The Little French Lawyer: A Comedy. Beaumont Francis

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      Cler. This was spoke home indeed.

      Beau. Sir, I shall take some other time to tell you,

      That this harsh language was delivered to

      An old man, but my Father.

      Din. At your pleasure.

      Cler. Proceed in your design, let me alone,

      To answer him, or any man.

      Verd. You presume

      Too much upon your name, but may be couzen'd.

      Din. But for you, most unmindfull of my service,

      For now I may upbraid you, and with honour,

      Since all is lost, and yet I am a gainer,

      In being deliver'd from a torment in you,

      For such you must have been, you to whom nature

      Gave with a liberal hand most excellent form,

      Your education, language, and discourse,

      And judgement to distinguish, when you shall

      With feeling sorrow understand how wretched

      And miserable you have made your self,

      And but your self have nothing to accuse,

      Can you with hope from any beg compassion?

      But you will say, you serv'd your Fathers pleasure,

      Forgetting that unjust commands of Parents

      Are not to be obey'd, or that you are rich,

      And that to wealth all pleasure else are servants,

      Yet but consider, how this wealth was purchas'd,

      'Twill trouble the possession.

      Champ. You Sir know

      I got it, and with honour.

      Din. But from whom?

      Remember that, and how: you'l come indeed

      To houses bravely furnish'd, but demanding

      Where it was bought, this Souldier will not lie,

      But answer truly, this rich cloth of Arras

      I made my prize in such a Ship, this Plate

      Was my share in another; these fair Jewels,

      Coming a shore, I got in such a Village,

      The Maid, or Matron kill'd, from whom they were ravish'd,

      The Wines you drink are guilty too, for this,

      This Candie Wine, three Merchants were undone,

      These Suckets break as many more: in brief,

      All you shall wear, or touch, or see, is purchas'd

      By lawless force, and you but revel in

      The tears, and grones of such as were the owners.

      Champ. 'Tis false, most basely false.

      Verta. Let losers talk.

      Din. Lastly, those joyes, those best of joyes, which Hymen

      Freely bestows on such, that come to tye

      The sacred knot be blesses, won unto it

      By equal love, and mutual affection,

      Not blindly led with the desire of riches,

      Most miserable you shall never taste of.

      This Marriage night you'l meet a Widows bed,

      Or failing of those pleasures all Brides look for,

      Sin in your wish it were so.

      Champ. Thou art a Villain,

      A base, malitious slanderer.

      Cler. Strike him.

      Din. No, he is not worth a blow.

      Champ. O that I had thee

      In some close vault, that only would yield room

      To me to use my Sword, to thee no hope

      To run away, I would make thee on thy knees,

      Bite out the tongue that wrong'd me.

      Verta. Pray you have patience.

      Lamira. This day I am to be your Soveraign,

      Let me command you.

      Champ. I am lost with rage,

      And know not what I am my self, nor you:

      Away, dare such as you, that love the smoke

      Of peace more than the fire of glorious War,

      And like unprofitable drones, feed on

      Your grandsires labours, that, as I am now,

      Were gathering Bees, and fill'd their Hive, this Country

      With brave triumphant spoils, censure our actions?

      You object my prizes to me, had you seen

      The horrour of a Sea-fight, with what danger

      I made them mine; the fire I fearless fought in,

      And quench'd it in mine enemies blood, which straight

      Like oyle pour'd out on't, made it burn anew;

      My Deck blown up, with noise enough to mock

      The lowdest thunder, and the desperate fools

      That Boorded me, sent, to defie the tempests

      That were against me, to the angrie Sea,

      Frighted with men thrown o're; no victory,

      But in despight of the four Elements,

      The Fire, the Air, the Sea, and sands hid in it

      To be atchiev'd, you would confess poor men,

      (Though hopeless, such an honourable way

      To get or wealth, or honour) in your selves

      He that through all these dreadfull passages

      Pursued and overtook them, СКАЧАТЬ