The hectors, or, The false challenge a comedy written in the year MDCLV, the scene, London.

About this Item

Title
The hectors, or, The false challenge a comedy written in the year MDCLV, the scene, London.
Author
Prestwich, Edmund, fl. 1650-1651.
Publication
London :: Printed for G. Bedel and T. Collins, and are to be sold at their shop ...,
1656.
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Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A55761.0001.001
Cite this Item
"The hectors, or, The false challenge a comedy written in the year MDCLV, the scene, London." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A55761.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 18, 2024.

Pages

SCENE II.

Enter Had-land and Slurre.
Slur.

Stay; yonder he comes.

Had.

Come, shal we go meet him?

Enter Wel-bred: Hadland and Slurre meet him, and justle him.
Wel.

Why how now Sir? What is the matter?

Had.

— Do you ask questions?

Hadland Strikes Wel-bred.

Wel.

Was ever man thus abused? I will dye a thousand times ra∣ther then suffer this —you base uncivil villain. —

Drawes, and so doth Had land and Slurre, they fight a little while, and wound Wel-bred, and go away.
Wel.

They are gone, but yet they have left somewhat behind them; for I do bleed a pace; the heat they have put mee into, has bol'd my blood up unto that height, that it will all run over; well, I must goe get a Surgeon as soon as I can.—

Exit, and enters again.

It doth bleed more and more, and I begin to grow weak and faint;

Page 31

The fatall hour doth certainly draw nigh; for me thinks I do begin to feel my life run out with my bloud. —

And now as when some impressions that the fancy doth by day receive, (other objects continually plying the sense) are not at all, or else but dully sensible, but at night appear more fresh then ever;

So, now me thinks, some odde kind of thoughts, which in the earnest pursuit of those things, my youth addicted me unto, I scarce did mark, (now I am going to my eternal rest) begin to stare upon me, and look somewhat strange. —

What a high piece of madnesse have I done, thus to lose my life about a trifle! I say, my life; that which is the chiefest good in nature, that to which all other goods are but subservient; nay, are not at all with∣out it? What competent end then can any man propose in hazarding of it, since in all reason that for which we hazard should be of more value then that we hazard?

What dishonour had it been to me, if by my wife declining I had gi∣ven some cause to think I had fear'd them, more then if in such case I had avoided a Beare or Oxe; for Honour, certainly, is nothing else but that respect and value that those things do draw, which buoy and prop one up in the world. Ths Wealth, Authority, good Friends▪ and Knowledg, (furnishing us with those means by which the greatst actions are performed) must needs beget a reverence and esteeme: but the force of the body is (without doubt) the most inconsiderable thing possible; he that enjoyes the greatest share of it, how small a power doth he therby acquire? We see he must be subject to each petty Constable; nay, a dagger or a pistol makes the weakest equall to him: 'Tis true, those powerfuller arts of the more nobler part are to be honoured and admired. These many times with strange subtle∣ties unite into one commanding power particular strengths, and being united, with as much cunning obtain its rule and Masterie. These flights we see, do make even weak, decrepit age, often formidable to▪ and threfore honoured by the world. —Had I this way imployed! —But oh!—

he faints. Enter two men.

1.

Help, help the Gentleman.

2.

What, is he dead?

1.

Almost, I think: look how he is wounded!

2.

Me thinks I should know him: I, certainly he is a customer of my Masters, and he lodges in Chancery-lane.

1.

We had best then to carry him thither.

2.

Pull out his hand-kercheife to help stop the blood.

He pulls it out, and withall pulls out the challenge La-gull gave him.
1.

Look, what is that? you had best to read it.

2.

What is this? I think it is a challenge.

1.

A Challenge! Jesu bless us; then it seems this was some duell:

Will these Gentleman never leave off these same scurvy Duells? —

Page 32

But wee had best to make haste whilst he hath any blood left in him.

They carry him out.
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