And make it loathsome even to goats.

_Lam._ O Heaven!
No pity Sir?

_Din._ You taught me to be cruel,
And dare you think of mercy? I'le tell thee fool,
Those that surpriz'd thee, were my instruments,
I can plot too good Madam, you shall find it:
And in the stead of licking of my fingers,
Kneeling and whining like a boy new breech'd,
To get a toy forsooth, not worth an apple,
Thus make my way, and with Authority
Command what I would have.

_Lam._ I am lost for ever:
Good Sir, I do confess my fault, my gross fault,
And yield my self up, miserable guilty;
Thus kneeling I confess, you cannot study
Sufficient punishments to load me with;
I am in your power, and I confess again,
You cannot be too cruel: if there be,
Besides the loss of my long guarded honour,
Any thing else to make the ballance even,
Pray put it in, all hopes, all helpes have left me;
I am girt round with sorrow, hell's about me,
And ravishment the least that I can look for,
Do what you please.

_Din._ Indeed I will do nothing,
Nor touch nor hurt you Lady, nor had ever
Such a lewd purpose.

_Lam._ Can there be such goodness,
And in a man so injur'd?

_Din._ Be confirm'd in't.
I seal it thus: I must confess you vex'd me,
In fooling me so often, and those fears
You threw upon me call'd for a requital,
Which now I have return'd, all unchast love
_Dinant_ thus throws away; live to man-kind,
As you have done to me, and I will honour
Your vertue, and no more think of your beauty.

_Lam._ All I possess, comes short of satisfaction.

_Din._ No complements: the terrours of this night
Imagine but a fearfull dream, and so
With ease forget it: for _Dinant_, that labour'd
To blast your honour, is a Champion for it,
And will protect and guard it.

_Lam._ 'Tis as safe then,
As if a compleat Army undertook it. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ La-writ, Sampson, _Clyents._

_La-writ._ Do not perswade me gentle Monsieur _Sampson_,
I am a mortal man again, a Lawyer,
My martiall part I have put off.

_Sam._ Sweet Monsieur,
Let but our honours teach us.

_La-writ._ Monsieur _Sampson_,
My honourable friend, my valiant friend,
Be but so beaten, forward my brave Clients,
I am yours, and you are mine again, be but so thrasht,
Receive that Castigation with a cudgel.

_Sam._ Which calls upon us for a Reparation.

_La-writ._ I have, it cost me half a crown, I bear it
All over me, I bear it Monsieur _Sampson_;
The oyls, and the old woman that