The Little French Lawyer Part 17

_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 fas.h.i.+on-- O, a delicate Wench.

_Din._ 'Tis certain a most handsome one.

_Cler._ And me thought the thing was angry with it self too It 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 b.l.o.o.d.y.

_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 n.o.bly 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?