 | The Little French Lawyer |  |
66
Actus quarti.
Scena Prima.
Enter Cleremont Dinant.Din.
It holds, they will goe thither.
Cler.
To their Summer house?
Din.
Thither i'th' evening and which is the most infliction,
Onely to insult upon our miseries.
Cler.
Are you provided?
Din.
Yes, yes.
Cler.
Throughly?
Din.
Throughly.
Cler.
Basta, enough, I have your mind, I wil not faile you.
Din.
At such an houre.
Cler.
Have I a memorie?
A Cause, and Will to doe? thou art so sullen—
Din.
And shall be, till I have a faire reparation.
Cler.
I have more reason, for I scaped a fortune,
Which if I come so neare againe: I say nothing,
But if I sweat not in another fashion—
O, a delicate Wench.
Din.
'Tis certaine a most handsome one.
Cle.
And me thought the thing was angry with it self too
It lay so long conceald but I must part with you.
I have a scene of mirth, to drive this from my heart,
And my houre is come.
Din.
Misse not your time.
Cler.
I dare not.
Exeunt severally.
Enter Sampson and a Gentleman.
Gent.
I presume, sir, you now need no instruction,
But fairely know, what belongs to a Gentleman;
You beare your Uncles cause.
Sam.
Doe not disturbe 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.
Hee's most welcome,
As he is most valiant, he were no man for me else.
Gent.
But say he should relent.
Sam.
Hee dies relenting.
I cannot helpe it, he must die 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 punctuall, let's retire and meet 'em,
But still I say, have mercy.
Samp.
I say, honour.
Exeunt.
Enter Champernell, Lamira, Anabell, Beaupre, Verdoone, Charlote and a servant.
Lam.
Will not you goe sweet-heart?
Cham.
Goe? I'le fly with thee,
I stay behind?
Lam.
My Father will be there too,
And all our best friends,
Beaup.
And if we be not merry,
We have hard lucke, 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 fitts and Fevers.
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 heare 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 houre, sir: we'll not be last.
Cham.
Fy, what a night shall we have?
A roaring merry night.
Lam.
We'll fly at all, sir.
Cham.
I'le fly at thee too, finely, and so ruffle thee
I'le try your Art, upon a Country pallet.
Lam.
Brag not too much, for feare I should expect it,
Then if you faile—
Cham.
Thou saiest too true, we all talke,
But let's in, and prepare, and after dinner
Begin our mirthfull pilgrimage.
Lam.
He that's sad,
A crab-fac'd Mistris cleave to him for this yeare.
Exeunt.
Enter Cleremont, and La-writ.
La-writ.
Since it cannot be the Judge—
Cler.
'Tis a great deale better.
La-writ.
You are sure, he is his kinsman? a gentleman?
Cler.
As arrant a gentleman, and a brave fellow,
And so neare to his blood—
La-writ.
It shall suffice,
I'le set him further off, I'le give a remove
Shall quit his kindred, I'le lopp him.
Cler.
Will ye kill him?
La-w.
And there were no more cosins in the world I kil 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 himselfe,
Cler.
You stole that resolution.
La-writ.
I had it in a Play, but that's all one,
I woo'd see it done.
Cler.
Come, you must be more mercifull.
La-writ.
To no Lords cosins in the world, I hate 'em;
A Lords cosin to me is a kind of Cocatrice,
If I see him first, he dies.
A strange Antipathy,
Cler.
What think you of their Neeces?
La-writ.
If I like 'em,
They may live, and multiply; 'tis a cold morning.
Cler.
'Tis sharpe 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,
Beare your selfe 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,
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Sam.
I thanke 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 owne sake.
La-writ.
I esteeme of you.
Cler.
Let's render 'em honest, and faire, gentlemen,
Search my friend, I'le search yours.
Gent.
That's quickly done.
Cler.
You come with no spells, nor witchcrafts?
Sam.
I come fairely to kill him honestly.
La-writ.
Hang Spells, and Witchcrafts,
I come to kill my Lords Nephew like a gentleman,
And so I kisse his hand.
Gent.
This doublet is too stiffe.
La-writ.
Off woo't, I hate it,
And all such fortifications, feele my skin,
If that be stiffe, flea that off too.
Gent.
'Tis no soft one.
La-wr.
Off, woo't, I say:
I'le fight with him, like a flead Catt.
Gent.
You are well, you are well.
Put off.
Cler.
You must uncase too.
Sam.
Yes, sir.
But tell me this, why should I mix mine honour
With a fellow, that has ne'r a lace in's shirt?
Gent.
That's a maine point, my friend has two.
Cler.
That's true, sir.
La-w.
Base and degenerate cousin, doest not thou know
An old, and tatter'd colours, to the enemy,
Is of more honour, and shewes more ominous?
This shirt, five times, victorious I have fought under,
And cut through squadrons, of your curious Cut-workes,
As I will doe through thine, shake, and be satisfied.
Cler.
This is unanswerable.
Sam.
But may I fight, with a foule shirt?
Gent.
Most certaine, so it be a fighting shirt,
Let it be ne'r so foule, or lowsie, Cæsar wore such a one.
Sam.
Saint Denis then: I accept your shirt.
Cler.
Not so forward, first you must talke,
'Tis a maine point, of the French method,
Talke civilly, and make your cause Authentique.
Gent.
No weapon must be neare 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 transgresse the rules.
Sam.
'Tis peevish 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 talke quickly,
Pl--- o' this circumstance.
Cler.
Are the Horses come yet?
Gent.
Yes certaine: give your swords to us, now civilly.
Cler.
We'll stand a while off; take the things, & leave 'em,
You know when and let the children play:
This is a dainty time of yeare for puppies,
Would the old Lord were here.
Gent.
He would dy 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 beare: 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, pestlence cold,
Not altogether.
La-wr.
Boh, boh, I say altogether.
Sam.
You say you know not what then: boh, boh, sir.
La-w.
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? wher'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.
Firsts? second? third? a pl--- be woo '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-writ.
Hang a couple of faggots;
Dar'st thou take a killing cold with me?
Sam.
I have it already.
La-writ.
Rogues theeves, boh, boh, run away with our Doublets?
To fight at Buffets now, 'twere such a May-game.
Sam.
There were no honour in't, p---on't, 'tis scurvy.
La-wr.
Or to revenge my wrongs at fisty-cuffes.
Sam.
My Lord, mine Uncles cause, depend on Boxes?
La-wr.
Let's goe in quest, if ever we 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 warme our hearts.
La-writ.
There's ne'r a house within this mile beat me,
Kick me, and beat me as I goe, and I'le beat thee too,
To keepe us warme; if ever we recover 'em—
Kick hard, I am frozen: so, so, now I feele it.
Sam.
I am dull yet.
La-w.
I'le warme thee I'le warme thee.—Gentlemen,
Rogues, theeves theeves: run, now I'le follow thee.
Exeūt.
Enter Vertaigne, Champernell, Beaupre, Verdoone, Lamira, Annabell, Charlote, Nurse.
Verta.
Use legs, and have legs.
Cham.
You that have legs say so,
I put my one to too much stresse.
Verdo.
Your herse, sir,
Will meet you within halfe a mile,
Lam.
I like
The walke so well, I should not misse my Coach,
Though it were further. Annabell thou art sad:
What ayles my Niece?
Beau.
Shee's still devising, 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.
Charl.
Had I ta'ne her place.
I know not, but I feare, I should ha' shreek'd,
Though he had never offer'd—
Ana.
Out upon thee,
Thou wouldst have taught him.
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I thinke, with your pardon,
That you wish now you had.
Ana.
I am glad, I yeild you
Cornet.
Such ample scope of mirth.
Musicke within.
Verta.
Nay, be not angrie,
There's no ill meant: ha? Musique, and choice musique?
Cham.
'Tis near us in the Grove what courteous bounty
Bestowes it on us? my dancing daies are done;
Yet I would thanke the giver, did I know him.
Verdo.
'Tis questionlesse, some one of your own Village,
That hearing of your purpos'd journey thither,
Prepares it for your entertainment, and
The honour of my Lady.
Lam.
I thinke rather,
Some of your Lordships Clyents.
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;
Goe presently and thanke '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.
Doe you note,
How zealous the old Crone is?
Lam.
And you titter
As eagerly as she: come sweet, we'll follow,
No ill can be intended.
Mus. ends.
Cham.
I ne'r fear'd yet.
Exeunt.
Song in the Wood.
This way, this way, come and heare,
You that hold, these pleasures deare,
Fill your eares, with our sweet sound,
Whilst we melt the frozen ground:
This way come, make hast ô faire,
Let your cleare eyes gild the ayer;
Come and blesse us with your sight,
This way, this way seeke delight.
Enter a company of Gentlemen, like Ruffians.
1 Gent.
They are ours but draw them on a little further
From 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, Vertaigne
Comes on a-pace, and Champernell limps after;
The women, as if they had wings, and walk't
Upon the ayre, fly to us.
1 Gent.
They are welcome,
We'll make 'em sport; make a stand here, all know
How we are to proceed.
2 Gen.
We are instructed.
Still Musick within.
1 Gent.
One straine or two more.
Gent. off.
Enter Vertaigne, Champernell, Beaupre Verdoone, Lamira, Anabell, Nurse, Charlote.
Excellent, they are come,
Nurse.
We cannot misse, in such a businesse, yet
Mine eare ne'r fail'd me.
Musick for the Dance.
Charl.
Would we were at it once,
I doe not walke, but dance.
1 Gen.
You shall have dancing.
Lam.
Begin and when I give the word—
2 Gent.
No more.
We are instructed.
Dance.
Beaupre.
But win us fairely—
Now.
1 Gent.
O sir, We do not come to try your valour,
But to possess you, yet we use you kindly
In that, like English theeves, wee kill you not,
But are contented with the spoile.
Verta.
Oh heaven!
How hath mine age deserv'd this?
Cham.
Hell confound it,
This comes of walking; had I kept my legs,
My legs in my good house, my Armour on,
My Staffe in my rest, and this good sword too, friend,
How I would breake and scatter these.
All Gent.
Ha, ha, ha.
Cham.
Doe you scorne me rogues?
Nurs.
Nay, Gentlemen, kind gentlemen,
Or honest keepers of these woods, but heare me,
Be not so rough; if you are taken with
My beauty, as it hath bin worth the seeking,
Some one or two of you, try me in private,
You shall not find me squeamish.
Charl.
Doe not kill me,
And doe your worst, I'le suffer.
Lam.
Peace vile creatures.
Vert.
Do you know me, or my place that you presume not
To touch my person?
1 Gent.
If you are well, rest so,
Provoke not angry waspes.
Verta.
You are Waspes indeed,
Never created to yeild Wax, or honey,
But for your Countries torment, yet are, if men,
As you seeme such in shape, if true borne French-men,
How ever want compells you to these courses,
Rest satisfied with what you can take from us,
(These Ladies honours, and our liberties safe)
VVe freely give it.
1 Gent.
You give but our owne.
Verta.
Looke on these grey haires, as you would be old,
Their teares, as you would have yours to find mercy,
VVhen Justice shall o'retake you.
Cham.
Looke on me,
Looke on me rascalls, and learne of me too,
That have bin 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,
VVrong 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 doe)
Forbeare their tender grissells, they are meare
VVill wash away, there is no substance in it,
VVe that are expert in the game, and tough to,
VVill 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 cries
Of distress'd women.
2 Gent.
Stand upon your guard.
Din.
VVho's here? my witty, scornfull Lady-plot?
69
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 hope,
For what I would give gladly—
Cler.
Pretty conjurations,
Lam.
All injuries, a little laied behind you
Ana,
Shew your selves men, and help us
Din.
Though your many
And grosse abuses of me, should more move me
To triumph in your miseries then releive you,—
Yet that hereafter, you may know that I
The scorne and despis'd Dinant, knows what does.
Belong to honour, thus—
Cler.
I will say little,
Fight.
Speake thou for me,
Cham.
'Tis bravely fought,
Verta.
Brave tempers,
To doe thus for their enemies.
Cham.
They are lost yet,
1 Gen.
You that would rescue others, shall now feele
What they were borne to,
2 Gen.
Hurry them away.
Exit. Manent Vertaigne, and Champernell.
Cham.
That I could follow them,
Verta.
I only can lament my fortune, and desire of heaven
A little life for my revenge.
Cham.
The provost,
Shall fire the woods, but I will find e'm out,
No cave, no rocke, nor hell shall keepe them from
My searching vengeance.
Enter La-writ and Sampson.
La-wr.
O cold! o fearfull cold! plague of all seconds,
Sam.
O for a pint of burnt wine, or a sip
Of aqua fortis.
Cham.
The rogues have met with these two
Upon my life and robd 'em
La. Wr.
As you are honourable Gentlemen,
Impart unto a couple of cold combatants,
Sam.
My Lord, mine uncle as I live,
La-wr.
Pox take him.
How that word, has warm'd my mouth?
Verta.
Why how now Cousen?
Why, why? and where man, have you bin? at a Poulters
That you are cass'd thus like a rabbet? I could laugh now,
And I shall laugh, for all I have lost my Children,
Laugh monstruously
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-wr.
Do you laugh at me my Lord?
I am very cold, but that should not be laught at,
Cham.
What art thou?
La-wr.
What art thou?
Sam.
If he had his doublet.—
And his sword by his side, as a Gentleman ought to have
Ver.
Peace Mounsier Sampson.
Cham.
Come hither little Gentleman,
La wr.
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 under tooke it,
And what t'was like to prove: now you see the issue.
Cham.
Is this the little Lawyer?
La. wr.
You have a sword Sir,
And I have none, you have a doublet too,
That keepes you warme, and makes you merry,
Sam.
If your Lordship knew.
The nature, and the noblenesse of the Gentleman,
Though he shew sleight here, & at what gusts of danger
His manhood has arrived,
La-wr.
Bee't then.
Mens faces are foolish,
And often head long, over run their fortunes,
Sam.
That little Lawyer, would so pricke his eares up,
And bite your honour by the nose.
Cham.
Say you so Sir?
La-wr.
So niggle about your grave shins Lord Vertaigne too
Sam.
No more sweet Gentleman, no more of that Sir,
La-wr.
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?
Strike him downe.
Verta.
Doe not kill him, doe not kill him.
No no, no, I will not
Cham.
Doe you peepe againe, downe downe proud heart
Sam.
O valour,
Looke up brave friend, I have no meanes to rescue thee,
My Kingdome for a sword,
Cham.
I'll sword you presently,
I'll claw your skin-coate too.
Verta.
Away good Samson,
You goe to grasse els instantly,
Sam.
But doe not murder my brave friend
Vert.
Not one word,
Cham.
If you doe sirra,—
Sam.
Must I goe off dishonour'd?
Adversity tries valour, so I leave thee.
Exit.
Cham.
Are you a Lawyer Sir?
La-Wr.
I was, I was Sir,
Cham.
Nay never looke, your Lawyers pate is broken
And your litigious blood, about your eares sirra,
Why doe you fight and snarle?
La.Wr.
I was possest.
Cham.
Ile disposesse you.
Vert.
Ha ha ha.
La-Wr.
Et tu Brute.
Vert.
Beate him no more.
Cham.
Alas Sir I must beate him,
Beate him into his businesse agen, he will be lost els.
Vert.
Then take your way,
Cham.
Ly still, and doe not struggle,
La-Wr.
I am patient,
I never saw my blood before, it jades me,
I have no more heart now then 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-wr.
I understand Sir,
I never understood, before your beating,
70
Does this worke on you?
La-wr.
Yes.
Cham.
Doe you thanke me for't?
La-wr.
As well as a beaten man can,
Cham.
And doe you promise me.
To fall close to your trade againe? leave brawling
La-wr.
If you will give me leave and life,
Cham.
And aske this noble man forgivenesse?
La-Wr.
Hartily.
Cham.
Rise then, and get you gone and let me heare of you
As of an Advocate new vampt; no more words,
Get you off quickly, and make no murmurs
I shall pursue you else,
La-Wr.
I have done sweet Gentlemen.
Exit.
Vert.
But we forget our selves, our Friends and Children
Cham.
Wee'l raise the coūtry first, then take our fortunes.
Exeunt.
Enter one Gent. and Lamira.
1 Gent.
Shall I entereate for what I may command?
Lam.
Thinke on my birth,
1 Gent.
Here I am only Noble.
A King, and thou in my dominions foole,
A subject and a slave.
Lam.
Be not a Tyrant;
A ravisher of honour, gentle Sir,
And I will thinke ye such, and on my knees,
As to my Soveraigne, pay a Subjects duty,
With prayers and teares,
1 Gent.
I like this humble carriage.
I will walke by, but kneele you still and weepe too,
It shewes well, while I meditate on the prey,
Before I seize it.
Lam.
Is there no mercie, heaven?
Enter second Gent. and Anabell.
2 Gent.
Not kisse you?
I will kisse and kisse againe,
Ana.
Savage villaine!
My Innocence be my strength, I doe defie thee,
Thus scorne and spit at thee; will you come on Sir,
You are hot, there is a cooler,
2 Gen.
A virago?
Ana.
No, lothsome Goate, more, more I am that Goddesse,
That here with whippes of steele in hell hereafter
Scourge rape and theft,
2 Gen.
I'll try your deity,
Ana.
My chastity, and this knife held by a Virgin,
Against thy lust thy sword and thee a Beast.
Call on for the encounter.
2 Gen.
Now what thinke you?
Throwes her and takes. her Knife.
Are you a Goddesse?
Ana.
In me their power suffers,
That should protect the Innocent,
1 Gent.
I am all fire,
And thou shall quench it, and serve my pleasures,
Come partner in the spoile and the reward,
Let us enjoy our purchase
Lam.
O Dinant!
O Heaven! o Husband!
Ana.
O my Cleremont!
1 Gent.
Two are our slaves they call on, bring 'em forth
As they are chaind together let them see
And suffer in the object.
Enter Dinant and Cleremont bound. By the rest of the Gent.
2 Gen.
While we sit
And without pitty heare 'em
Cler.
By my life,
I suffer more for thee then for my self,
Din.
Be a man Cleremont, and looke upon 'em,
As such that not alone abus'd our service,
Fed us with hopes most bitter indigestion,
But when love faild, to draw on further mischief,
The baites they laied for us; were our owne honours,
Which thus hath made us slaves too, worse then slaves
2 Gen.
He dies
1 Gen.
Pray hold, give him a little respite,
Din.
I see you now beyond expression wretched,
The wit you bragd of, foold, that boasted honour,
As you beleev'd compass'd with walls of brasse,
To guard it sure, Subject to be o're throwne
With the least blast of lust.
Lam.
A most sad truth.
Din.
That confidence which was not to be shaken
In a perpetuall fever, and those favours,
Which with so strong, and Ceremonious duty
Your lover and a Gentleman long sought for,
Sought, sued, and kneeld in vaine for, must you yeild up
To a licentious villaine, that will hardly,
Allow you thanks for't
Cler.
Something I must say too,
And to you pretty one, though crying one;
To be hangd now, when these worshipful benchers please
Though I know not their faces that condemne me,
A little startles me, but a man is nothing,
A Maydenhead is the thing, the thing all aime at;
Doe not you wish now, and wish from your heart too,
When scarce sweet with my feares, I long lay by you
Those feares you and your good Aunt put upon me,
To make you sport you had giuen a little hint,
A touch or so, to tell me I was mortall,
And by a mortall woman?
Ana.
Pray you no more
Cler.
If I had loos'd that virgin Zone, observe me,
I would have hired the best of all our Poets
To have sung so much, and so well in the honour
Of that nights joye, that Ovids afternoone,
Nor his Corvina should againe be mentioned,
Ana.
I doe repent, and wish I had,
Cler.
That's comfort,
But now.—
2 Gent.
Another that will have it offer'd,
Compell it to be offer'd, shall enjoye it.
Cler.
A rogue, a ruffian.
2 Gen.
As you love your throat,—
1 Gen.
Away with them.
Ana.
O Cleremont!
Lam.
O Dinant!
Din.
I can but add your sorrowes to my sorrowes,
Your feares to my feares.
Cler.
To your wishes mine.
This slave may prove unable to performe,
Till I performe the taske that I was borne for,
Ana.
Amen, amen.
1 Gent.
Drag the slaves hence, for you
A while i'll locke you up here study all wayes
You can to please me, or the deed being done,
You are but dead.
2 Gen.
This strong vault shall conteine you
There thinke how many for your maydenhead
Have pin'd away, and be prepared to loose it
With penitence.
1 Gent.
No humane help can save you.
Ladyes.
Helpe, helpe?
71
You cry in vaine, rockes cannot heare you.
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