The Little French Lawyer Part 18

_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 dinner Begin 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 remove Shall 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 Lords.h.i.+ps 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 c.o.c.katrice, 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.