y business.

_Din._ But for this Lady, Sir--

_La-writ._ Why, hang this Lady, Sir,
And the Lady Mother too, Sir, what have I to do with Ladies?

_Enter_ Cleremont.

_Cler._ 'Tis the little Lawyers voice: has he got my way?
It should be hereabouts.

_Din._ Ye dry bisket rogue,
I will so swinge you for this blasphemie--
Have I found you out?

_Cler._ That should be _Dinants_ tongue too.

_La-wr._ And I defy thee do thy worst: _O ho quoth_ Lancelot _tho_.
And that thou shalt know, I am a true Gentleman,
And speak according to the phrase triumphant;
Thy Lady is a scurvy Lady, and a shitten Lady,
And though I never heard of her, a deboshed Lady,
And thou, a squire of low degree; will that content thee?
Dost [thou] way-lay me with Ladies? A pretty sword, Sir,
A very pretty sword, I have a great mind to't.

_Din._ You shall not lose your longing, rogue.

_Cler._ Hold, hold.
Hold _Dinant_, as thou art a Gentleman.

_La-writ._ As much as you will, my hand is in now.

_Cler._ I am your friend, Sir: _Dinant_ you draw your sword
Upon the Gentleman preserv'd your honour:
This was my second, and did back me nobly,
For shame forbear.

_Din._ I ask your mercy, Sir, and am your servant now.

_La-writ._ May we not fight then?

_Cler._ I am sure you shall not now.

_La-wr._ I am sorry for't, I am sure I'le stay no longer then,
Not a jot longer: are there any more on ye afore?
I will sing still, Sir. [_Exit_ La-writ, _singing_.

_Din._ I look now you should chide me, and 'tis fit,
And with much bitterness express your anger,
I have deserv'd: yet when you know--

_Cler._ I thank ye,
Do you think that the wrong you have off'red me,
The most unmanly wrong, unfriendly wrong--

_Din._ I do confess--

_Cler._ That boyish sleight--

_Din._ Not so, Sir.

_Cler._ That poor and base renouncing of your honour,
Can be allaied with words?

_Din._ I give you way still.

_Cler._ Coloured with smooth excuses? Was it a friends part,
A Gentlemans, a mans that wears a Sword,
And stands upon the point of reputation,
To hide his head then, when his honour call'd him?
Call'd him aloud, and led him to his fortune?
To halt and slip the coller? by my life,
I would have given my life I had never known thee,
Thou hast eaten Canker-like into my judgement
With this disgrace, thy whole life cannot heal again.

_Din._ This I can suffer too, I find it honest.

_Cler._ Can you pretend an excuse now may absolve you,