows bed, Or failing of those pleasures all Brides look for, Sin in your wish it were so. _Champ._ Thou art a Villain, A base, malitious slanderer. _Cler._ Strike him. _Din._ No, he is not worth a blow. _Champ._ O that I had thee In some close vault, that only would yield room To me to use my Sword, to thee no hope To run away, I would make thee on thy knees, Bite out the tongue that wrong'd me. _Verta._ Pray you have patience. _Lamira._ This day I am to be your Soveraign, Let me command you. _Champ._ I am lost with rage, And know not what I am my self, nor you: Away, dare such as you, that love the smoke Of peace more than the fire of glorious War, And like unprofitable drones, feed on Your grandsires labours, that, as I am now, Were gathering Bees, and fill'd their Hive, this Country With brave triumphant spoils, censure our actions? You object my prizes to me, had you seen The horrour of a Sea-fight, with what danger I made them mine; the fire I fearless fought in, And quench'd it in mine enemies blood, which straight Like oyle pour'd out on't, made it burn anew; My Deck blown up, with noise enough to mock The lowdest thunder, and the desperate fools That Boorded me, sent, to defie the tempests That were against me, to the angrie Sea, Frighted with men thrown o're; no victory, But in despight of the four Elements, The Fire, the Air, the Sea, and sands hid in it To be atchiev'd, you would confess poor men, (Though hopeless, such an honourable way To get or wealth, or honour) in your selves He that through all these dreadfull passages Pursued and overtook them, unaffrighted, Deserves reward, and not to have it stil'd By the base name of theft. _Din._ This is the Courtship, That you must look for, Madam. _Cler._ 'Twill do well, When nothing can be done, to spend the night with: Your tongue is sound good Lord, and I could wish For this young Ladyes sake this leg, this arm, And there is something else, I will not name, (Though 'tis the only thing that must content her) Had the same vigour. _Champ._ You shall buy these scoffs With your best blood: help me once noble anger, (Nay stir not, I alone must right my self) And with one leg transport me, to correct These scandalous praters: O that noble wounds [_Falls._ Should hinder just revenge! D'ye jear me too? I got these, not as you do, your diseases In Brothels, or with riotous abuse Of wine in Taverns; I have one leg shot, One arm disabled, and am honour'd more, By losing them, as I did, in the face Of a brave enemy, than if they were As when I put to Sea; you are _French-men_ only, In that you have been laied, and cur'd, goe to: You mock my leg, but every bone about you, Makes you good Almanack-makers, to foretell What weather we shall have. _Din._ Put up your Sword. _Cler._ Or turn it to a Crutch, there't may b[e] usefull, And live on the relation to your Wife Of what a brave man you were once. _Din._ And tell her, What a fine vertue 'tis in a young Lady To give an old man pap. _Cler._ Or hire a Surgeon To teach her to roul up your broken limbs. _Din._ To make a Pultess, and endure the scent Of oils, and nasty Plasters. _Verta._ Fie Sir, fie, You that have stood all dangers of all kinds, to Yield to a Rivalls scoffe? _Lamira._ Shed tears upon Your Wedding day? this is unmanly Gentlemen. _Champ._ They are tears of anger: O that I should live To play the woman thus! All powerfull heaven, Restore me, but one hour, that strength again, That I had once, to chastise in these men Their folies, and ill manners, and that done, When you please, I'le yield up the fort of life, And do it gladly. _Cler._ We ha' the better of him, We ha' made him cry. _Verdo._ You shall have satisfaction. And I will do it nobly, or disclaim me. _Beaup._ I say no more, you have a Brother, Sister, This is your wedding day, we are in the street, And howsoever they forget their honour, 'Tis fit I lose not mine, by their example. _Vert._ If there be Laws in _Paris_, look to answer This insolent affront. _Cler._ You that live by them, Study 'em for heavens sake; for my part I know not Nor care not what they are. Is the[re] ought else That you would say; _Din._ Nothing, I have my ends. _Lamira_ weeps, I have said too much I fear; So dearly once I lov'd her, that I cannot Endure to see her tears. [_Exeunt_ Dinant, _and_ Cleremont. _Champ._ See you perform it, And do it like my Nephew. _Verdo._ If I fail in't Ne'r know me more, Cousin _Beaupre_. _Champ._ Repent not What thou hast done, my life, thou shalt not find I am decrepit; in my love and service, I will be young, and constant, and believe me, For thou shalt find it true, in scorn of all The scandals these rude men have thrown upon me I'le meet thy pleasures with a young mans ardour, And in all circumstances of a Husband, Perform my part. _Lamira._ Good Sir, I am your servant, And 'tis too late now, if I did repent, (Which as I am a virgin yet, I do not) To undoe the knot, that by the Church is tyed. Only I would beseech ye, as you have A good opinion of me, and my vertues, For so you have pleas'd to stile my innocent weakness, That what hath pass'd be[t]ween _Dinant_ and me, Or what now in your hearing he hath spoken, Beget not doubts, or fears. _Champ._ I apprehend you, You think I will be jealous; as I live Thou art mistaken sweet; and to confirm it Discourse with whom thou wilt, ride where thou wilt, Feast whom thou wilt, as often as thou wilt, For I will have no other guards upon thee Than thine own thoughts. _Lamira._ I'le use this liberty With moderation Sir. _Beaup._ I am resolv'd. Steal off, I'le follow you. _Champ._ Come Sir, you droop; Till you find cause, which I shall never give, Dislike not of your Son in Law. _Verta._ Sir, you teach me The language I should use; I am most happy In being so near you. [_Exeunt_ Verdone, _and_ Beaupre. _Lamira._ O my fears! good nurse Follow my Brother unobserv'd, and learn Which way he takes. _Nurs._ I will be carefull Madam. [_Exit_ Nurse. _Champ._ Between us complements are superfluous, On Gentlemen, th' affront we have met here We'l think upon hereafter, 'twere unfit To cherish any thought to breed unrest, Or to our selves, or to our Nuptial feast. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Dinant, _and_ Cleremont. _Cler._ We shall have sport, ne'r fear't. _Din._ What sport I prethee? _Cler._ Why we must fight, I know it, and I long for't, It was apparent in the fiery eye Of young _Verdone_, _Beaupre_ look'd pale and shook too, Familiar signs of anger. They are both brave fellows Tri'd and approv'd, and I am proud to encounter With men, from whom no honour can be lost; They will play up to a man, and set him off. When e're I go to the field, heaven keep me from The meeting of an unflesh'd youth or, Coward, The first, to get a name, comes on too hot, The Coward is so swift in giving ground, There is no overtaking him without A hunting Nag, well breath'd too. _Din._ All this while, You ne'r think on the danger. _Cler._ Why 'tis no more Than meeting of a dozen friends at Supper, And drinking hard; mischief comes there unlook'd for, I am sure as suddain, and strikes home as often, For this we are prepar'd. _Din._ _Lamira_ Loves Her Brother _Beaupre_ dearly. _Cler._ What of that? _Din._ And should he call me to account for what But now I spake, nor can I with mine honour Recant my words, that little hope is left me, E're to enjoy what (next to Heaven) I long for, Is taken from me. _Cer._ Why what can you hope for, She being now married? _Din._ Oh my _Cleremont_, To you all secrets of my heart lye open, And I rest most secure that whatsoe're I lock up there, is as a private thought, And will no farther wrong me. I am a _French-man_, And for the greater part we are born Courtiers, She is a woman, and however yet, No heat of service had the power to melt Her frozen Chastity, time and opportunitie May work her to my ends, I confess ill ones, And yet I must pursue 'em: now her marriage, In probabilitie, will no way hurt, But rather help me. _Cler._ Sits the wind there? pray you tell me How far off dwells your love from lust? _Din._ Too near, But prethee chide me not. _Cler._ Not I, goe on boy, I have faults my self, and will not reprehend A crime I am not free from: for her Marriage, I do esteem it (and most batchellors are Of my opinion) as a fair protection, To play the wanton without loss of honour. _Din._ Would she make use of't so, I were most happy. _Cler._ No more of this. Judge now, Whether I have the gift of prophecie. _Enter_ Beaupre, _and_ Verdone. _Beaup._ Monsieur _Dinant_, I am glad to find you, Sir. _Din._ I am at your service. _Verd._ Good Monsieur _Cleremont_, I have long wish'd To be known better to you. _Cler._ My desires Embrace your wishes Sir. _Beaup._ Sir, I have ever Esteem'd you truly noble, and profess I should have been most proud, to have had the honour To call you Brother, but my Fathers pleasure Denied that happiness. I know no man lives, That can command his passions, and therefore Dare not condemn the late intemperate language You were pleas'd to use to my Father and my Sister, He's old and she a woman, I most sorrie My honour does compel me to entreat you, To do me the favour, with your sword to meet me A mile without the Citie. _Din._ You much honour me. In the demand, I'le gladly wait upon you. _Beaup._ O Sir you teach me what to say: the time? _Din._ With the next Sun, if you think fit. _Beaup._ The place? _Din._ Near to the vineyard eastward from the Citie. _Beaup._ I like it well, this Gentleman if you please Will keep me company. _Cler._ That is agreed on; And in my friends behalf I will attend him. _Verd._ You shall not miss my service. _Beaup._ Good day Gentlemen. [_Ex._ Beaup. _and_ Verd. _Din._ At your Commandment. _Cler._ Proud to be your servants. I think there is no Nation under Heaven That cut their enemies throats with complement, And such fine tricks as we do: If you have Any few Prayers to say, this night you may Call 'em to mind and use 'em, for my self, As I have little to lose, my care is less, So till to morrow morning I bequeath you To your devotions; and those paid, but use That noble courage I have seen, and we Shall fight, as in a Castle. _Din._ Thou art all honour, Thy resolution would steel a Coward, And I most fortunate in such a Friend; All tenderness and nice respect of woman Be now far from me, reputation take A full possession of my heart, and prove Honour the first place holds, the second Love. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Lamira, Charlote. _Lami._ Sleeps my Lord still, _Charlote_? _Char._ Not to be wak'd. By your Ladiships cheerfull looks I well perceive That this night the good Lord hath been At an unusual service, and no wonder If he rest after it. _Lamira._ You are very bold. _Char._ Your Creature Madam, and when you are pleas'd Sadness to me's a stranger, your good pardon If I speak like a fool, I could have wisht To have ta'ne your place to night, had bold _Dinant_ Your first and most obsequious servant tasted Those delicates, which by his lethargie As it appears, have cloy'd my Lord. _Lamira._ No, more. _Char._ I am silenc'd, Madam. _Lamira._ Saw you my nurse this morning? _Charl._ No Madam. _Lamira._ I am full of fears. [_Knock within._ Who's that? _Charl._ She you enquir'd for. _Lamira._ Bring her in, and leave me. [_Exit_ Charlote. Now nurse what news? _Enter_ Nurse. _Nurse._ O Ladie dreadfull ones. They are to fight this morning, there's no remedie. I saw my Lord your Brother, and _Verdone_ Take horse as I came by. _Lamira._ Where's _Cleremont_? _Nurse._ I met him too, and mounted. _Lamira._ Where's _Dinant_? _Nurse._ There's all the hope, I have staid him with a trick, If I have done well so. _Lamira._ What trick? _Nurse._ I told him, Your Ladiship laid your command upon him, To attend you presently, and to confirm it, Gave him the ring he oft hath seen you wear, That you bestowed on me: he waits without Disguis'd, and if you have that power in him, As I presume you have, it is in you To stay or alter him. _Lamira._ Have you learnt the place, Where they are to encounter? _Nurse._ Yes 'tis where The Duke of _Burgundie_ met _Lewis_ th' eleventh. _Lamir._ Enough, I will reward thee liberally, [_Exit_ Nurse. Goe bring him in: full dear I loved _Dinant_, While it was lawfull, but those fires are quench'd I being now anothers, truth forgive me And let dissimulation be no crime, Though most unwillingly I put it on To guard a Brothers safetie. _Enter_ Dinant. _Din._ Now your pleasure, Though ill you have deserv'd it, you perceive I am still your fool, and cannot but obey What ever you command. _Lamira._ You speak, as if You did repent it, and 'tis not worth my thanks then, But there has been a time, in which you would Receive this as a favour. _Din._ Hope was left then Of recompence. _Lamira._ Why I am still _Lamira_, And you _Dinant_, and 'tis yet in my power, I dare not say I'le put it into act, To reward your love and service. _Din._ There's some comfort. _Lami._ But think not that so low I prize my fame, To give it up to any man that refuses To buy it, or with danger of performance Of what I shall enjoin him. _Din._ Name that danger Be it of what horrid shape soever Ladie Which I will shrink at; only at this instant Be speedie in't. _Lamira._ I'le put you to the trial: You shall not fight to day, do you start at that? Not with my Brother, I have heard your difference, Mine is no _Helens_ beauty to be purchas'd With blood, and so defended, if you look for Favours from me, deserve them with obedience, There's no way else to gain 'em. _Din._ You command What with mine honour I cannot obey, Which lies at pawn against it, and a friend Equally dear as that, or life, engag'd, Not for himself, but me. _Lamira._ Why, foolish man, Dare you solicite me to serve your lust, In which not only I abuse my Lord, My Father, and my family, but write whore, Though not upon my forehead, in my conscience, To be read hourly, and yet name your honour? Yours suffers but in circumstance; mine in substance. If you obey me, you part with some credit, From whom? the giddy multitude; but mankind Will censure me, and justly. _Din._ I will lose, What most I do desire, rather than hazard So dear a friend, or write my self a coward, 'Tis better be no man. _Lamira._ This will not do; Why, I desire not, you should be a coward, Nor do I weigh my Brothers life with yours, Meet him, fight with him, do, and kill him fairly, Let me not suffer for you, I am careless. _Din._ Suffer for me? _Lamira._ For you, my kindness to you Already brands me with a strumpets name. _Din._ O that I knew the wretch! _Lamira._ I will not name him, Nor give you any Character to know him; But if you dare, and instantly ride forth At the west port of the City, and defend there My reputation, against all you meet, For two hours only, I'le not swear _Dinant_, To satisfie, (though sure I think I shall) What ever you desire, if you denie this, Be desperate, for willingly, by this light, I'le never see thee more. _Din._ Two hours, do you say? _Lamira._ Only two hours. _Din._ I were no Gentleman, Should I make scruple of it; this favour arms me, And boldly I'll perform it. [_Exit._ _Lamira._ I am glad on't. This will prevent their meeting yet, and keep My Brother safe, which was the mark I shot at. [_Exit._ _Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Cleremont, _as in the field_. _Cler._ I am first i'th' field, that honour's gain'd of our side, Pray Heaven I may get off as honourablie, The hour is past, I wonder _Dinant_ comes not, This is the place, I cannot see him yet; It is his quarel too that brought me hither, And I ne'r knew him yet, but to his honour A firm and worthy Friend, yet I see nothing, Nor Horse nor man, 'twould vex me to be left here, To th' mercy of two swords, and two approv'd ones. I never knew him last. _Enter_ Beaupre, _and_ Verdone. _Beaup._ You are well met _Cleremont_. _Verdo._ You are a fair Gentleman, and love your friend Sir. What are you ready? the time has overta'ne us. _Beaup._ And this you know the place. _Cler._ No _Dinant_ yet? _Beaup._ We come not now to argue, but to do; We wait you Sir. _Cler._ There's no time past yet Gentlemen, We have day enough: is't possible he comes not? You see I am ready here, and do but stay Till my Friend come, walk but a turn or two, 'Twill not be long. _Verd._ We came to fight. _Cler._ Ye shall fight Gentlemen, And fight enough, but a short turn or two, I think I see him, set up your watch, we'l fight by it. _Beaup._ That is not he; we will not be deluded. _Cler._ Am I bob'd thus? pray take a pipe of tobacco, Or sing but some new air; by that time, Gentlemen-- _Verd._ Come draw your Sword, you know the custome here Sir, First come, first serv'd. _Cler._ Though it be held a custom, And practised so, I do not hold it honest; What honour can you both win on me single? _Beaup._ Yield up your Sword then. _Cler._ Yield my Sword? that's Hebrew; I'le be first cut a p[iec]es; hold but a while, I'le take the next that comes. _Enter an old_ Gentleman. You are an old Gentleman? _Gent._ Yes indeed am I, Sir. _Cler._ And wear no Sword? _Gent._ I need none, Sir. _Cler._ I would you did, and had one; I want now such a foolish courtesie. You see these Gentlemen? _Gent._ You want a second. In good Faith Sir, I was never handsom at it, I would you had my Son, but he's in _Italy_, A proper Gentleman; you may do well gallants If your quarrel be not capital, to have more mercy, The Gentleman may do his Country-- _Cler._ Now I beseech you, Sir, If you dare not fight, do not stay to beg my pardon. There lies your way. _Gent._ Good morrow Gentlemen. [_Exit._ _Verd._ You see your fortune, You had better yield your Sword. _Cler._ Pray ye stay a little. _Enter two_ Gentlemen. Upon mine honestie, you shall be fought with; Well, _Dinant_, well, these wear swords and seem brave fellows. As you are Gentlemen, one of you supply me. I want a Second now to meet these gallants, You know what honour is. _1 Gent._ Sir you must pardon us, We goe about the same work, you are ready for; And must fight presently, else we were your servants. _2 Gent._ God speed you, and good day. [_Exit_ Gent. _Cler._ Am I thus Colted? _Beaup._ Come either yield-- _Cler._ As you are honest Gentlemen, Stay but the next, and then I'le take my fortune, And if I fight not like a man--Fy _Dinant_, Cold now and treacherous. _Enter Monsieur_ La-writ, _within_. _La-Writ._ I understand your causes. Yours about corn, yours about pins and glasses, Will you make me mad, have I not all the parcells? And his Petition too, about Bell-founding? Send in your witnesses, what will you have me do? Will you have me break my heart? my brains are melted; And tell your Master, as I am a Gentleman, His Cause shall be the first, commend me to your Mistris, And tell her, if there be an extraordinary feather, And tall enough for her--I shall dispatch you too, I know your cause, for transporting of Farthingales Trouble me no more, I say again to you, No more vexation: bid my wife send me some puddings; I have a Cause to run through, requires puddings, Puddings enough. Farewel. _Cler._ God speed you, Sir. _Beaup._ Would he would take this fellow. _Verd._ A rare Youth. _Cler._ If you be not hastie, Sir. _La-writ._ Yes, I am hastie, Exceeding hastie, Sir, I am going to the Parliament, You understand this bag, if you have any business Depending there, be short, and let me hear it, And pay your Fees. _Cler._ 'Faith, Sir, I have a business, But it depends upon no Parliament. _La-writ._ I have no skill in't then. _Cler._ I must desire you, 'Tis a Sword matter, Sir. _La-writ._ I am no Cutler, I am an Advocate, Sir. _Beaup._ How the thing looks? _Verd._ When he brings him to fight. _Cler._ Be not so hastie, You wear a good Sword. _La-writ._ I know not that, I never drew it yet, or whether it be a Sword-- _Cler._ I must entreat you try, Sir, and bear a part Against these Gentlemen, I want a second; Ye seem a man, and 'tis a noble office. _La-writ._ I am a Lawyer, Sir, I am no fighter. _Cler._ You that breed quarels, Sir, know best to satisfie. _Beaup._ This is some sport yet. _Verd._ If this fellow should fight. _La-writ._ And for any thing I know, I am an arrant coward, Do not trust me, I think I am a coward. _Cler._ Try, try, you are mistaken: walk on Gentlemen, The man shall follow presently. _La-writ._ Are ye mad Gentleman? My business is within this half hour. _Cler._ That's all one, We'll dispatch within this quarter, there in that bottom, 'Tis most convenient Gentlemen. _Beaup._ Well, we'll wait, Sir. _Verd._ Why this will be a comick fight, you'l follow. _La-writ._ As I am a true man, I cannot fight. [_Ex._ Beaupre, Verdone. _Cler._ Away, away, I know you can: I like your modesty, I know you will fight and so fight, with such metal, And with such judgement meet your enemies fury; I see it in your eye, Sir. _La-writ._ I'le be hang'd then; And I charge you in the Kings name, name no more fighting. _Cler._ I charge you in the Kings name, play the man, Which if you do not quickly, I begin with you, I'le make you dance, do you see your fiddlestick? Sweet A[d]vocate thou shalt fight. _La-writ._ Stand farther Gentleman, Or I'le give you such a dust o'th' chapps-- _Cler._ Spoke bravely, And like thy self, a noble Advocate: Come to thy tools. _La-writ._ I do not say I'le fight; _Cler._ I say thou shalt, and bravely. _La-writ._ If I do fight; I say, if I do, but do not depend upon't, And yet I have a foolish itch upon me, What shall become of my Writings? _Cler._ Let 'em ly by, They will not run away, man. _La-writ._ I may be kill'd too, And where are all my causes then? my business? I will not fight, I cannot fight, my Causes-- _Cler._ Thou shalt fight, if thou hadst a thousand causes, Thou art a man to fight for any cause, And carry it with honour. _La-writ._ Hum, say you so? if I should Be such a coxcombe to prove valiant now-- _Cler._ I know thou art most valiant. _La-writ._ Do you think so? I am undone for ever, if it prove so, I tell you that, my honest friend, for ever; For I shall ne're leave quarrelling. How long must we fight? for I cannot stay, Nor will not stay, I have business. _Cler._ We'l do't in a minute, in a moment. _La-writ._ Here will I hang my bag then, it may save my belly, I never lov'd cold Iron there. _Cler._ You do wisely. _La-writ._ Help me to pluck my Sword out then, quickly, quickly, 'Thas not seen Sun these ten years. _Cler._ How it grumbles! This Sword is vengeance angry. _La-writ._ Now I'le put my hat up, And say my prayers as I goe; away boy, If I be kill'd, remember the little Lawyer. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Beaupre. _Beaup._ They are both come on, that may be a stubborn rascal, Take you that ground, _Enter_ La-writ. I'le stay here, fight bravely. _La-writ._ To't chearfully my boyes, you'l let's have fair play, None of your foyning tricks. _Beaup._ Come forward Monsieur; [_Fight._ What hast thou there? a pudding in thy belly? I shall see what it holds. _La-writ._ Put your spoon home then: Nay, since I must fight, have at you without wit, Sir: God a mercy bagg. _Beaup._ Nothing but bumbast in ye? The Rogue winks and fights. _La-writ._ Now your fine fencing, Sir: [Beau. _loses his sword_. Stand off, thou diest on point else, [La-writ _treads on it_. I have it, I have it: yet further off: I have his Sword. _Cler._ Then keep it, be sure you keep it. _La-writ._ I'le put it in my mouth else. Stand further off yet, and stand quietly, And look another way, or I'le be with you, Is this all? I'le undertake within these two daies To furnish any Cutler in this Kingdom. _Beau._ Pox, what fortune's this? disarm'd by a puppie? A snail? a Dog? _La-writ._ No more o' these words Gentleman, Sweet Gentleman no more, do not provoke me, Go walk i'th' horse-fair; whistle Gentleman, What must I do now? _Enter_ Cleremont, _pursued by_ Verdone. _Cler._ Help me, I am almost breathless. _La-writ._ With all my heart, there's a cold pye for you, Sir. _Cler._ Thou strik'st me, fool. _La-writ._ Thou fool, stand further off then, Deliver, deliver. _Cler._ Hold fast. [_He strikes up the others heels, and takes his Sword too._ _La-writ._ I never fail in't, There's twelve pence, go buy you two leaden Daggers, Have I done well? _Cler._ Most like a Gentleman. _Beau._ And we two basely lost. _Verd._ 'Tis but a fortune, We shall yet find an hour. [_Ex._ Beau. Verd. _sad_. _Cler._ I shall be glad on't. _La-writ._ Where's my cloak, and my trinkets? Or will you fight any longer, for a crash or two? _Cler._ I am your noble friend, Sir. _La-writ._ It may be so. _Cler._ What honour shall I do you, For this great courtesie? _La-writ._ All I desire of ye, Is to take the quarrel to your self, and let me hear no more on't, I have no liking to't, 'tis a foolish matter, And help me to put up my Sword. _Cler._ Most willingly. But I am bound to gratifie you, and I must not leave you. _La-writ._ I tell you, I will not be gratified, Nor I will hear no more on't: take the Swords too, And do not anger me but leave me quietly. For the matter of honour, 'tis at your own disposure, And so, and so. [_Exit_ La-writ. _Cler._ This is a most rare Lawyer: I am sure most valiant. Well _Dinant_, as you satisfie me, I say no more: I am loaden like an Armorer. [_Exit_ Cler. _Enter_ Dinant. _Din._ To be dispatcht upon a sleeveless errand? To leave my friend engag'd, mine honour tainted? These are trim things. I am set here like a Perdue, To watch a fellow, that has wrong'd my Mistris, A scurvy fellow that must pass this way, But what this scurvy fellow is, or whence, Or whether his name be _William_ or _John_, Or _Anthony_ or _Dick_, or any thing, I know not; A scurvy rascally fellow I must aim at, And there's the office of an Asse flung on me. Sure _Cleremont_ has fought, but how come off, And what the world shall think of me hereafter: Well, woman, woman, I must look your rascals, And lose my reputation: ye have a fine power over us. These two long hours I have trotted here, and curiously Survey'd all goers by, yet find no rascal, Nor any face to quarel with: What's that? [La-writ _sings within, then Enters_. This is a rascally voice, sure it comes this way. _La-writ._ _He strook so hard, the Bason broke, And_ Tarquin _heard the sound_. _Din._ What Mister thing is this? let me survey it. _La-writ._ _And then he strook his neck in two._ _Din._ This may be a rascal, but 'tis a mad rascal, What an Alphabet of faces he puts on! Hey how it fences! if this should be the rogue, As 'tis the likeliest rogue I see this day-- _La-wr._ _Was ever man for Ladies sake? down, down._ _Di._ And what are you good Sir? down, down, down, down. _La-writ._ What's that to you good Sir? down, down. _Din._ A pox on you good Sir, down, down, down, You with your Buckram bag, what make you here? And from whence come you? I could fight with my shadow now. _La-wr._ Thou fierce man that like Sir _Lancelot_ dost appear, I need not tell thee what I am, nor eke what I make here. _Din._ This is a precious knave, stay, stay, good _Tristram_, And let me ask thy mightiness a question, Did ye never abuse a Lady? _La-writ._ Not; to abuse a Lady, is very hard, Sir. _Din._ Say you so, Sir? Didst thou never abuse her honour? _La-writ._ Not; to abuse her honour, is impossible. _Din._ Certain this is the rascal: What's thy name? _La-writ._ My name is _Cock o' two_, use me respectively, I will be Cock of three else. _Din._ What's all this? You say, you did abuse a Lady. _La-writ._ You ly. _Din._ And that you wrong'd her honour. _La-writ._ That's two lyes, Speak suddenly, for I am full of business. _Din._ What art thou, or what canst thou be, thou pea-goose, That dar'st give me the ly thus? thou mak'st me wonder. _La-writ._ And wonder on, till time make all things plain. _Din._ You must not part so, Sir, art thou a Gentleman? _La-writ._ Ask those upon whose ruins I am mounted. _Din._ This is some Cavellero Knight o'th' Sun. _La-wr._ I tell thee I am as good a Gentleman as the Duke; I have atchieved--goe follow thy business. _Din._ But for this Lady, Sir-- _La-writ._ Why, hang this Lady, Sir, And the Lady Mother too, Sir, what have I to do with Ladies? _Enter_ Cleremont. _Cler._ 'Tis the little Lawyers voice: has he got my way? It should be hereabouts. _Din._ Ye dry bisket rogue, I will so swinge you for this blasphemie-- Have I found you out? _Cler._ That should be _Dinants_ tongue too. _La-wr._ And I defy thee do thy worst: _O ho quoth_ Lancelot _tho_. And that thou shalt know, I am a true Gentleman, And speak according to the phrase triumphant; Thy Lady is a scurvy Lady, and a shitten Lady, And though I never heard of her, a deboshed Lady, And thou, a squire of low degree; will that content thee? Dost [thou] way-lay me with Ladies? A pretty sword, Sir, A very pretty sword, I have a great mind to't. _Din._ You shall not lose your longing, rogue. _Cler._ Hold, hold. Hold _Dinant_, as thou art a Gentleman. _La-writ._ As much as you will, my hand is in now. _Cler._ I am your friend, Sir: _Dinant_ you draw your sword Upon the Gentleman preserv'd your honour: This was my second, and did back me nobly, For shame forbear. _Din._ I ask your mercy, Sir, and am your servant now. _La-writ._ May we not fight then? _Cler._ I am sure you shall not now. _La-wr._ I am sorry for't, I am sure I'le stay no longer then, Not a jot longer: are there any more on ye afore? I will sing still, Sir. [_Exit_ La-writ, _singing_. _Din._ I look now you should chide me, and 'tis fit, And with much bitterness express your anger, I have deserv'd: yet when you know-- _Cler._ I thank ye, Do you think that the wrong you have off'red me, The most unmanly wrong, unfriendly wrong-- _Din._ I do confess-- _Cler._ That boyish sleight-- _Din._ Not so, Sir. _Cler._ That poor and base renouncing of your honour, Can be allaied with words? _Din._ I give you way still. _Cler._ Coloured with smooth excuses? Was it a friends part, A Gentlemans, a mans that wears a Sword, And stands upon the point of reputation, To hide his head then, when his honour call'd him? Call'd him aloud, and led him to his fortune? To halt and slip the coller? by my life, I would have given my life I had never known thee, Thou hast eaten Canker-like into my judgement With this disgrace, thy whole life cannot heal again. _Din._ This I can suffer too, I find it honest. _Cler._ Can you pretend an excuse now may absolve you, Or any thing like honest, to bring you off? Ingage me like an Asse? _Din._ Will you but hear me? _Cler._ Expose me like a Jade to tug, and hale through, Laugh'd at, and almost hooted? your disgraces Invite mens Swords and angers to dispatch me. _Din._ If you will be patient. _Cler._ And be abus'd still: But that I have call'd thee friend, And to that name allow a Sanctuary, You should hear further from me, I would not talk thus: But henceforth stand upon your own bottom, Sir, And bear your own abuses, I scorn my sword Should travel in so poor and empty quarrels. _Din._ Ha' you done yet? take your whole swing of anger, I'le bear all with content. _Cler._ Why were you absent? _Din._ You know I am no Coward, you have seen that, And therefore, out of fear forsook you not: You know I am not false, of a treacherous nature, Apt to betray my friend, I have fought for you too; You know no business, that concern'd my state, My kindred, or my life. _Cler._ Where was the fault then? _Din._ The honour of that Lady I adore, Her credit, and her name: ye know she sent for me, And with what haste. _Cler._ What was he that traduc'd? _Din._ The man i'th' Moon, I think, hither I was sent, But to what end-- _Enter old_ Lady. _Cler._ This is a pretty flim-flam. _O. La._ I am glad I have met you Sir, I have been seeking, And seeking every where. _Cler._ And now you have found him, Declare what business, our Embassadour. _O. Lady._ What's that to ye good man flouter? O Sir, my Lady. _Din._ Prethee no more of thy Lady, I have too much on't. _Cler._ Let me have a little, speak to me. _Old Lady._ To you Sir? 'Tis more than time: All occasions set aside Sir, Or whatsoever may be thought a business-- _Din._ What then? _Old Lady._ Repair to me within this hour. _Cler._ Where? _O. Lady._ What's that to you? come you, Sir, when y'are sent for. _Cler._ God a mercy _Mumpsimus_, You may goe _Dinant_, and follow this old Fairie, Till you have lost your self, your friends, your credit, And Hunt away your youth in rare adventures, I can but grieve I have known you. _Old Lady._ Will ye goe Sir? I come not often to you with these blessings, You m[a]y believe that thing there, and repent it, That dogged thing. _Cler._ Peace touchwood. _Din._ I will not goe: Goe bid your Lady seek some fool to fawn on
{'title': 'The Little French Lawyer: A Comedy by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}