_Cler._ This is a Challenge, Sir,

_La-w._ 'Tis very like, Sir,
I seldom now write Sonnets.

_Cler._ _O admirantis_,
To Monsieur _Vertaign_, the President.

_La-w._ I chuse no Fool, Sir.

_Cler._ Why, he's no Sword-man, Sir.

_La-w._ Let him learn, let him learn,
Time, that trains Chickens up, will teach him quickly.

_Cler._ Why, he's a Judge, an Old Man.

_La-w._ Never too Old
To be a Gentleman; and he that is a Judge
Can judge best what belongs to wounded honour.
There are my griefs, he has cast away my causes,
In which he has bowed my reputation.
And therefore Judge, or no Judge.

_Cler._ 'Pray be rul'd Sir,
This is the maddest thing--

_La-w._ You will not carry it.

_Cler._ I do not tell you so, but if you may be perswaded.

_La-w._ You know how you us'd me when I would not fight,
Do you remember, Gentleman?

_Cler._ The Devil's in him.

_La-w._ I see it in your Eyes, that you dare do it,
You have a carrying face, and you shall carry it.

_Cler._ The least is Banishment.

_La-w._ Be banish'd then;
'Tis a friends part, we'll meet in _Africa_,
Or any part of the Earth.

_Cler._ Say he will not fight.

_La-w._ I know then what to say, take you no care, Sir,

_Cler._ Well, I will carry it, and deliver it,
And to morrow morning meet you in the Louver,
Till when, my service.

_La-w._ A Judge, or no Judge, no Judge. [_Exit_ La-writ.

_Cler._ This is the prettiest Rogue that e'r I read of,
None to provoke to th' field, but the old President;
What face shall I put on? if I come in earnest,
I am sure to wear a pair of Bracelets;
This may make some sport yet, I will deliver it,
Here comes the President.

_Enter_ Vertaign, _with two Gentlemen_.

_Vert._ I shall find time, Gentlemen,
To do your causes good, is not that _Cleremont_?

_1 Gent._ 'Tis he my Lord.

_Vert._ Why does he smile upon me?
Am I become ridiculous? has your fortune, Sir,
Upon my Son, made you contemn his Father?
The glory of a Gentleman is fair bearing.

_Cler._ Mistake me not my Lord, you shall not find that,
I come with no blown Spirit to abuse you,
I know your place and honour due unto it,
The reverence to your silver Age and Vertue.

_Vert._ Your face is merry still.

_Cler._ So is my business,
And I beseech your honour mistake me not,
I have brought you from a wild or rather Mad-man
As mad a piece of--you were wont to love mirth
In your young days, I have known your Honour woo it,
This may be ma