Читать книгу The Little French Lawyer: A Comedy - Beaumont Francis - Страница 3

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.

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.

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.

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.

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;