The Little French Lawyer, page 19 by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher
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/em> 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