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?