The Little French Lawyer Part 15

_Enter_ Cleremont _above_.

_Cler._ What a Devil ail you?

How cold I sweat! a hogs pox stop your pipes, [_Musick._ The thing will 'wake; now, now, methinks I find His Sword just gliding through my throat. What's that?

A vengeance choak your pipes. Are you there, Lady?

Stop, stop those Rascals; do you bring me hither To be cut into minced meat? why _Dinant_?

_Din._ I cannot do withal; I have spoke, and spoke; I am betray'd and lost too.

_Cler._ Do you hear me? do you understand me?

'Plague dam your Whistles. [_Musick ends._

_Lam._ 'Twas but an over-sight, they have done, lye down.

_Cler._ Would you had done too, You know not In what a misery and fear I lye.

You have a Lady in your arms.

_Din._ I would have-- [_The Recorders again._

_Champ._ I'll watch you Goodman Wou'd have.

_Cler._ Remove for Heavens sake, And fall to that you come for.

_Lam._ Lie you down, 'Tis but an hours endurance now.

_Cler._ I dare not, softly sweet Lady ----heart?

_Lam._ 'Tis nothing but your fear, he sleeps still soundly, Lie gently down.

_Cler._ 'Pray make an end.

_Din._ Come, Madam.

_Lam._ These Chambers are too near. [_Ex._ Din. Lam.

_Cham._ I shall be nearer; Well, go thy wayes, I'le trust thee through the world, Deal how thou wilt: that that I never feel, I'le never fear. Yet by the honour of a Souldier, I hold thee truly n.o.ble: How these things will look, And how their blood will curdle! Play on Children, You shall have pap anon. O thou grand Fool, That thou knew'st but thy fortune-- [_Musick done._

_Cler._ Peace, good Madam, Stop her mouth, _Dinant_, it sleeps yet, 'pray be wary, Dispatch, I cannot endure this misery, I can hear nothing more; I'll say my prayers, And down again-- [_Whistle within._ A thousand Alarms fall upon my quarters, Heaven send me off; when I lye keeping Courses.

Pl---- o' your fumbling, _Dinant_; how I shake!

'Tis still again: would I were in the _Indies_. [_Exit_ Cler.

_Enter_ Dinant, _and_ Lamira: _a light within_.

_Din._ Why do you use me thus? thus poorly? basely?

Work me into a hope, and then destroy me?

Why did you send for me? this new way train me?

_Lam._ Mad-man, and fool, and false man, now I'll shew thee.

_Din._ 'Pray put your light out.

_Lam._ Nay I'll hold it thus, That all chaste Eyes may see thy l.u.s.t, and scorn it.

Tell me but this when you first doted on me, And made suit to enjoy me as your Wife, Did you not hold me honest?

_Din._ Yes, most vertuous.

_Lam._ And did not that appear the only l.u.s.tre That made me worth your love and admiration?

_Din._ I must confess--

_Lam._ Why would you deal so basely?

So like a thief, a Villain?

_Din._ Peace, good Madam.

_Lam._ I'll speak aloud too; thus maliciously, Thus breaking all the Rules of honesty, Of honour and of truth, for which I lov'd you, For which I call'd you servant, and admir'd you; To steal that Jewel purchas'd by another, Piously set in Wedlock, even that Jewel, Because it had no flaw, you held unvaluable: Can he that has lov'd good, dote on the Devil?

For he that seeks a Wh.o.r.e, seeks but his Agent; Or am I of so wild and low a blood?

So nurs'd in infamies?

_Din._ I do not think so, And I repent.

_Lam._ That will not serve your turn, Sir.

_Din._ It was your treaty drew me on.

_Lam._ But it was your villany Made you pursue it; I drew you but to try How much a man, and n.o.bly thou durst stand, How well you had deserv'd the name of vertuous; But you like a wild torrent, mix'd with all Beastly and base affections came floating on, Swelling your poyson'd billows--

_Din._ Will you betray me?

_Lam._ To all the miseries a vext Woman may.

_Din._ Let me but out, Give me but room to toss my Sword about me, And I will tell you y'are a treacherous woman, O that I had but words!

_Lam._ They will not serve you.

_Din._ But two-edg'd words to cut thee; a Lady traytor?

Perish by a proud Puppet? I did you too much honour, To tender you my love, too much respected you To think you worthy of my worst embraces.

Go take your Groom, and let him dally with you, Your greasie Groom; I scorn to imp your lame stock, You are not fair, nor handsome, I lyed loudly, This tongue abus'd you when it spoke you beauteous.

_Lam._ 'Tis very well, 'tis brave.

_Din._ Put out your light, Your lascivious eyes are flames enough For Fools to find you out; a Lady Plotter!

Must I begin your sacrifice of mischief?

I and my friend, the first-fruits of that bloud, You and your honourable Husband aim at?

Crooked and wretched you are both.

_Lam._ To you, Sir, Yet to the Eye of Justice straight as Truth.

_Din._ Is this a womans love? a womans mercy?