LITMIR.BIZ

      Din. Nor wouldst thou take a blow?

      Cler. Not from my friend, though drunk, and from an enemy

      I think much less.

      Din. There's some hope of thee left then,

      Wouldst thou hear me behind my back disgrac'd?

      Cler. Do you think I am a rogue? they that should do it

      Had better been born dumb.

      Din. Or in thy presence

      See me o'recharg'd with odds?

      Cler. I'd fall my self first.

      Din. Would'st thou endure thy Mistris be taken from thee,

      And thou sit quiet?

      Cler. There you touch my honour,

      No French-man can endure that.

      Di[n]. Pl– upon thee,

      Why dost thou talk of Peace then? that dar'st suffer

      Nothing, or in thy self, or in thy friend

      That is unmanly?

      Cler. That I grant, I cannot:

      But I'le not quarrel with this Gentleman

      For wearing stammel Breeches, or this Gamester

      For playing a thousand pounds, that owes me nothing;

      For this mans taking up a common Wench

      In raggs, and lowsie, then maintaining her

      Caroach'd in cloth of Tissue, nor five hundred

      Of such like toyes, that at no part concern me;

      Marry, where my honour, or my friend is questioned,

      I have a Sword, and I think I may use it

      To the cutting of a Rascals throat, or so,

      Like a good Christian.

      Din. Thou art of a fine Religion,

      And rather than we'l make a Schism in friendship

      I will be of it: But to be serious,

      Thou art acquainted with my tedious love-suit

      To fair Lamira?

      Cler. Too well Sir, and remember

      Your presents, courtship, that's too good a name,

      Your slave-like services, your morning musique;

      Your walking three hours in the rain at midnight,

      To see her at her window, sometimes laugh'd at,

      Sometimes admitted, and vouchsaf'd to kiss

      Her glove, her skirt, nay, I have heard, her slippers,

      How then you triumph'd?

      Here was love forsooth.

      Din. These follies I deny not,

      Such a contemptible thing my dotage made me,

      But my reward for this—

      Cler. As you deserv'd,

      For he that makes a goddess of a Puppet,

      Merits no other recompence.

      Din. This day friend,

      For thou art so—

      Cler. I am no flatterer.

      Din. This proud, ingratefull she, is married to

      Lame Champernel.

      Cler. I know him, he has been

      As tall a Sea-man, and has thriv'd as well by't,

      The loss of a legg and an arm deducted, as any

      That ever put from Marseilles: you are tame,

      Pl– on't, it mads me; if it were my case,

      I should kill all the family.

      Din. Yet but now

      You did preach patience.

      Cler. I then came from confession,

      And 'twas enjoyn'd me three hours for a penance,

      To be a peaceable man, and to talk like one,

      But now, all else being pardon'd, I begin

      On a new Tally, Foot do any thing,

      I'le second you.

      Din. I would not willingly

      Make red, my yet white conscience, yet I purpose

      In the open street, as they come from the Temple,

      (For this way they must pass,) to speak my wrongs,

      And do it boldly.                     [Musick playes.

      Cler. Were thy tongue a Cannon,

      I would stand by thee, boy, they come, upon 'em.

      Din. Observe a little first.

      Cler. This is fine fidling.