_Lap._ I have been ruminating with my self, What honor a man loses by a kick: Why; what's a kick? the fury of a foot, Whose indignation commonly is stampt Upon the hinder quarter of a man: Which is a place very unfit for honor, The world will confess so much: Then what disgrace I pray, does th[a]t part surfer Where honor never comes, I'de fain know that? This being well forc'd, and urg'd, may have the power To move most Gallants to take kicks in time, And spurn out the duelloes out o' th' kingdom, For they that stand upon their honor most, When they conceive there is no honor lost, As by a Table that I have invented For that purpose alone, shall appear plainly, Which shews the vanity of all blows at large. And with what ease they may be took of all sides, Numbring but twice o'er the Letters patience From _C. P._ to _E._ I doubt not but in small time To see a dissolution of all bloud-shed, If the reform'd _Kick_ do but once get up: For what a lamentable folly 'tis, If we observe't, for every little justle, Which is but the ninth part of a sound thump, In our meek computation, we must fight forsooth, yes, If I kill, I'm hang'd; if I be kill'd my self, I dye for't also: is not this trim wisdom? Now for the _Con_, a ma[n] may be well beaten, Yet pass away his fourscore years smooth after: I had a Father did it, and to my power I will not be behind him. _Enter_ Shamont. _Sham._ Oh well met. _Lap._ Now a fine _punch_ or two, I look for't duly. _Sham._ I've been to seek you. _Lap._ Let me know your Lodging, Sir, I'll come to you once a day, and use your pleasure, Sir. _Sham._ I'm made the fittest man for thy society: I'll live and dye with thee, come shew me a chamber; There is no house but thine, but only thine, That's fit to cover me: I've took a blow, sirrah. _Lap._ I would you had indeed: why, you may see, Sir; You'll all come to't in time, when my Book's out. _Sham._ Since I did see thee last, I've took a blow. _Lap._ Pha Sir, that's nothing: I ha' took forty since. _Sham._ What? and I charg'd thee thou shouldst not? _Lap._ I Sir, you might charge your pleasure. But they would give't me, whether I would or no. _Sham._ Oh, I walk without my peace, I've no companion now; Prethee resolve me, for I cannot aske A man more beaten to experience, Than thou art in this kind, what manner of blow Is held the most disgraceful, or distasteful? For thou dost only censure 'em by the hurt, Not by the shame they do thee: yet having felt Abuses of all kinds, thou may'st deliver, Though't be by chance, the most injurious one. _Lap._ You put me to't, Sir; but to tell you truth, They're all as one with me, little exception. _Sham._ That little may do much, let's have it from you.