The Little French Lawyer: A Comedy

Din. Why do you use me thus? thus poorly? basely?Work me into a hope, and then destroy me?Why did you send for me? this new way train me?Lam. Mad-man, and fool, and false man, now I'll shew thee.Din. 'Pray put your light out.Lam. Nay I'll hold it thus,That all chaste Eyes may see thy lust, and scorn it.Tell me but this when you first doted on me,And made suit to enjoy me as your Wife,Did you not hold me honest?Din. Yes, most vertuous.Lam. And did not that appear the only lustreThat made me worth your love and admiration?Din. I must confess—Lam. Why would you deal so basely?So like a thief, a Villain?Din. Peace, good Madam.Lam. I'll speak aloud too; thus maliciously,Thus breaking all the Rules of honesty,Of honour and of truth, for which I lov'd you,For which I call'd you servant, and admir'd you;To steal that Jewel purchas'd by another,Piously set in Wedlock, even that Jewel,Because it had no flaw, you held unvaluable:Can he that has lov'd good, dote on the Devil?For he that seeks a Whore, seeks but his Agent;Or am I of so wild and low a blood?So nurs'd in infamies?Din. I do not think so,And I repent. Lam. That will not serve your turn, Sir.Din. It was your treaty drew me on.Lam. But it was your villanyMade you pursue it; I drew you but to tryHow much a man, and nobly thou durst stand,How well you had deserv'd the name of vertuous;But you like a wild torrent, mix'd with allBeastly and base affections came floating on,Swelling your poyson'd billows—Din. Will you betray me?Lam. To all the miseries a vext Woman may.Din. Let me but out,Give me but room to toss my Sword about me,And I will tell you y'are a treacherous woman,O that I had but words!Lam. They will not serve you.Din. But two-edg'd words to cut thee; a Lady traytor?Perish by a proud Puppet? I did you too much honour,To tender you my love, too much respected youTo think you worthy of my worst embraces.Go take your Groom, and let him dally with you,Your greasie Groom; I scorn to imp your lame stock,You are not fair, nor handsome, I lyed loudly,This tongue abus'd you when it spoke you beauteous.Lam. 'Tis very well, 'tis brave.Din. Put out your light,Your lascivious eyes are flames enoughFor Fools to find you out; a Lady Plotter!Must I begin your sacrifice of mischief?I and my friend, the first-fruits of that bloud,You and your honourable Husband aim at?Crooked and wretched you are both.Lam. To you, Sir,Yet to the Eye of Justice straight as Truth.Din. Is this a womans love? a womans mercy?Do you profess this seriously? do you laugh at me?Lam. Ha, ha.Din. Pl– light upon your scorns, upon your flatteries,Upon your tempting faces, all destructions;A bedrid winter hang upon your cheeks,And blast, blast, blast those buds of Pride that paint you;Death in your eyes to fright men from these dangers:Raise up your trophy, Cleremont.Cler. What a vengeance ail you?Din. What dismal noise! is there no honour in you?Cleremont, we are betrayed, betrayed, sold by a woman;Deal bravely for thy self.Cler. This comes of rutting;Are we made stales to one another?Din. Yes, we are undone, lost.Cler. You shall pay for't grey-beard.Up, up, you sleep your last else. {Lights above, two Servants{and Anabel.1 Serv. No, not yet, Sir,Lady, look up, would you have wrong'd this Beauty?Wake so tender a Virgin with rough terms?You wear a Sword, we must entreat you leave it.2 Serv. Fye Sir, so sweet a Lady?Cler. Was this my bed-fellow, pray give me leave to look,I am not mad yet, I may be by and by.Did this lye by me?Did I fear this? is this a Cause to shake at?Away with me for shame, I am a Rascal.

Enter Champernel, Beaupre, Verdone, Lamira, Anabel, Cleremont, and two Servants.

Din. I am amaz'd too.Beaup. We'll recover you.Verd. You walk like Robin-good-fellow all the house over,And every man afraid of you.Din. 'Tis well, Lady;The honour of this deed will be your own,The world shall know your bounty.Beaup. What shall we do with 'em?Cler. Geld me,For 'tis not fit I should be a man again,I am an Ass, a Dog.Lam. Take your revenges,You know my Husbands wrongs and your own losses.Anab. A brave man, an admirable brave man;Well, well, I would not be so tryed again;A very handsome proper Gentleman.Cler. Will you let me lye by her but one hour more,And then hang me?Din. We wait your malice, put your swords home bravely,You have reason to seek bloud.Lam. Not as you are noble.Cham. Hands off, and give them liberty, only disarm 'em.Beaup. We have done that already.Cham. You are welcome, Gentlemen,I am glad my house has any pleasure for you,I keep a couple of Ladies here, they say fair,And you are young and handsome, Gentlemen;Have you any more mind to Wenches?Cler. To be abus'd too? Lady, you might have help'd this.Ana. Sir now 'tis past, but 't may be I may standYour friend hereafter, in a greater matter.Cler. Never whilst you live.Ana. You cannot tell—now, Sir, a parting hand.Cler. Down and Roses:Well I may live to see you again. A dull Rogue,No revelation in thee.Lam. Were you well frighted?Were your fitts from the heart, of all colds and colours?That's all your punishment.Cler. It might have been all yours,Had not a block-head undertaken it.Cham. Your swords you must leave to these Gentlemen.Verd. And now, when you dare fight,We are on even Ice again.Din. 'Tis well:To be a Mistris, is to be a monster,And so I leave your house, and you for ever.Lam. Leave your wild lusts, and then you are a master.Cham. You may depart too.Cler. I had rather stay here.Cham. Faith we shall fright you worse.Cler. Not in that manner,There's five hundred Crowns, fright me but so again.Din. Come Cleremont, this is the hour of fool.Cler. Wiser the next shall be or we'll to School.                     [Exeunt.Champ. How coolly these hot gallants are departed!Faith Cousin, 'twas unconscionably done,To lye so still, and so long.Anab. 'Twas your pleasure,If 'twere a fault, I may hereafter mend.Champ. O my best Wife,Take now what course thou wilt, and lead what life.Lam. The more trust you commit, the more care still,Goodness and vertue shall attend my will.Cham. Let's laugh this night out now, and count our gains.We have our honours home, and they their pains.                     [Exeunt omnes.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima

Enter Cleremont, Dinant.

Din. It holds, they will go thither.Cler. To their Summer-house?Din. Thither i'th' evening, and which is the most infliction,Only to insult upon our miseries.Cler. Are you provided?Din. Yes, yes.Cler. Throughly?Din. Throughly.Cler. Basta, enough, I have your mind, I will not fail you.Din. At such an hour.Cler. Have I a memory?A Cause, and Will to do? thou art so sullen—Din. And shall be, till I have a fair reparation.Cler. I have more reason, for I scaped a fortune,Which if I come so near again: I say nothing,But if I sweat not in another fashion—O, a delicate Wench.Din. 'Tis certain a most handsome one.Cler. And me thought the thing was angry with it self tooIt lay so long conceal'd, but I must part with you,I have a scene of mirth, to drive this from my heart,And my hour is come.Din. Miss not your time. Cler. I dare not.                     [Exeunt severally.

Enter Sampson, and a Gentleman.

Gent. I presume, Sir, you now need no instruction,But fairly know, what belongs to a Gentleman;You bear your Uncles cause.Sam. Do not disturb me,I understand my cause, and the right carriage.Gent. Be not too bloody.Sam. As I find my enemy; if his sword bite,If it bite, Sir, you must pardon me.Gent. No doubt he is valiant,He durst not undertake else,Sam. He's most welcome,As he is most valiant, he were no man for me else.Gent. But say he should relent.Sam. He dies relenting,I cannot help it, he must di[e] relenting,If he pray, praying, ipso facto, praying,Your honourable way admits no prayer,And if he fight, he falls, there's his quietus.Gent. Y'are nobly punctual, let's retire and meet 'em,But still, I say, have mercy.Samp. I say, honour.                     [Exeunt.

Enter Champernel, Lamira, Anabel, Beaupre, Verdone, Charlote and a Servant.

Lam. Will not you go sweet-heart?Champ. Go? I'le fly with thee.I stay behind?Lam. My Father will be there too,And all our best friends.Beau. And if we be not merry,We have hard luck, Lady.Verd. Faith let's have a kind of play.Cham. What shall it be?Verd. The story of Dinant.Lam. With the merry conceits of Cleremont,His Fits and Feavers.Ana. But I'le lie still no more. Lam. That, as you make the Play, 'twill be rare sport,And how 'twill vex my gallants, when they hear it!Have you given order for the Coach?Charl. Yes, Madam.Cham. My easie Nag, and padd.Serv. 'Tis making ready.Champ. Where are your Horses?Beau. Ready at an hour, Sir: we'll not be last.Cham. Fie, what a night shall we have!A roaring, merry night.Lam. We'll flie at all, Sir.Cham. I'le flie at thee too, finely, and so ruffle thee,I'le try your Art upon a Country pallet.Lam. Brag not too much, for fear I should expect it,Then if you fail—Cham. Thou saiest too true, we all talk.But let's in, and prepare, and after dinnerBegin our mirthful pilgrimage.Lam. He that's sad,A crab-face'd Mistris cleave to him for this year.                     [Exeunt.

Enter Cleremont, and La-writ.

La-writ. Since it cannot be the Judge—Cler. 'Tis a great deal better.La-writ. You are sure, he is his kinsman? a Gentleman?Cler. As arrant a Gentleman, and a brave fellow,And so near to his blood—La-writ. It shall suffice,I'le set him further off, I'le give a removeShall quit his kindred, I'le lopp him.Cl[e]r. Will ye kill him?La-w. And there were no more Cousins in the world I kill him,I do mean, Sir, to kill all my Lords kindred.For every cause a Cousin.Cler. How if he have no more Cousins?La-writ. The next a kin then to his Lordships favour;The man he smiles upon.Cler. Why this is vengeance, horrid, and dire.La-writ. I love a dire revenge:Give me the man that will all others kill,And last himself,Cler. You stole that resolution.La-writ. I had it in a Play, but that's all one,I wou'd see it done.Cler. Come, you must be more merciful.La-writ. To no Lords Cousins in the world, I hate 'em;A Lords Cousin to me is a kind of Cockatrice,If I see him first, he dies.A strange Antipathy.Cler. What think you of their Nieces?La-writ. If I like 'em,They may live, and multiply; 'tis a cold morning.Cler. 'Tis sharp indeed; you have broke your fast?La-writ. No verily.Cler. Your valour would have ask'd a good foundation.La-writ. Hang him, I'le kill him fasting.

Enter Sampson and the Gent.

Cler. Here they come,Bear your self in your language, smooth and gently,When your swords argue.La-writ. 'Pray Sir, spare your precepts.Gent. I have brought you, Sir—La-writ. 'Tis very well, no words,You are welcome, Sir.Sam. I thank you, Sir, few words.La-writ. I'le kill you for your Uncles sake.Sam. I love you,I'le cut your throat for your own sake.La-writ. I esteem of you.Cler. Let's render 'em honest, and fair, Gentlemen,Search my friend, I'le search yours.Gent. That's quickly done.Cler. You come with no Spells, nor Witchcrafts?Sam. I come fairly to kill him honestly.La-writ. Hang Spells, and Witchcrafts,I come to kill my Lords Nephew like a Gentleman,And so I kiss his hand.Gent. This Doublet is too stiff.La-writ. Off with't, I hate it,And all such fortifications, feel my skin,If that be stiff, flea that off too.Gent. 'Tis no soft one.La-writ. Off with't, I say:I'le fight with him like a flea'd Cat.Gent. You are well, you are well.Cler. You must uncase too.Sam. Yes, Sir.But tell me this, why should I mix mine honourWith a fellow, that has ne're a lace in's shirt?Gent. That's a main point, my friend has two.Cler. That's true, Sir.La-w. Base and degenerate Cousin, dost not thou knowAn old, and tatter'd colours, to the enemy,Is of more honour, and shews more ominous?This shirt, five times, victorious I have fought under,And cut through squadrons of your curious cut-works,As I will do through thine, shake, and be satisfied.Cler. This is unanswerable.Sam. But may I fight with a foul shirt?Gent. Most certain, so it be a fighting shirt,Let it be ne're so foul, or lowsie, Cæsar wore such a one.Sam. Saint Denis then: I accept your shirt.Cler. Not so forward, first you must talk,'Tis a main point, of the French method,Talk civilly, and make your cause Authentick.Gent. No weapon must be near you, nor no anger.Cler. When you have done, then stir your resolutions,Take to your Weapons bravely.La-writ. 'Tis too cold;This for a Summer fight.Cler. Not for a world you should transgress the rules.Sam. 'Tis pievish weather,I had rather fight without.Gent. An 'twere in a River.Cler. Where both stood up to th' chins.La-writ. Then let's talk quickly,Pl– o' this circumstance.Cler. Are the Horses come yet?Gent. Yes certain: give your swords to us, now civilly. Cler. We'll stand a while off; take the things, and leave 'em,You know when, and let the children play:This is a dainty time of year for puppies,Would the old Lord were here.Gent. He would dye with laughter.Cler. I am sorry I have no time to see this game out,Away, away.Gent. Here's like to be a hot fight,Call when y'are fit.                     [Ex. Cler. and Gent.La-writ. Why look you Sir, you seem to be a Gentleman,And you come in honour of your Uncle, boh, boh, 'tis very cold;Your Uncle has offer'd me some few affronts,Past flesh and blood to bear: boh, boh, wondrous cold.Sam. My Lord, mine Uncle, is an honourable man,And what he offers, boh, boh, cold indeed,Having made choice of me, an unworthy kinsman,Yet take me with you: boh, boh, pestilence cold,Not altogether.La-writ. Boh, boh, I say altogether.Sam. You say you know not what then? boh, boh, Sir.La-writ. Sir me with your sword in your hand;You have a scurvy Uncle, you have a most scurvy cause,And you are—boh, boh.Sam. Boh, boh, what?La-writ. A shitten scurvy Cousin.Samp. Our Swords; our Swords;Thou art a Dog, and like a Dog, our Swords.La-w. Our weapons Gentlemen: ha? where's your second?Sam. Where's yours?La-writ. So ho; our weapons.Sam. Wa, ha, ho, our weapons;Our Doublets and our weapons, I am dead.La-w. First, second, third, a pl– be wi' you Gentlemen.Sam. Are these the rules of honour? I am starv'd.La-w. They are gone, and we are here; what shall we do?Sam. O for a couple of Faggots.La-w. Hang a couple of Faggots.Dar'st thou take a killing cold with me?Sam. I have it already.La-w. Rogues, Thieves, boh, boh, run away with our Doublets?To fight at Buffets now, 'twere such a May-game.Sam. There were no honour in't, pl– on't, 'tis scurvy.La-w. Or to revenge my wrongs at fisty-cuffes.Sam. My Lord, mine Uncles cause, depend on Boxes?La-w. Let's go in quest, if we ever recover 'em.Sam. I, come, our Colds together, and our Doublets.La-w. Give me thy hand; thou art a valiant Gentleman,I say if ever we recover 'em—Sam. Let's get into a house and warm our hearts.La-w. There's ne're a house within this mile, beat me,Kick me and beat me as I go, and I'le beat thee too,To keep us warm; if ever we recover 'em—Kick hard, I am frozen: so, so, now I feel it.Sam. I am dull yet.La-w. I'le warm thee, I'le warm thee—Gentlemen?Rogues, Thieves, Thieves: run now I'le follow thee.                     [Exeunt.

Enter Vertaign, Champernel, Beaupre, Verdone, Lamira, Annabel, Charlote, Nurse.

Verta. Use legs, and have legs.Cham. You that have legs say so,I put my one to too much stress.Verdo. Your Horse, Sir,Will meet you within half a mile.Lam. I likeThe walk so well, I should not miss my Coach,Though it were further. Annabel thou art sad:What ails my Niece?Beau. She's still musing, Sister,How quietly her late bed-fellow lay by her.Nurse. Old as I am, he would have startled me,Nor can you blame her.Char. Had I ta'ne her place,I know not, but I fear, I should ha' shreek'd,Though he had never offer'd—Ana. Out upon thee,Thou wouldst have taught him.Char. I think, with your pardon,That you wish now you had.Ana. I am glad I yield you                     [Cornet.Such ample scope of mirth.                     [Musick within.Verta. Nay, be not angry,There's no ill meant: ha? Musick, and choice Musick?Cham. 'Tis near us in the Grove; what courteous bountyBestows it on us? my dancing days are done;Yet I would thank the giver, did I know him.Verdo. 'Tis questionless, some one of your own Village,That hearing of your purpos'd journey thither,Prepares it for your entertainment, andThe honour of my Lady.Lam. I think rather,Some of your Lordships Clients.Beaup. What say you Cousin,If they should prove your Suitors?Verd. That's most likely.Nurse. I say if you are noble, be't who will,Go presently and thank 'em: I can jump yet,Or tread a measure.Lam. Like a Millers Mare.Nurs. I warrant you well enough to serve the Country,I'le make one, and lead the way.                     [Exit.Charl. Do you note,How zealous the old Crone is?Lam. And you titterAs eagerly as she: come sweet, we'll follow,No ill can be intended.                     [Musick ends.Cham. I ne're feared yet.                     [Exeunt.SONG in the WoodThis way, this way come and hear,You that hold these pleasures dear,Fill your ears with our sweet sound,Whilst we melt the frozen ground:This way come, make haste oh fair,Let your clear eyes gild the Air;Come and bless us with your sight,This way, this way, seek delight.

Enter company of Gentlemen, like Ruffians.

1 Gent. They are ours, but draw them on a little furtherFrom the foot-path into the neighbouring thicket,And we may do't, as safe as in a Castle.2 Gent. They follow still; the President VertaigneComes on a pace, and Champernel limps after;The Women, as if they had wings, and walk'tUpon the Air, fly to us.1 Gent. They are welcome,We'll make 'em sport; make a stand here, all knowHow we are to proceed.2 Gent. We are instructed.                     [Still Musick within.1 Gent. One strain or two more.                     [Gent. off.

Enter Vertaigne, Champernel, Beaupre, Verdone, Lamira, Anabel, Nurse, Charlote.

Excellent, they are come.Nurse. We cannot miss, in such a business, yetMine ear ne'r fail'd me.                     [Musick for the Dance.Charl. Would we were at it once,I do not walk, but Dance.1 Gent. You shall have dancing.Begin, and when I give the word—2 Gent. No more:We are instructed.                     [Dance.Beaupre. But win us fairly—1 Gent. O Sir, we do not come to try your valour,But to possess you, yet we use you kindlyIn that, like English Thieves, we kill you not,But are contented with the spoil.Verta. Oh Heaven!How hath mine age deserv'd this?Cham. Hell confound it,This comes of walking; had I kept my legs,Or my good Horse, my Armour on,My Staff in my rest, and this good Sword too, friend,How I would break and scatter these.All Gent. Ha, ha, ha.Cham. Do you scorn me Rogues?Nurs. Nay, Gentlemen, kind Gentlemen,Or honest keepers of these woods, but hear me,Be not so rough; if you are taken withMy beauty, as it hath been worth the seeking,Some one or two of you try me in private,You shall not find me squeamish.Charl. Do not kill me,And do your worst, I'le suffer.Lam. Peace vile creatures.Vert. Do you know me, or my place, that you presume notTo touch my person?1 Gent. If you are well, rest so,Provoke not angry Wasps.Verta. You are Wasps indeed,Never created to yield Wax or Honey,But for your Countries torment; yet if you are men,(As you seem such in shape) if true born French-men,However want compels you to these courses,Rest satisfied with what you can take from us,(These Ladies honours, and our liberties safe)We freely give it.1 Gent. You give but our own.Verta. Look on these grey hairs, as you would be old,Their tears, as you would have yours to find mercyWhen Justice shall o'retake you.Cham. Look on me,Look on me Rascals, and learn of me too,That have been in some part of your profession,Before that most of you ere suck'd, I know it,I have rode hard, and late too.Verta. Take heed, Sir.Cham. Then use me like a Brother of the Trade,For I have been at Sea, as you on land are,Restore my Matrimony undefil'd,Wrong not my Neece, and for our gold or silver,If I pursue you, hang me.Nurs. 'Tis well offer'd,And as I said, sweet Gentlemen, with sowre faces,If you are high, and want some sport, or so,(As living without action here, you may do)Forbear their tender grissels, they are meatWill wash away, there is no substance in it,We that are expert in the game, and tough too,Will hold you play.

Enter Dinant and Cleremont.

1 Gent. This Hen longs to be troden.Din. Lackey, my Horse.Cler. This way, I heard the criesOf distress'd Women.2 Gent. Stand upon your guard.Din. Who's here? my witty, scornful Lady-plotIn the hands of Ruffians?Cler. And my fine cold virgin,That was insensible of man, and woman?Din. Justice too,Without a sword to guard it self?Cler. And valour with its hands bound?Din. And the great Souldier dull?Why this is strange.Lam. Dinant as thou art noble—Ana. As thou art valiant Cleremont—Lam. As ever I appear'd lovely—Ana. As you ever hopeFor what I would give gladly—Cler. Pretty conjurations.Lam. All injuries a little laid behind you.Ana. Shew your selves men, and help us.Din. Though your manyAnd gross abuses of me should more move meTo triumph in your miseries than relieve you,—Yet that hereafter you may know that IThe scorn'd and despis'd Dinant, know what doesBelong to honour, thus—Cler. I will say little,                     [Fight.Speak thou for me.Cham. 'Tis bravely fought.Verta. Brave tempers,To do thus for their enemies.Cham. They are lost yet.1 Gent. You that would rescue others, shall now feelWhat they were born to.2 Gent. Hurry them away.                     [Ex. Manent Vert. and Champernel.Cham. That I could follow them.Verta. I only can lament my fortune, and desire of heavenA little life for my revenge.Cham. The ProvostShall fire the woods, but I will find 'em out,No cave, no rock, nor hell shall keep them fromMy searching vengeance.

Enter La-writ, and Sampson.

La-writ. O cold! O fearfull cold! plague of all seconds.Samp. O for a pint of burnt wine, or a sipOf aqua-fortis.Cham. The rogues have met with these twoUpon my life and rob'd 'em.La-writ. As you are honourable Gentlemen,Impart unto a couple of cold combatants.Sam. My Lord, mine uncle as I live.La-writ. Pox take him.How that word has warm'd my mouth!Verta. Why how now Cousin?Why, why? and where man, have you been? at a PoultersThat you are cas'd thus like a rabbet? I could laugh now,And I shall laugh, for all I have lost my Children,Laugh monstrously.Cham. What are they?Verta. Give me leave Sir,Laugh more and more, never leave laughing.Cham. Why Sir?Verta. Why 'tis such a thing I smell it Sir, I smell it,Such a ridiculous thing,—La-writ. Do you laugh at me my Lord?I am very cold, but that should not be laught at.Cham. What art thou?La-writ. What art thou?Sam. If he had his doublet.—And his sword by his side, as a Gentleman ought to have.Verta. Peace Monsieur Sampson.Cham. Come hither little Gentleman.La-writ. Base is the slave commanded: come to me.Verta. This is the little advocate. Cham. What advocate?Verta. The little advocate that sent me a challenge,I told you that my Nephew undertook it,And what 'twas like to prove: now you see the issue.Cham. Is this the little Lawyer?La-writ. You have a sword Sir,And I have none, you have a doublet tooThat keeps you warm, and makes you merry.Sam. If your Lordship knewThe nature, and the nobleness of the Gentleman,Though he shew slight here, and at what gusts of dangerHis manhood has arrived,But thatMens fates are foolish,And often headlong overrun their fortunes.La-writ. That little Lawyer would so prick his ears up,And bite your honour by the nose.Cham. Say you so Sir?La-writ. So niggle about your grave shins Lord Verta[ig]ne too.Sam. No more sweet Gentleman, no more of that Sir.La-writ. I will have more, I must have more.Verta. Out with it.Sam. Nay he is as brave a fellow.—Cham. Have I caught you?                     [Strikes him down.Verta. Do not kill him, do not kill him.Cham. No, no, no, I will not. Do you peep again?Down down proud heart.Sam. O valour,Look up brave friend, I have no means to rescue thee,My Kingdom for a sword.Cham. I'le sword you presently,I'le claw your skin coat too.Verta. Away good Sampson,You go to grass else instantly.Sam. But do not murder my brave friend.Verta. Not one word.Cham. If you do sirra—Sam. Must I goe off dishonour'd?Adversity tries valour, so I leave thee.                     [Exit.Cham. Are you a Lawyer Sir?La-writ. I was, I was Sir.Cham. Nay never look, your Lawyers pate is broken,And your litigious blood about your ears sirra,Why do you fight and snarle?La-writ. I was possest.Cham. I'le dispossess you.Verta. Ha, ha, ha.La-writ. Et tu Brute?Verta. Beat him no more.Cham. Alas Sir I must beat him,Beat him into his business again, he will be lost else.Verta. Then take your way.Cham. Ly still, and doe not struggle.La-writ. I am patient,I never saw my blood before, it jades me,I have no more heart now than a goose.Cham. Why sirra, why do you leave your trade, your trade of living,And send your challenges like thunderbolts,To men of honour'd place?La-writ. I understand Sir,I never understood before your beating.Cham. Does this work on you?La-writ. Yes.Cham. Do you thank me for't?La-writ. As well as a beaten man can.Cham. And do you promise me,To fall close to your trade again? leave brawling?La-writ. If you will give me leave and life.Cham. And ask this noble man forgiveness?La-writ. Heartily.Cham. Rise then, and get you gone, and let me hear of youAs of an advocate new vampt; no more words,Get you off quickly, and make no murmurs,I shall pursue you else.La-writ. I have done sweet Gentlemen.                     [Exit.Verta. But we forget our selves, our friends and Children.Cham. We'l raise the country first, then take our fortunes.                     [Exeunt.

Enter one Gentleman, and Lamira.