a kind of pretty Lawyer,
Of a kind of unable thing.

_2 Cly._ A fine Lawyer, Sir,
And would have firk'd you up a business,
And out of this Court into that.

_Samp._ Ye are too forward
Not so fine my friends, something he could have done,
But short short.

_1 Cly._ I know your worships favour,
You are Nephew to the Judge, Sir.

_Samp._ It may be so,
And something may be done, without trotting i'th' dirt, friends;
It may be I can take him in his Chamber,
And have an hours talk, it may be so,
And tell him that in's ear; there are such courtesies;
I will not say, I can.

_3 Cly._ We know you can, Sir.

_Sam._ Peradventure I, peradventure no: but where's _La-writ_?
Where's your sufficient Lawyer?

_1 Cly._ He's blown up, Sir.

_2 Cly._ Run mad and quarrels with the Dog he meets;
He is no Lawyer of this world now.

_Sam._ Your reason?
Is he defunct? is he dead?

_2 Cly._ No he's not dead yet, Sir;
But I would be loth to take a lease on's life for two hours:
Alas, he is possest Sir, with the spirit of fighting
And quarrels with all people; but how he came to it--

_Samp._ If he fight well and like a Gentleman,
The man may fight, for 'tis a lawfull calling.
Look you my friends, I am a civil Gentleman,
And my Lord my Uncle loves me.

_3 Cly._ We all know it, Sir.

_Sam._ I think he does, Sir, I have business too, much business,
Turn you some forty or fifty Causes in a week;
Yet when I get an hour of vacancie,
I can fight too my friends, a little does well,
I would be loth to learn to fight.

_1 Cly._ But and't please you Sir,
His fighting has neglected all our business,
We are undone, our causes cast away, Sir,
His not appearance.

_Sam._ There he fought too long,
A little and fight well, he fought too long indeed friends;
But ne'r the less things must be as they may,
And there be wayes--

_1 Cly._ We know, Sir, if you please--

_Sam._ Something I'le do: goe rally up your Causes.

_Enter_ La-writ, _and a_ Gentleman, _at the door_.

_2 Cly._ Now you may behold Sir,
And be a witness, whether we lie or no.

_La-writ._ I'le meet you at the Ordinary, sweet Gentlemen,
And if there be a wench or two--

_Gen._ We'll have 'em.

_La-writ._ No handling any Duells before I come,
We'll have no going else, I hate a coward.

_Gent._ There shall be nothing done.

_La-writ._ Make all the quarrels
You can devise before I come, and let's all fight,
There is no sport else.

_Gent._ We'll see what