The Little French Lawyer.

by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher.

A

COMEDY.

Persons Represented in the Play.

Dinant, _a Gentleman that formerly loved, and still pretended to love_ Lamira.

Cleremont, _a merry Gentleman, his Friend._

Champernell, _a lame old Gentleman, Husband to_ Lamira.

Vertaign, _a n.o.ble-man, and a Judge._

Beaupre, _Son to_ Vertaign.

Verdone, _Nephew to_ Champernell.

_Monsieur_ La Writt, _a wrangling Advocate, or the Little Lawyer._

Sampson, _a foolish Advocate, Kinsman to_ Vertaign.

_Provost._

_Gentlemen._

_Clients._

_Servants._

_WOMEN._

Lamira, _Wife to_ Champernell, _and Daughter to_ Vertaign.

Anabell, _Niece to_ Champernell.

Old Lady, _Nurse to_ Lamira.

Charlotte, _Waiting Gentlewoman to_ Lamira.

_The Scene_ France.

The princ.i.p.al Actors were,

_Joseph Taylor._

_John Lowin._

_John Underwood._

_Robert Benfield._

_Nicholas Toolie._

_William Egleston._

_Richard Sharpe._

_Thomas Holcomb._

_Actus Primus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Dinant, _a[n]d_ Cleremont.

_Din._ Disswade me not.

_Clere._ It will breed a brawl.

_Din._ I care not, I wear a Sword.

_Cler._ And wear discretion with it, Or cast it off, let that direct your arm, 'Tis madness else, not valour, and more base Than to receive a wrong.

_Din._ Why would you have me Sit down with a disgrace, and thank the doer?

We are not Stoicks, and that pa.s.sive courage Is only now commendable in Lackies, Peasants, and Tradesmen, not in men of rank And qualitie, as I am.

_Cler._ Do not cherish That daring vice, for which the whole age suffers.

The blood of our bold youth, that heretofore Was spent in honourable action, Or to defend, or to enlarge the Kingdom, For the honour of our Country, and our Prince, Pours it self out with prodigal expence Upon our Mothers lap, the Earth that bred us For every trifle; and these private Duells, Which had their first original from the _Fr[enc]h_ (And for which, to this day, we are justly censured) Are banisht from all civil Governments: Scarce three in _Venice_, in as many years; In _Florence_, they are rarer, and in all The fair Dominions of the _Spanish_ King, They are never heard of: Nay, those neighbour Countries, Which gladly imitate our other follies, And come at a dear rate to buy them of us, Begin now to detest them.

_Din._ Will you end yet--

_Cler._ And I have heard that some of our late Kings, For the lie, wearing of a Mistris favour, A cheat at Cards or Dice, and such like causes, Have lost as many gallant Gentlemen, As might have met the great _Turk_ in the field With confidence of a glorious Victorie, And shall we then--

_Din._ No more, for shame no more, Are you become a Patron too? 'tis a new one, No more on't, burn't, give it to some Orator, To help him to enlarge his exercise, With such a one it might do well, and profit The Curat of the Parish, but for _Cleremont_, The bold, and undertaking _Cleremont_, To talk thus to his friend, his friend that knows him, _Dinant_ that knows his _Cleremont_, is absurd, And meer Apocrypha.

_Cler._ Why, what know you of me?