The Little French Lawyer, page 49 by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher
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you should transgress the rules.
Sam. 'Tis pievish weather, I had rather fight without.
Gent. An 'twere in a River.
Cler. Where both stood up to th' chins.
La-writ. Then let's talk quickly, Pl---- o' this circumstance.
Cler. Are the Horses come yet?
Gent. Yes certain: give your swords to us, now civilly.
Cler. We'll stand a while off; take the things, and leave 'em, You know when, and let the children play: This is a dainty time of year for puppies, Would the old Lord were here.
Gent. He would dye with laughter.
Cler. I am sorry I have no time to see this game out, Away, away.
Gent. Here's like to be a hot fight, Call when y'are fit. [Ex. Cler. and Gent.
La-writ. Why look you Sir, you seem to be a Gentleman, And you come in honour of your Uncle, boh, boh, 'tis very cold; Your Uncle has offer'd me some few affronts, Past flesh and blood to bear: boh, boh, wondrous cold.
Sam. My Lord, mine Uncle, is an honourable man, And what he offers, boh, boh, cold indeed, Having made choice of me, an unworthy kinsman, Yet take me with you: boh, boh, pestilence cold, Not altogether.
La-writ. Boh, boh, I say altogether.
Sam. You say you know not what then? boh, boh, Sir.
La-writ. Sir me with your sword in your hand; You have a scurvy Uncle, you have a most scurvy cause, And you are--boh, boh.
Sam. Boh, boh, what?
La-writ. A shitten scurvy Cousin.
Samp. Our Swords; our Swords; Thou art a Dog, and like a Dog, our Swords.
La-w. Our weapons Gentlemen: ha? where's your second?
Sam. Where's yours?
La-writ. So ho; our weapons.
Sam. Wa, ha, ho, our weapons; Our Doublets and our weapons, I am dead.
La-w. First, se