Francis Beaumont

Enter Cleremont, as in the field.

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.

Enter Beaupre, and Verdone.

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.

Enter an old Gentleman.

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.

Enter two Gentlemen.

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.

Enter Monsieur La-writ, within.

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;
For I shall ne're leave quarrelling.
How long must we fight? for I cannot stay,
Nor will not stay, I have business.
Cler. We'l do't in a minute, in a moment.
La-writ. Here will I hang my bag then, it may save my belly,
I never lov'd cold Iron there.
Cler. You do wisely.
La-writ. Help me to pluck my Sword out then, quickly, quickly,
'Thas not seen Sun these ten years.
Cler. How it grumbles!
This Sword is vengeance angry.
La-writ. Now I'le put my hat up,
And say my prayers as I goe; away boy,
If I be kill'd, remember the little Lawyer. [Exeunt.

Enter Beaupre.

Beaup. They are both come on, that may be a stubborn rascal,
Take you that ground,

Enter La-writ.

I'le stay here, fight bravely.
La-writ. To't chearfully my boyes, you'l let's have fair play,
None of your foyning tricks.
Beaup. Come forward Monsieur; [Fight.
What hast thou there? a pudding in thy belly?
I shall see what it holds.
La-writ. Put your spoon home then:
Nay, since I must fight, have at you without wit, Sir:
God a mercy bagg.
Beaup. Nothing but bumbast in ye?
The Rogue winks and fights.
La-writ. Now your fine fencing, Sir: [Beau. loses his sword.
Stand off, thou diest on point else, [La-writ treads on it.
I have it, I have it: yet further off:
I have his Sword.
Cler. Then keep it, be sure you keep it.
La-writ. I'le put it in my mouth else.
Stand further off yet, and stand quietly,
And look another way, or I'le be with you,
Is this all? I'le undertake within these two daies
To furnish any Cutler in this Kingdom.
Beau. Pox, what fortune's this? disarm'd by a puppie?
A snail? a Dog?
La-writ. No more o' these words Gentleman,
Sweet Gentleman no more, do not provoke me,
Go walk i'th' horse-fair; whistle Gentleman,
What must I do now?

Enter Cleremont, pursued by Verdone.

Cler. Help me, I am almost breathless.
La-writ. With all my heart, there's a cold pye for you, Sir.
Cler. Thou strik'st me, fool.
La-writ. Thou fool, stand further off then,
Deliver, deliver.
Cler. Hold fast. [He strikes up the others heels,
and takes his Sword too.
La-writ. I never fail in't,
There's twelve pence, go buy you two leaden Daggers,
Have I done well?
Cler. Most like a Gentleman.
Beau. And we two basely lost.
Verd. 'Tis but a fortune,
We shall yet find an hour. [Ex. Beau. Verd. sad.
Cler. I shall be glad on't.
La-writ. Where's my cloak, and my trinkets?
Or will you fight any longer, for a crash or two?
Cler. I am your noble friend, Sir.
La-writ. It may be so.
Cler. What honour shall I do you,
For this great courtesie?
La-writ. All I desire of ye,
Is to take the quarrel to your self, and let me hear no more on't,
I have no liking to't, 'tis a foolish matter,
And help me to put up my Sword.
Cler. Most willingly.
But I am bound to gratifie you, and I must not leave you.
La-writ. I tell you, I will not be gratified,
Nor I will hear no more on't: take the Swords too,
And do not anger me but leave me quietly.
For the matter of honour, 'tis at your own disposure,
And so, and so. [Exit La-writ.
Cler. This is a most rare Lawyer:
I am sure most valiant. Well Dinant, as you satisfie me,
I say no more: I am loaden like an Armorer. [Exit Cler.

Din. To be dispatcht upon a sleeveless errand?
To leave my friend engag'd, mine honour tainted?
These are trim things. I am set here like a Perdue,
To watch a fellow, that has wrong'd my Mistris,
A scurvy fellow that must pass this way,
But what this scurvy fellow is, or whence,
Or whether his name be William or John,
Or Anthony or Dick, or any thing, I know not;
A scurvy rascally fellow I must aim at,
And there's the office of an Asse flung on me.
Sure Cleremont has fought, but how come off,
And what the world shall think of me hereafter:
Well, woman, woman, I must look your rascals,
And lose my reputation: ye have a fine power over us.
These two long hours I have trotted here, and curiously
Survey'd all goers by, yet find no rascal,
Nor any face to quarel with:
What's that? [La-writ sings within, then Enters.
This is a rascally voice, sure it comes this way.
La-writ. He strook so hard, the Bason broke,
And Tarquin heard the sound.
Din. What Mister thing is this? let me survey it.
La-writ. And then he strook his neck in two.
Din. This may be a rascal, but 'tis a mad rascal,
What an Alphabet of faces he puts on!
Hey how it fences! if this should be the rogue,
As 'tis the likeliest rogue I see this day—
La-wr. Was ever man for Ladies sake? down, down.
Di. And what are you good Sir? down, down, down, down.
La-writ. What's that to you good Sir? down, down.
Din. A pox on you good Sir, down, down, down,
You with your Buckram bag, what make you here?
And from whence come you? I could fight with my shadow now.
La-wr. Thou fierce man that like Sir Lancelot dost appear,
I need not tell thee what I am, nor eke what I make here.
Din. This is a precious knave, stay, stay, good Tristram,
And let me ask thy mightiness a question,
Did ye never abuse a Lady?
La-writ. Not; to abuse a Lady, is very hard, Sir.
Din. Say you so, Sir?
Didst thou never abuse her honour?
La-writ. Not; to abuse her honour, is impossible.
Din. Certain this is the rascal: What's thy name?
La-writ. My name is Cock o' two, use me respectively,
I will be Cock of three else.
Din. What's all this?
You say, you did abuse a Lady.
La-writ. You ly.
Din. And that you wrong'd her honour.
La-writ. That's two lyes,
Speak suddenly, for I am full of business.
Din. What art thou, or what canst thou be, thou pea-goose,
That dar'st give me the ly thus? thou mak'st me wonder.
La-writ. And wonder on, till time make all things plain.
Din. You must not part so, Sir, art thou a Gentleman?
La-writ. Ask those upon whose ruins I am mounted.
Din. This is some Cavellero Knight o'th' Sun.
La-wr. I tell thee I am as good a Gentleman as the Duke;
I have atchieved—goe follow thy business.
Din. But for this Lady, Sir—
La-writ. Why, hang this Lady, Sir,
And the Lady Mother too, Sir, what have I to do with Ladies?

Cler. 'Tis the little Lawyers voice: has he got my way?
It should be hereabouts.
Din. Ye dry bisket rogue,
I will so swinge you for this blasphemie—
Have I found you out?
Cler. That should be Dinants tongue too.
La-wr. And I defy thee do thy worst: O ho quoth Lancelot tho.
And that thou shalt know, I am a true Gentleman,
And speak according to the phrase triumphant;
Thy Lady is a scurvy Lady, and a shitten Lady,
And though I never heard of her, a deboshed Lady,
And thou, a squire of low degree; will that content thee?
Dost [thou] way-lay me with Ladies? A pretty sword, Sir,
A very pretty sword, I have a great mind to't.
Din. You shall not lose your longing, rogue.
Cler. Hold, hold.
Hold Dinant, as thou art a Gentleman.
La-writ. As much as you will, my hand is in now.
Cler. I am your friend, Sir: Dinant you draw your sword
Upon the Gentleman preserv'd your honour:
This was my second, and did back me nobly,
For shame forbear.
Din. I ask your mercy, Sir, and am your servant now.
La-writ. May we not fight then?
Cler. I am sure you shall not now.
La-wr. I am sorry for't, I am sure I'le stay no longer then,
Not a jot longer: are there any more on ye afore?
I will sing still, Sir. [Exit La-writ, singing.
Din. I look now you should chide me, and 'tis fit,
And with much bitterness express your anger,
I have deserv'd: yet when you know—
Cler. I thank ye,
Do you think that the wrong you have off'red me,
The most unmanly wrong, unfriendly wrong—
Din. I do confess—
Cler. That boyish sleight—
Din. Not so, Sir.
Cler. That poor and base renouncing of your honour,
Can be allaied with words?
Din. I give you way still.
Cler. Coloured with smooth excuses? Was it a friends part,
A Gentlemans, a mans that wears a Sword,
And stands upon the point of reputation,
To hide his head then, when his honour call'd him?
Call'd him aloud, and led him to his fortune?
To halt and slip the coller? by my life,
I would have given my life I had never known thee,
Thou hast eaten Canker-like into my judgement
With this disgrace, thy whole life cannot heal again.
Din. This I can suffer too, I find it honest.
Cler. Can you pretend an excuse now may absolve you,
Or any thing like honest, to bring you off?
Ingage me like an Asse?
Din. Will you but hear me?
Cler. Expose me like a Jade to tug, and hale through,
Laugh'd at, and almost hooted? your disgraces
Invite mens Swords and angers to dispatch me.
Din. If you will be patient.
Cler. And be abus'd still: But that I have call'd thee friend,
And to that name allow a Sanctuary,
You should hear further from me, I would not talk thus:
But henceforth stand upon your own bottom, Sir,
And bear your own abuses, I scorn my sword
Should travel in so poor and empty quarrels.
Din. Ha' you done yet? take your whole swing of anger,
I'le bear all with content.
Cler. Why were you absent?
Din. You know I am no Coward, you have seen that,
And therefore, out of fear forsook you not:
You know I am not false, of a treacherous nature,
Apt to betray my friend, I have fought for you too;
You know no business, that concern'd my state,
My kindred, or my life.
Cler. Where was the fault then?
Din. The honour of that Lady I adore,
Her credit, and her name: ye know she sent for me,
And with what haste.
Cler. What was he that traduc'd?
Din. The man i'th' Moon, I think, hither I was sent,
But to what end—

Cler. This is a pretty flim-flam.
O. La. I am glad I have met you Sir, I have been seeking,
And seeking every where.
Cler. And now you have found him,
Declare what business, our Embassadour.
O. Lady. What's that to ye good man flouter? O Sir, my Lady.
Din. Prethee no more of thy Lady, I have too much on't.
Cler. Let me have a little, speak to me.
Old Lady. To you Sir?
'Tis more than time: All occasions set aside Sir,
Or whatsoever may be thought a business—
Din. What then?
Old Lady. Repair to me within this hour.
Cler. Where?
O. Lady. What's that to you? come you, Sir, when y'are sent for.
Cler. God a mercy Mumpsimus,
You may goe Dinant, and follow this old Fairie,
Till you have lost your self, your friends, your credit,
And Hunt away your youth in rare adventures,
I can but grieve I have known you.
Old Lady. Will ye goe Sir?
I come not often to you with these blessings,
You m[a]y believe that thing there, and repent it,
That dogged thing.
Cler. Peace touchwood.
Din. I will not goe:
Goe bid your Lady seek some fool to fawn on her,
Some unexperienc'd puppie to make sport with,
I have been her mirth too long, thus I shake from me
The fetters she put on; thus her enchantments
I blow away like wind, no more her beauty—
Old Lady. Take heed Sir what you say.
Cler. Goe forward, Dinant.
Din. The charms shot from her eyes—
Old Lady. Be wise.
Cler. Be Valiant.
Din. That tongue that tells fair tales to mens destructions
Shall never rack me more.
Old Lady. Stay there.
Cler. Goe forward.
Din. I will now hear her, see her as a woman,
Survey her, and the power man has allow'd, Sir,
As I would do the course of common things,
Unmov'd, unstruck.
Cler. Hold there, and I forgive thee.
Din. She is not fair, and that that makes her proud,
Is not her own, our eyes bestow it on her,
To touch and kiss her is no blessedness,
A Sun-burnt Ethiops lip's as soft as her's.
Goe bid her stick some other triumph up,
And take into her favour some dull fool,
That has no pretious time to lose, no friends,
No honour, nor no life, like a bold Merchant,
A bold and banquerupt man, I have ventur'd all these,
And split my bottom: return this answer to her,
I am awake again and see her mischiefs,
And am not now, on every idle errand,
And new coyn'd anger, to be hurried,
And then despis'd again, I have forgot her.
Cler. If this be true—
O. Lady. I am sorry, I have troubled you,
More sorrie, that my Lady has adventur'd
So great a favour in so weak a mind:
This hour you have refus'd that when you come to know it,
Will run you mad, and make you curse that fellow,
She is not fair, nor handsom, so I leave you.
Cler. Stay Lady, stay, but is there such a business?
O. Lady. You would break your neck 'twere yours.
Cler. My back, you would say.
O. La. But play the friends part still, Sir, and undoe him,
'Tis a fair office.
Din. I have spoke too liberally.
O. Lady. I shall deliver what you say.
Cler. You shall be hang'd first,
You would fain be prating now; take the man with you.
O. Lady. Not I, I have no power.
Cler. You may goe Dinant.
O. Lady. 'Tis in's own will, I had no further charge, Sir,
Than to tell him what I did, which if I had thought
It should have been receiv'd so—
Cler. 'Faith you may,
You do not know how far it may concern you.
If I perceiv'd any trick in't.
Din. 'Twill end there.
Cler. 'Tis my fault then, there is an hour in fortune,
That must be still observ'd: you think I'le chide you,
When things must be, nay see, an he will hold his head up?
Would such a Lady send, with such a charge too?
Say she has plaid the fool, play the fool with her again,
The great fool, the greater still the better.
He shall goe with you woman.
Old Lady. As it please him,
I know the way alone else.
Din. Where is your Lady?
O. Lady. I shall direct you quickly.
Din. Well, I'le goe,
But what her wrongs will give me leave to say.
Cler. We'll leave that to your selves: I shall hear from you.
Din. As soon as I come off—
Cler. Come on then bravely;
Farewel till then, and play the man.
Din. You are merry;
All I expect is scorn: I'le lead you Lady. [Exeunt severally.