Volume Iii Part 97 (2/2)

_Cle_. What mean you by that word?

_Lab_. Again, Sir, here's two to one. [_Aside_.

_Fal_. Will she do reason, or so? you understand me.

_Cle_. I understand that thou'rt an impudent fellow, Whom I must cudgel into better manners.

_Fal_. Pox on't, who bears up now, _Labree_?

_Cle_. Beat thee till thou confess thou art an a.s.s, And on thy knees confess it to _Isillia_, Who after that shall scorn thee.

_Lab_. Railly with him, Sir, 'tis your only way, and put it Off with a jest; for he's in fury, but dares not Strike i'th' Court.

_Fal_. But must you needs do this, needs fight, _Cleontius_?

_Cle_. Yes, by all means, I find my self inclin'd to't.

_Fal_. You shall have your desire, Sir, farewel.

_Cle_. When, and where?

_Fal_. Faith, very suddenly, for I think it will not be Hard to find men of your trade, Men that will fight as long as you can do, And Men that love it much better than I, Men that are poor and d.a.m.n'd, fine desperate Rogues, Rascals that for a Pattac.o.o.n a Man Will fight their Fathers, And kiss their Mothers into peace again: Such, Sir, I think will fit you.

_Cle_. Abusive Coward, hast thou no sense of honour?

_Fal_. Sense of honour! ha, ha, ha, poor _Cleontius_.

_Enter_ Aminta _and_ Olinda.

_Am_. How now, Servant, why so jovial?

_Fal_. I was laughing, Madam--at--

_Cle_. At what, thou thing of nothing--

_Am_. Cousin _Cleontius_, you are angry.

_Cle_. Madam, it is unjustly then, for Fools Should rather move the Spleen to Mirth than Anger.

_Am_. You've too much wit to take ought ill from him: Let's know your quarrel.

_Fal_. By _Jove, Labree_, I am undone again.

_Cle_. Madam, it was about--

_Fal_. Hold, dear _Cleontius_, hold, and I'll do any thing. [_Aside_.

_Cle_. Just nothing--

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