полная версия
Beaumont Francis
The Little French Lawyer: A Comedy
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima
Enter Cleremont, Dinant.
Din. It holds, they will go thither.
Cler. To their Summer-house?
Din. Thither i'th' evening, and which is the most infliction,
Only to insult upon our miseries.
Cler. Are you provided?
Din. Yes, yes.
Cler. Throughly?
Din. Throughly.
Cler. Basta, enough, I have your mind, I will not fail you.
Din. At such an hour.
Cler. Have I a memory?
A Cause, and Will to do? thou art so sullen—
Din. And shall be, till I have a fair reparation.
Cler. I have more reason, for I scaped a fortune,
Which if I come so near again: I say nothing,
But if I sweat not in another fashion—
O, a delicate Wench.
Din. 'Tis certain a most handsome one.
Cler. And me thought the thing was angry with it self too
It lay so long conceal'd, but I must part with you,
I have a scene of mirth, to drive this from my heart,
And my hour is come.
Din. Miss not your time.
Cler. I dare not. [Exeunt severally.
Enter Sampson, and a Gentleman.
Gent. I presume, Sir, you now need no instruction,
But fairly know, what belongs to a Gentleman;
You bear your Uncles cause.
Sam. Do not disturb me,
I understand my cause, and the right carriage.
Gent. Be not too bloody.
Sam. As I find my enemy; if his sword bite,
If it bite, Sir, you must pardon me.
Gent. No doubt he is valiant,
He durst not undertake else,
Sam. He's most welcome,
As he is most valiant, he were no man for me else.
Gent. But say he should relent.
Sam. He dies relenting,
I cannot help it, he must di[e] relenting,
If he pray, praying, ipso facto, praying,
Your honourable way admits no prayer,
And if he fight, he falls, there's his quietus.
Gent. Y'are nobly punctual, let's retire and meet 'em,
But still, I say, have mercy.
Samp. I say, honour. [Exeunt.
Enter Champernel, Lamira, Anabel, Beaupre, Verdone, Charlote and a Servant.
Lam. Will not you go sweet-heart?
Champ. Go? I'le fly with thee.
I stay behind?
Lam. My Father will be there too,
And all our best friends.
Beau. And if we be not merry,
We have hard luck, Lady.
Verd. Faith let's have a kind of play.
Cham. What shall it be?
Verd. The story of Dinant.
Lam. With the merry conceits of Cleremont,
His Fits and Feavers.
Ana. But I'le lie still no more.
Lam. That, as you make the Play, 'twill be rare sport,
And how 'twill vex my gallants, when they hear it!
Have you given order for the Coach?
Charl. Yes, Madam.
Cham. My easie Nag, and padd.
Serv. 'Tis making ready.
Champ. Where are your Horses?
Beau. Ready at an hour, Sir: we'll not be last.
Cham. Fie, what a night shall we have!
A roaring, merry night.
Lam. We'll flie at all, Sir.
Cham. I'le flie at thee too, finely, and so ruffle thee,
I'le try your Art upon a Country pallet.
Lam. Brag not too much, for fear I should expect it,
Then if you fail—
Cham. Thou saiest too true, we all talk.
But let's in, and prepare, and after dinner
Begin our mirthful pilgrimage.
Lam. He that's sad,
A crab-face'd Mistris cleave to him for this year. [Exeunt.
Enter Cleremont, and La-writ.
La-writ. Since it cannot be the Judge—
Cler. 'Tis a great deal better.
La-writ. You are sure, he is his kinsman? a Gentleman?
Cler. As arrant a Gentleman, and a brave fellow,
And so near to his blood—
La-writ. It shall suffice,
I'le set him further off, I'le give a remove
Shall quit his kindred, I'le lopp him.
Cl[e]r. Will ye kill him?
La-w. And there were no more Cousins in the world I kill him,
I do mean, Sir, to kill all my Lords kindred.
For every cause a Cousin.
Cler. How if he have no more Cousins?
La-writ. The next a kin then to his Lordships favour;
The man he smiles upon.
Cler. Why this is vengeance, horrid, and dire.
La-writ. I love a dire revenge:
Give me the man that will all others kill,
And last himself,
Cler. You stole that resolution.
La-writ. I had it in a Play, but that's all one,
I wou'd see it done.
Cler. Come, you must be more merciful.
La-writ. To no Lords Cousins in the world, I hate 'em;
A Lords Cousin to me is a kind of Cockatrice,
If I see him first, he dies.
A strange Antipathy.
Cler. What think you of their Nieces?
La-writ. If I like 'em,
They may live, and multiply; 'tis a cold morning.
Cler. 'Tis sharp indeed; you have broke your fast?
La-writ. No verily.
Cler. Your valour would have ask'd a good foundation.
La-writ. Hang him, I'le kill him fasting.
Enter Sampson and the Gent.
Cler. Here they come,
Bear your self in your language, smooth and gently,
When your swords argue.
La-writ. 'Pray Sir, spare your precepts.
Gent. I have brought you, Sir—
La-writ. 'Tis very well, no words,
You are welcome, Sir.
Sam. I thank you, Sir, few words.
La-writ. I'le kill you for your Uncles sake.
Sam. I love you,
I'le cut your throat for your own sake.
La-writ. I esteem of you.
Cler. Let's render 'em honest, and fair, Gentlemen,
Search my friend, I'le search yours.
Gent. That's quickly done.
Cler. You come with no Spells, nor Witchcrafts?
Sam. I come fairly to kill him honestly.
La-writ. Hang Spells, and Witchcrafts,
I come to kill my Lords Nephew like a Gentleman,
And so I kiss his hand.
Gent. This Doublet is too stiff.
La-writ. Off with't, I hate it,
And all such fortifications, feel my skin,
If that be stiff, flea that off too.
Gent. 'Tis no soft one.
La-writ. Off with't, I say:
I'le fight with him like a flea'd Cat.
Gent. You are well, you are well.
Cler. You must uncase too.
Sam. Yes, Sir.
But tell me this, why should I mix mine honour
With a fellow, that has ne're a lace in's shirt?
Gent. That's a main point, my friend has two.
Cler. That's true, Sir.
La-w. Base and degenerate Cousin, dost not thou know
An old, and tatter'd colours, to the enemy,
Is of more honour, and shews more ominous?
This shirt, five times, victorious I have fought under,
And cut through squadrons of your curious cut-works,
As I will do through thine, shake, and be satisfied.
Cler. This is unanswerable.
Sam. But may I fight with a foul shirt?
Gent. Most certain, so it be a fighting shirt,
Let it be ne're so foul, or lowsie, Cæsar wore such a one.
Sam. Saint Denis then: I accept your shirt.
Cler. Not so forward, first you must talk,
'Tis a main point, of the French method,
Talk civilly, and make your cause Authentick.
Gent. No weapon must be near you, nor no anger.
Cler. When you have done, then stir your resolutions,
Take to your Weapons bravely.
La-writ. 'Tis too cold;
This for a Summer fight.
Cler. Not for a world 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, second, third, a pl– be wi' you Gentlemen.
Sam. Are these the rules of honour? I am starv'd.
La-w. They are gone, and we are here; what shall we do?
Sam. O for a couple of Faggots.
La-w. Hang a couple of Faggots.
Dar'st thou take a killing cold with me?
Sam. I have it already.
La-w. Rogues, Thieves, boh, boh, run away with our Doublets?
To fight at Buffets now, 'twere such a May-game.
Sam. There were no honour in't, pl– on't, 'tis scurvy.
La-w. Or to revenge my wrongs at fisty-cuffes.
Sam. My Lord, mine Uncles cause, depend on Boxes?
La-w. Let's go in quest, if we ever recover 'em.
Sam. I, come, our Colds together, and our Doublets.
La-w. Give me thy hand; thou art a valiant Gentleman,
I say if ever we recover 'em—
Sam. Let's get into a house and warm our hearts.
La-w. There's ne're a house within this mile, beat me,
Kick me and beat me as I go, and I'le beat thee too,
To keep us warm; if ever we recover 'em—
Kick hard, I am frozen: so, so, now I feel it.
Sam. I am dull yet.
La-w. I'le warm thee, I'le warm thee—Gentlemen?
Rogues, Thieves, Thieves: run now I'le follow thee. [Exeunt.
Enter Vertaign, Champernel, Beaupre, Verdone, Lamira, Annabel, Charlote, Nurse.
Verta. Use legs, and have legs.
Cham. You that have legs say so,
I put my one to too much stress.
Verdo. Your Horse, Sir,
Will meet you within half a mile.
Lam. I like
The walk so well, I should not miss my Coach,
Though it were further. Annabel thou art sad:
What ails my Niece?
Beau. She's still musing, Sister,
How quietly her late bed-fellow lay by her.
Nurse. Old as I am, he would have startled me,
Nor can you blame her.
Char. Had I ta'ne her place,
I know not, but I fear, I should ha' shreek'd,
Though he had never offer'd—
Ana. Out upon thee,
Thou wouldst have taught him.
Char. I think, with your pardon,
That you wish now you had.
Ana. I am glad I yield you [Cornet.
Such ample scope of mirth. [Musick within.
Verta. Nay, be not angry,
There's no ill meant: ha? Musick, and choice Musick?
Cham. 'Tis near us in the Grove; what courteous bounty
Bestows it on us? my dancing days are done;
Yet I would thank the giver, did I know him.
Verdo. 'Tis questionless, some one of your own Village,
That hearing of your purpos'd journey thither,
Prepares it for your entertainment, and
The honour of my Lady.
Lam. I think rather,
Some of your Lordships Clients.
Beaup. What say you Cousin,
If they should prove your Suitors?
Verd. That's most likely.
Nurse. I say if you are noble, be't who will,
Go presently and thank 'em: I can jump yet,
Or tread a measure.
Lam. Like a Millers Mare.
Nurs. I warrant you well enough to serve the Country,
I'le make one, and lead the way. [Exit.
Charl. Do you note,
How zealous the old Crone is?
Lam. And you titter
As eagerly as she: come sweet, we'll follow,
No ill can be intended. [Musick ends.
Cham. I ne're feared yet. [Exeunt.
SONG in the Wood
This way, this way come and hear,
You that hold these pleasures dear,
Fill your ears with our sweet sound,
Whilst we melt the frozen ground:
This way come, make haste oh fair,
Let your clear eyes gild the Air;
Come and bless us with your sight,
This way, this way, seek delight.
Enter company of Gentlemen, like Ruffians.
1 Gent. They are ours, but draw them on a little further
From the foot-path into the neighbouring thicket,
And we may do't, as safe as in a Castle.
2 Gent. They follow still; the President Vertaigne
Comes on a pace, and Champernel limps after;
The Women, as if they had wings, and walk't
Upon the Air, fly to us.
1 Gent. They are welcome,
We'll make 'em sport; make a stand here, all know
How we are to proceed.
2 Gent. We are instructed. [Still Musick within.
1 Gent. One strain or two more. [Gent. off.
Enter Vertaigne, Champernel, Beaupre, Verdone, Lamira, Anabel, Nurse, Charlote.
Excellent, they are come.
Nurse. We cannot miss, in such a business, yet
Mine ear ne'r fail'd me. [Musick for the Dance.
Charl. Would we were at it once,
I do not walk, but Dance.
1 Gent. You shall have dancing.
Begin, and when I give the word—
2 Gent. No more:
We are instructed. [Dance.
Beaupre. But win us fairly—
1 Gent. O Sir, we do not come to try your valour,
But to possess you, yet we use you kindly
In that, like English Thieves, we kill you not,
But are contented with the spoil.
Verta. Oh Heaven!
How hath mine age deserv'd this?
Cham. Hell confound it,
This comes of walking; had I kept my legs,
Or my good Horse, my Armour on,
My Staff in my rest, and this good Sword too, friend,
How I would break and scatter these.
All Gent. Ha, ha, ha.
Cham. Do you scorn me Rogues?
Nurs. Nay, Gentlemen, kind Gentlemen,
Or honest keepers of these woods, but hear me,
Be not so rough; if you are taken with
My beauty, as it hath been worth the seeking,
Some one or two of you try me in private,
You shall not find me squeamish.
Charl. Do not kill me,
And do your worst, I'le suffer.
Lam. Peace vile creatures.
Vert. Do you know me, or my place, that you presume not
To touch my person?
1 Gent. If you are well, rest so,
Provoke not angry Wasps.
Verta. You are Wasps indeed,
Never created to yield Wax or Honey,
But for your Countries torment; yet if you are men,
(As you seem such in shape) if true born French-men,
However want compels you to these courses,
Rest satisfied with what you can take from us,
(These Ladies honours, and our liberties safe)
We freely give it.
1 Gent. You give but our own.
Verta. Look on these grey hairs, as you would be old,
Their tears, as you would have yours to find mercy
When Justice shall o'retake you.
Cham. Look on me,
Look on me Rascals, and learn of me too,
That have been in some part of your profession,
Before that most of you ere suck'd, I know it,
I have rode hard, and late too.
Verta. Take heed, Sir.
Cham. Then use me like a Brother of the Trade,
For I have been at Sea, as you on land are,
Restore my Matrimony undefil'd,
Wrong not my Neece, and for our gold or silver,
If I pursue you, hang me.
Nurs. 'Tis well offer'd,
And as I said, sweet Gentlemen, with sowre faces,
If you are high, and want some sport, or so,
(As living without action here, you may do)
Forbear their tender grissels, they are meat
Will wash away, there is no substance in it,
We that are expert in the game, and tough too,
Will hold you play.
Enter Dinant and Cleremont.
1 Gent. This Hen longs to be troden.
Din. Lackey, my Horse.
Cler. This way, I heard the cries
Of distress'd Women.
2 Gent. Stand upon your guard.
Din. Who's here? my witty, scornful Lady-plot
In the hands of Ruffians?
Cler. And my fine cold virgin,
That was insensible of man, and woman?
Din. Justice too,
Without a sword to guard it self?
Cler. And valour with its hands bound?
Din. And the great Souldier dull?
Why this is strange.
Lam. Dinant as thou art noble—
Ana. As thou art valiant Cleremont—
Lam. As ever I appear'd lovely—
Ana. As you ever hope
For what I would give gladly—
Cler. Pretty conjurations.
Lam. All injuries a little laid behind you.
Ana. Shew your selves men, and help us.
Din. Though your many
And gross abuses of me should more move me
To triumph in your miseries than relieve you,—
Yet that hereafter you may know that I
The scorn'd and despis'd Dinant, know what does
Belong to honour, thus—
Cler. I will say little, [Fight.
Speak thou for me.
Cham. 'Tis bravely fought.
Verta. Brave tempers,
To do thus for their enemies.
Cham. They are lost yet.
1 Gent. You that would rescue others, shall now feel
What they were born to.
2 Gent. Hurry them away. [Ex. Manent Vert. and Champernel.
Cham. That I could follow them.
Verta. I only can lament my fortune, and desire of heaven
A little life for my revenge.
Cham. The Provost
Shall fire the woods, but I will find 'em out,
No cave, no rock, nor hell shall keep them from
My searching vengeance.
Enter La-writ, and Sampson.
La-writ. O cold! O fearfull cold! plague of all seconds.
Samp. O for a pint of burnt wine, or a sip
Of aqua-fortis.
Cham. The rogues have met with these two
Upon my life and rob'd 'em.
La-writ. As you are honourable Gentlemen,
Impart unto a couple of cold combatants.
Sam. My Lord, mine uncle as I live.
La-writ. Pox take him.
How that word has warm'd my mouth!
Verta. Why how now Cousin?
Why, why? and where man, have you been? at a Poulters
That you are cas'd thus like a rabbet? I could laugh now,
And I shall laugh, for all I have lost my Children,
Laugh monstrously.
Cham. What are they?
Verta. Give me leave Sir,
Laugh more and more, never leave laughing.
Cham. Why Sir?
Verta. Why 'tis such a thing I smell it Sir, I smell it,
Such a ridiculous thing,—
La-writ. Do you laugh at me my Lord?
I am very cold, but that should not be laught at.
Cham. What art thou?
La-writ. What art thou?
Sam. If he had his doublet.—
And his sword by his side, as a Gentleman ought to have.
Verta. Peace Monsieur Sampson.
Cham. Come hither little Gentleman.
La-writ. Base is the slave commanded: come to me.
Verta. This is the little advocate.
Cham. What advocate?
Verta. The little advocate that sent me a challenge,
I told you that my Nephew undertook it,
And what 'twas like to prove: now you see the issue.
Cham. Is this the little Lawyer?
La-writ. You have a sword Sir,
And I have none, you have a doublet too
That keeps you warm, and makes you merry.
Sam. If your Lordship knew
The nature, and the nobleness of the Gentleman,
Though he shew slight here, and at what gusts of danger
His manhood has arrived,
But that
Mens fates are foolish,
And often headlong overrun their fortunes.
La-writ. That little Lawyer would so prick his ears up,
And bite your honour by the nose.
Cham. Say you so Sir?
La-writ. So niggle about your grave shins Lord Verta[ig]ne too.
Sam. No more sweet Gentleman, no more of that Sir.
La-writ. I will have more, I must have more.
Verta. Out with it.
Sam. Nay he is as brave a fellow.—
Cham. Have I caught you? [Strikes him down.
Verta. Do not kill him, do not kill him.
Cham. No, no, no, I will not. Do you peep again?
Down down proud heart.
Sam. O valour,
Look up brave friend, I have no means to rescue thee,
My Kingdom for a sword.
Cham. I'le sword you presently,
I'le claw your skin coat too.
Verta. Away good Sampson,
You go to grass else instantly.
Sam. But do not murder my brave friend.
Verta. Not one word.
Cham. If you do sirra—
Sam. Must I goe off dishonour'd?
Adversity tries valour, so I leave thee. [Exit.
Cham. Are you a Lawyer Sir?
La-writ. I was, I was Sir.
Cham. Nay never look, your Lawyers pate is broken,
And your litigious blood about your ears sirra,
Why do you fight and snarle?
La-writ. I was possest.
Cham. I'le dispossess you.
Verta. Ha, ha, ha.
La-writ. Et tu Brute?
Verta. Beat him no more.
Cham. Alas Sir I must beat him,
Beat him into his business again, he will be lost else.
Verta. Then take your way.
Cham. Ly still, and doe not struggle.
La-writ. I am patient,
I never saw my blood before, it jades me,
I have no more heart now than a goose.
Cham. Why sirra, why do you leave your trade, your trade of living,
And send your challenges like thunderbolts,
To men of honour'd place?
La-writ. I understand Sir,
I never understood before your beating.
Cham. Does this work on you?
La-writ. Yes.
Cham. Do you thank me for't?
La-writ. As well as a beaten man can.
Cham. And do you promise me,
To fall close to your trade again? leave brawling?
La-writ. If you will give me leave and life.
Cham. And ask this noble man forgiveness?
La-writ. Heartily.
Cham. Rise then, and get you gone, and let me hear of you
As of an advocate new vampt; no more words,
Get you off quickly, and make no murmurs,
I shall pursue you else.
La-writ. I have done sweet Gentlemen. [Exit.
Verta. But we forget our selves, our friends and Children.
Cham. We'l raise the country first, then take our fortunes. [Exeunt.
Enter one Gentleman, and Lamira.
1 Gent. Shall I entreat for what I may command?
Lam. Think on my birth.
1 Gent. Here I am only Noble,
A King, and thou in my dominions, fool,
A subject and a slave.
Lam. Be not a Tyrant,
A ravisher of honour, gentle Sir,
And I will think ye such, and on my knees,
As to my Soveraign, pay a Subjects duty,
With prayers and tears.
1 Gent. I like this humble carriage,
I will walk by, but kneel you still and weep too,
It shews well, while I meditate on the prey,
Before I seize it.
Lam. Is there no mercie, Heaven?
Enter second Gent. and Anabel.
2 Gent. Not kiss you?
I will kiss and kiss again.
Ana. Savage villain!
My Innocence be my strength, I do defie thee,
Thus scorn and spit at thee; will you come on Sir?
You are hot, there is a cooler.
2 Gent. A virago?
Ana. No, loathsome Goat, more, more, I am that Goddess,
That here with whips of steel in hell hereafter
Scourge rape and theft.
2 Gent. I'le try your deity.
Ana. My chastity, and this knife held by a Virgin,
Against thy lust, thy sword and thee a Beast,
Call on for the encounter.
2 Gent. Now what think you? [Throws her and taks her Knife.
Are you a Goddess?
Ana. In me their power suffers,
That should protect the Innocent.
1 Gent. I am all fire,
And thou shall quench it, and serve my pleasures.
Come partner in the spoil and the reward,
Let us enjoy our purchase.
Lam. O Dinant!
O Heaven! O Husband!
Ana. O my Cleremont!
1 Gent. Two are our slaves they call on, bring 'em forth
As they are chain'd together, let them see
And suffer in the object.
Enter Dinant, and Cleremont, bound by the rest of the Gent.
2 Gent. While we sit
And without pity hear 'em.
Cler. By my life,
I suffer more for thee than for my self.
Din. Be a man Cleremont, and look upon 'em
As such that not alone abus'd our service,
Fed us with hopes most bitter in digestion,
But when love fail'd, to draw on further mischief,
The baits they laid for us, were our own honours,
Which thus hath made us slaves too, worse than slaves.
2 Gent. He dies.
1 Gent. Pray hold, give him a little respite.
Din. I see you now beyond expression wretched,
The wit you brag'd of fool'd, that boasted honour,
As you believ'd compass'd with walls of brass,
To guard it sure, subject to be o'rethrown
With the least blast of lust.
Lam. A most sad truth.
Din. That confidence which was not to be shaken
In a perpetual fever, and those favours,
Which with so strong and Ceremonious duty
Your lover and a Gentleman long sought for,
Sought, sued, and kneel'd in vain for, must you yield up
To a licentious villain, that will hardly
Allow you thanks for't.
Cler. Something I must say too,
And to you pretty one, though crying one;
To be hang'd now, when these worshipful benchers please,
Though I know not their faces that condemn me,
A little startles me, but a man is nothing,
A Maidenhead is the thing, the thing all aim at;
Do not you wish now, and wish from your heart too,
When scarce sweet with my fears, I long lay by you
Those fears you and your good Aunt put upon me,
To make you sport, you had given a little hint,
A touch or so, to tell me I was mortal,
And by a mortal woman?
Ana. Pray you no more.
Cler. If I had loos'd that virgin Zone, observe me,
I would have hired the best of all our Poets
To have sung so much, and so well in the honour
Of that nights joy, that Ovids afternoon,
Nor his Corinna should again be mention'd.
Ana. I do repent, and wish I had.
Cler. That's comfort,
But now—
2 Gent. Another that will have it offer'd,
Compel it to be offer'd, shall enjoy it.
Cler. A rogue, a ruffian.
2 Gent. As you love your throat,—
1 Gent. Away with them.
Ana. O Cleremont!
Lam. O Dinant!
Din. I can but add your sorrows to my sorrows,
Your fears to my fears.
Cler. To your wishes mine,
This slave may prove unable to perform,
Till I perform the task that I was born for.
Ana. Amen, amen.
1 Gent. Drag the slaves hence, for you
A while I'le lock you up here, study all ways
You can to please me, or the deed being done,
You are but dead.
2 Gen. This strong Vault shall contain you,
There think how many for your maidenhead
Have pin'd away, and be prepar'd to lose it
With penitence.
1 Gent. No humane help can save you.
Ladyes. Help, help!
2 Gent. You cry in vain, rocks cannot hear you.
