The Little French Lawyer Part 27

_Din._ Rather than enjoy you With your consent, because I will torment you; I'le make you feel the effects of abus'd love, And glory in your torture.

_Lam._ Brother, Nephew, Help, help, for Heavens sake.

_Din._ Tear your throat, cry louder, Though every leaf, these trees bear, were an Echo, And summon'd in your best friends to redeem you, It should be fruitless: 'tis not that I love you, Or value those delights you prize so high, That I'le enjoy you, a French crown will buy More sport, and a companion, to whom, You in your best trim are an Ethiop.

_Lam._ Forbear me then.

_Din._ Not so, I'le do't in spite, And break that stubborn disobedient will, That hath so long held out, that boasted honour I will make equal with a common Wh.o.r.es; The spring of Chast.i.ty, that fed your pride, And grew into a River of vain glory, I will defile with mudd, the mudd of l.u.s.t, And make it loathsome even to goats.

_Lam._ O Heaven!

No pity Sir?

_Din._ You taught me to be cruel, And dare you think of mercy? I'le tell thee fool, Those that surpriz'd thee, were my instruments, I can plot too good Madam, you shall find it: And in the stead of licking of my fingers, Kneeling and whining like a boy new breech'd, To get a toy forsooth, not worth an apple, Thus make my way, and with Authority Command what I would have.

_Lam._ I am lost for ever: Good Sir, I do confess my fault, my gross fault, And yield my self up, miserable guilty; Thus kneeling I confess, you cannot study Sufficient punishments to load me with; I am in your power, and I confess again, You cannot be too cruel: if there be, Besides the loss of my long guarded honour, Any thing else to make the ballance even, Pray put it in, all hopes, all helpes have left me; I am girt round with sorrow, h.e.l.l's about me, And ravishment the least that I can look for, Do what you please.

_Din._ Indeed I will do nothing, Nor touch nor hurt you Lady, nor had ever Such a lewd purpose.

_Lam._ Can there be such goodness, And in a man so injur'd?

_Din._ Be confirm'd in't.

I seal it thus: I must confess you vex'd me, In fooling me so often, and those fears You threw upon me call'd for a requital, Which now I have return'd, all unchast love _Dinant_ thus throws away; live to man-kind, As you have done to me, and I will honour Your vertue, and no more think of your beauty.

_Lam._ All I possess, comes short of satisfaction.

_Din._ No complements: the terrours of this night Imagine but a fearfull dream, and so With ease forget it: for _Dinant_, that labour'd To blast your honour, is a Champion for it, And will protect and guard it.

_Lam._ 'Tis as safe then, As if a compleat Army undertook it. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ La-writ, Sampson, _Clyents._

_La-writ._ Do not perswade me gentle Monsieur _Sampson_, I am a mortal man again, a Lawyer, My martiall part I have put off.

_Sam._ Sweet Monsieur, Let but our honours teach us.

_La-writ._ Monsieur _Sampson_, My honourable friend, my valiant friend, Be but so beaten, forward my brave Clients, I am yours, and you are mine again, be but so thrasht, Receive that Castigation with a cudgel.

_Sam._ Which calls upon us for a Reparation.

_La-writ._ I have, it cost me half a crown, I bear it All over me, I bear it Monsieur _Sampson_; The oyls, and the old woman that repairs to me, To 'noint my beaten body.

_Sam._ It concerns you, You have been swing'd.

_La-writ._ Let it concern thee too; Goe and be beaten, speak scurvy words, as I did, Speak to that Lion Lord, waken his anger, And have a hundred Bastinado's, doe; Three broken pates, thy teeth knockt out, do _Sampson_, Thy valiant arms and leggs beaten to Poultesses, Do silly _Sampson_, do.

_1 Cly._ You wrong the Gentleman, To put him out of his right mind thus: You wrong us, and our Causes.

_La-writ._ Down with him Gentlemen, Turn him, and beat him, if he break our peace, Then when thou hast been Lam'd, thy small guts perisht, Then talk to me, before I scorn thy counsel, Feel what I feel, and let my Lord repair thee.

_Sam._ And can the brave _La-writ_--

_2 Cly._ Tempt him no further, Be warn'd and say no more.

_La-writ._ If thou doest, _Sampson_, Thou seest my Mirmidons, I'le let 'em loose, That in a moment--

_Sam._ I say nothing, Sir, but I could wish--

_La-writ._ They shall destroy thee wis.h.i.+ng; There's ne'r a man of these, but have lost ten causes, Dearer then ten mens lives; tempt, and thou diest: Goe home, and smile upon my Lord, thine Uncle, Take Mony of the men thou mean'st to Cousin, Drink Wine, and eat good meat, and live discreetly, Talk little, 'tis an antidote against a beating; Keep thy hand from thy sword, and from thy Laundress placket, And thou wilt live long.

_1 Cly._ Give ear, and be instructed.

_La-writ._ I find I am wiser than a Justice of Peace now, Give me the wisdom that's beaten into a man That sticks still by him: art thou a new man?

_Sam._ Yes, yes, Thy learned precepts have inchanted me.

_La-writ._ Goe my son _Sampson_, I have now begot thee, I'le send thee causes; speak to thy Lord, and live, And lay my share by, goe and live in peace, Put on new suits, and shew fit for thy place; That man neglects his living, is an a.s.se: [_Exit_ Samp.

Farewel; come chearily boyes, about our business, Now welcom tongue again, hang Swords.

_1 Cly._ Sweet Advocate. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Nurse, _and_ Charlote.

_Nur._ I know not wench, they may call 'em what they will, Outlawes, or thieves, but I am sure, to me One was an honest man, he us'd me well, What I did, 'tis no matter, he complain'd not.

_Char._ I must confess, there was one bold with me too, Some coy thing would say rude, but 'tis no matter, I was to pay a Waiting womans ransom, And I have don't, and I would pay't again, Were I ta'n to morrow.

_Nur._ Alas, there was no hurt, If 't be a sin for such as live at hard meat, And keep a long Lent, in the woods as they do, To taste a little flesh.

_Char._ G.o.d help the Courtiers, That lye at rack and manger.

_Nur._ I shall love A thief the better for this while I live, They are men of a charitable vocation, And give where there is need, and with discretion, And put a good speed penny in my purse, That has been empty twenty years.

_Char._ Peace Nurse, Farewel, and cry not rost meat, me thinks _Cleremont_ And my Lady _Anabel_ are in one night, Familiarly acquainted.

_Nur._ I observe it, If she have got a penny too.

_Enter_ Vertaign, Champernel, _and_ Provost.

_Charl._ No more, My Lord Monsieur _Vertaigne_, the provost too, Haste and acquaint my Lady. [_Ex._ Nur. _and_ Char.

_Pro._ Wonderous strange.

_Vert._ 'Tis true Sir, on my credit.

_Cham._ O mine honour.

_Pro._ I have been provost-Marshal twenty years, And have trussed up a thousand of these rascals, But so near _Paris_ yet I never met with One of that Brotherhood.