_Lady Fan._ [_Aside._] Confusion seize 'em, as it seizes me!
Madam. _Que le Diable e toute ce Mauraut de ~Rasor~._
_Bel._ Your Ladyship seems disorder'd: A breeding Qualm, perhaps, Mr.
_Heartfree_: Your Bottle of Hungary Water to your Lady. Why, Madam, he
stands as unconcern'd, as if he were your Husband in earnest.
_Lady Fan._ Your Mirth's as nauseous as yourself. _Belinda_, you think
you triumph over a Rival now: _Helas! ma pauvre fille._ Where'er I'm
Rival, there's no Cause for Mirth. No, my poor Wretch, 'tis from
another Principle I have acted. I knew that Thing there wou'd make
so perverse a Husband, and you so impertinent a Wife, that left your
mutual Plagues should make you both run mad, I charitably would have
broke the Match. He! he! he! he! he!
[_Exit, laughing affectedly, ~Madamoiselle~ following her._
_Madam._ He! he! he! he! he!
_All._ Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
_Sir John._ [_Aside._] Why, now, this Woman will be married to
somebody, too.
_Bel._ Poor Creature! what a Passion she's in! But I forgive her.
_Heart._ Since you have so much Goodness for her, I hope you'll pardon
my Offence, too, Madam.
_Bel._ There will be no great Difficulty in that, since I am guilty of
an equal Fault.
_Heart._ Then Pardons being past on all sides, pray let's to Church to
conclude the Day's Work.
_Const._ But before you go, let me treat you, pray, with a Song a
new-married Lady made within this Week; it may be of use to you both.
SONG.
I.
_When yielding first to ~Damon's~ Flame,
I sunk into his Arms;
He swore he'd ever be the same,
Then rifled all my Charms.
But fond of what he'd long desir'd,
Too greedy of his Prey,
My Shepherd's Flame, alas! expir'd
Before the Verge of Day._
II.
_My Innocence in Lovers Wars
Reproach'd his quick Defeat;
Confus'd, asham'd, and bath'd in Tears,
I mourn'd his cold Retreat.
At length, Ah Shepherdess! cry'd he,
Wou'd you my Fire renew,
Alas, you must retreat like me,
I'm lost if you pursue._
_Heart._ So, Madam; now had the Parson but done his Business----
_Bel._ You'd be half weary of your Bargain.
_Heart._ No, sure, I might dispense with one Night's Lodging.
_Bel._ I'm ready to try, Sir.
_Heart._ Then let's to Church: And if it be our Chance to disagree----
_Bel._ Take heed--the surly Husband's Fate you see.
[_Exeunt omnes._
[Illustration]
EPILOGUE,
By Another Hand.
Spoken by Lady =Brute= and =Belinda=.
Lady Brute. _No Epilogue_!
_Belinda._ _I swear I know of none._ }
_Lord! How shall we excuse it to the Town?_ }
_Bel._ _Why, we must e'en say something of our own._ }
Lady Brute. _Our own! Ay, that must needs be precious stuff._
_Bel._ _I'll lay my Life, they'll like it well enough.
Come, faith, begin----_
Lady Brute. _Excuse me, after you._
_Bel._ _Nay, pardon me for that, I know my Cue._
Lady Brute. _O for the World, I would not have Precedence._
_Bel._ _O Lord!_
Lady Brute. _I swear----_
_Bel._ _O fye!_
Lady Brute. _I'm all Obedience.
First then, know all, before our Doom is fixt,
The Third Day is for us----_
_Bel._ _Nay, and the Sixth._
Lady Brute. _We speak not from the Poet now, nor is it
His Cause--(I want a Rhyme)_
_Bel._ _That we sollicit._
Lady Brute. _Then sure you cannot have the Hearts to be severe
And damn us----_
_Bel._ _Damn us! Let 'em if they dare._
Lady Brute. _Why, if they should, what Punishment remains?_
_Bel._ _Eternal Exile from behind our Scenes._
Lady Brute. _But if they're kind, that Sentence we'll recal.
We can be grateful----_
_Bel._ _And have wherewithal._
Lady Brute. _But at Grand ~Treaties~ hope not to be trusted,
Before ~Preliminaries~ are adjusted._
_Bel._ _You know the Time, and we appoint the Place;
Where, if you please, we'll meet and sign the Peace._
[Illustration]
Upon the revival of this Play in 1725, Sir _John Vanbrugh_
thought proper to write the two following Scenes, in the room of
those printed Page 166,-168, 173, _&c. &c._
+ACT+ IV.
+SCENE+, _Covent-Garden_.
_Enter Lord ~Rake~, Sir ~John~, &c. with Swords drawn._
_Lord Rake._ Is the Dog dead?
_Col. Bully._ No, damn him, I heard him wheeze.
_Lord Rake._ How the Witch his Wife howl'd?
_Col. Bully._ Aye, she'll alarm the Watch presently.
_Lord Rake._ Appear, Knight, then: Come, you have a good Cause to fight
for, there's a Man murder'd.
_Sir John._ Is there? Then let his Ghost be satisfy'd: for I'll
sacrifice a Constable to it presently, and burn his Body upon his
wooden Chair.
_Enter a Taylor, with a Bundle under his Arm._
_Col. Bully._ How now! what have we got here? A Thief?
_Taylor._ No an't please you, I'm no Thief.
_Lord Rake._ That we'll see presently: Here! let the General examine
him.
_Sir John._ Ay, ay, let me examine him; and I'll lay a hundred
Pound I find him guilty in spite of his Teeth----for he looks--like
a----sneaking Rascal. Come, Sirrah, without Equivocation or mental
Reservation, tell me of what Opinion you are, and what Calling; for by
them----I shall guess at your Morals.
_Taylor._ An't please you, I'm a Dissenting Journeyman Woman's Taylor.
_Sir John._ Then, Sirrah, you love Lying by your Religion, and Theft
by your Trade: And so, that your Punishment may be suitable to your
Crimes----I'll have you first gagg'd----and then hang'd.
_Tayl._ Pray, good worthy Gentlemen, don't abuse me: Indeed I'm an
honest Man, and a good Workman, tho' I say it, that shou'd not say it.
_Sir John._ No Words, Sirrah, but attend your Fate.
_Lord Rake._ Let me see what's in that Bundle.
_Tayl._ An't please you, it's my Lady's short Cloak and Sack.
_Sir John._ What Lady, you Reptile, you?
_Tayl._ My Lady _Brute_, an't please your Honour.
_Sir John._ My Lady _Brute_! my Wife! the Robe of my Wife--with
Reverence let me approach it. The dear Angel is always taking Care of
me in Danger, and has sent me this Suit of Armour to protect me in this
Day of Battle; on they go.
_All._ O brave Knight!
_Lord Rake._ Live _Don Quixote_ the Second!
_Sir John._ _Sancho_, my 'Squire, help me on with my Armour.
_Tayl._ O dear Gentlemen! I shall be quite undone if you take the Sack.
_Sir John._ Retire, Sirrah! and since you carry off your Skin, go home
and be happy.
_Tayl._ I think I'd e'en as good follow the Gentleman's Advice, for
if I dispute any longer, who knows but the whim may take 'em to case
me--These Courtiers are fuller of Tricks than they are of Money:
they'll sooner break a Man's Bones, than pay his Bill.
[_Exit ~Tayl~._
_Sir John._ So! how d'ye like my shapes now?
_Lord Rake._ To a Miracle! He looks like a Queen of the _Amazons_--But
to your Arms! Gentlemen! The Enemy's upon their March--here's the
Watch--
_Sir John._ 'Oons! if it were _Alexander_ the Great, at the Head of
his Army, I would drive him into a Horse-Pond.
_All._ Huzza! O brave Knight!
_Enter Watchmen._
_Sir John._ See! Here he comes, with all his _Greeks_ about him--Follow
me, Boys.
_Watch._ Hey-dey! Who have we got here?--Stand.
_Sir John._ May-hap not!
_Watch._ What are you all doing here in the Streets at this time
o'night? And who are you, Madam, that seem to be at the Head of this
noble Crew?
_Sir John._ Sirrah, I am _Bonduca_, Queen of the _Welchmen_; and with a
Leek as long as my Pedigree, I will destroy your _Roman_ Legion in an
Instant--_Britons_, strike home.
[_They fight off. ~Watch.~ return with Sir ~John~._
_Watch._ So! We have got the Queen, however! We'll make her pay well
for her Ransom--Come, Madam, will your Majesty please to walk before
the Constable?
_Sir John._ The Constable's a Rascal! And you are a Son of a Whore!
_Watch._ A most noble Reply, truly! If this be her royal Style, I'll
warrant her Maids of Honour prattle prettily: But we'll teach you some
of our Court Dialect before we part with you, Princess--Away with her
to the Round-house.
_Sir John._ Hands off, you Ruffians! My Honour's dearer to me than my
Life; I hope you won't be uncivil.
_Watch._ Away with her.
[_Exeunt._
+SCENE+, _A Street_.
_Enter Constable and Watchmen, with Sir ~John~._
_Constab._ Come, forsooth, come along, if you please! I once in
Compassion thought to have seen you safe home this Morning: But you
have been so rampant and abusive all Night, I shall see what the
Justice of Peace will say to you.
_Sir John._ And you shall see what I'll say to the Justice of Peace.
[_~Watchman~ knocks at the Door._
_Enter Servant._
_Constab._ Is Mr. Justice at home?
_Serv._ Yes.
_Constab._ Pray acquaint his Worship we have got an unruly Woman here,
and desire to know what he'll please to have done with her.
_Serv._ I'll acquaint my Master.
[_Exit Serv._
_Sir John._ Hark you, Constable, what cuckoldly Justice is this?
_Const._ One that knows how to deal with such Romps as you are, I'll
warrant you.
_Enter Justice._
_Just._ Well, Mr. Constable, what is the matter there?
_Const._ An't please your Worship, this here comical sort of a
Gentlewoman has committed great Outrages to-night. She has been
frolicking with my Lord _Rake_ and his Gang; they attacked the Watch,
and I hear there has been a Man kill'd: I believe 'tis they have done
it.
_Sir John._ Sir, there may have been Murder, for aught I know; and 'tis
a great Mercy there has not been a Rape too--that Fellow wou'd have
ravish'd me.
_2d Watch._ Ravish! Ravish! O lud! O lud! O lud! Ravish her! Why,
please your Worship, I heard Mr. Constable say he believed she was
little better than a Maphrodite.
_Just._ Why, truly, she does seem a little masculine about the Mouth.
_2d Watch._ Yes, and about the Hands too, an't please your Worship;
I did but offer in mere civility to help her up the Steps into our
Apartment, and with her gripen Fist--ay, just so, Sir.
[_Sir ~John~ knocks him down._
_Sir John._ I fell'd him to the Ground like an Ox.
_Just._ Out upon this boisterous Woman! Out upon her.
_Sir John._ Mr. Justice, he wou'd have been uncivil! It was in Defence
of my Honour, and I demand Satisfaction.
_2d Watch._ I hope your Worship will satisfy her Honour in Bridewell;
that Fist of hers will make an admirable Hemp-beater.
_Sir John._ Sir, I hope you will protect me against that libidinous
Rascal; I am a Woman of Quality and Virtue too, for all I am in an
Undress this Morning.
_Just._ Why, she has really the Air of a Sort of a Woman a little
something out of the common----Madam, if you expect I shou'd be
favourable to you, I desire I may know who you are.
_Sir John._ Sir, I am any body, at your Service.
_Just._ Lady, I desire to know your Name?
_Sir John._ Sir, my Name's _Mary_.
_Just._ Ay, but your Sur-name, Madam?
_Sir John._ Sir, my Sur-name's the very same with my Husband's.
_Just._ A strange Woman this! Who is your Husband, pray?
_Sir John._ Sir _John_.
_Just._ Sir _John_ who?
_Sir John._ Sir _John Brute_.
_Just._ Is it possible, Madam, you can be my Lady _Brute_?
_Sir John._ That happy Woman, Sir, am I; only a little in my Merriment
to-night.
_Just._ I am concern'd for Sir _John_.
_Sir John._ Truly, so am I.
_Just._ I have heard he's an honest Gentleman----
_Sir John._ As ever drank.
_Just._ Good lack! Indeed, Lady, I'm sorry he has such a Wife.
_Sir John._ I am sorry he has any Wife at all.
_Just._ And so perhaps may he----I doubt you have not given him a very
good Taste of Matrimony.
_Sir John._ Taste, Sir! Sir, I have scorn'd to stint him to a Taste, I
have given him a full Meal of it.
_Just._ Indeed I believe so! But pray, fair Lady, may he have given
you any Occasion for this extraordinary Conduct?--Does he not use you
well?
_Sir John._ A little upon the rough sometimes.
_Just._ Ay, any Man may be out of Humour now and then.
_Sir John._ Sir, I love Peace and Quiet, and when a Woman don't find
that at home, she's apt sometimes to comfort herself with a few
innocent Diversions abroad.
_Just._ I doubt he uses you but too well. Pray how does he as to that
weighty thing, Money? Does he allow you what is proper of that?
_Sir John._ Sir, I have generally enough to pay the reckoning, if this
Son of a Whore of a Drawer wou'd but bring his Bill.
_Just._ A strange Woman this--Does he spend a reasonable Portion of his
time at home, to the Comfort of his Wife and Children?
_Sir John._ He never gave his Wife cause to repine at his being abroad
in his Life.
_Just._ Pray, Madam, how may he be in the grand matrimonial Point----Is
he true to your Bed?
_Sir John._ Chaste! Oons! This Fellow asks so many impertinent
Questions! I'gad, I believe it is the Justice's Wife in the Justice's
Clothes.
_Just._ 'Tis a great pity he should have been thus disposed of--Pray,
Madam, (and then I've done) what may be your Ladyship's common Method
of Life, if I may presume so far?
_Sir John._ Why, Sir, much that of a Woman of Quality.
_Just._ Pray how may you generally pass your time, Madam? Your Morning,
for example.
_Sir John._ Sir, like a Woman of Quality----I wake about two o'Clock in
the Afternoon----I stretch--and make a sign for my Chocolate----When
I have drank three Cups--I slide down again upon my Back, with my
Arms over my Head, while my two Maids put on my Stockings----Then
hanging upon their Shoulders, I am trail'd to my great Chair, where I
sit----and yawn----for my Breakfast----If it don't come presently, I
lie down upon my Couch to say my Prayers, while my Maid reads me the
Play-bills.
_Just._ Very well, Madam.
_Sir John._ When the Tea is brought in, I drink twelve regular Dishes,
with eight Slices of Bread and Butter----And half an Hour after, I send
to the Cook to know if the Dinner is almost ready.
_Just._ So! Madam!
_Sir John._ By that time my Head is half drest, I hear my Husband
swearing himself into a State of Perdition, that the Meat's all cold
upon the Table; to amend which, I come down in an Hour more, and have
it sent back to the Kitchen, to be all drest over again.
_Just._ Poor Man!
_Sir John._ When I have din'd, and my idle Servants are presumptuously
set down at their Ease, to do so too, I call for my Coach, to go visit
fifty dear Friends, of whom I hope I shall never find one at home,
while I shall live.
_Just._ So! There's the Morning and Afternoon pretty well dispos'd
of--Pray, Madam, how do you pass your Evenings?
_Sir John._ Like a Woman of Spirit, Sir, a great Spirit. Give me a Box
and Dice--Seven's the main, Oons! Sir, I set you a hundred Pound! Why,
do you think Women are married now-a-Days, to sit at home and mend
Napkins? Sir, we have nobler ways of passing time.
_Just._ Mercy upon us, Mr. Constable, what will this Age come to?
_Constab._ What will it come to, indeed, if such Women as these are not
set in the Stocks?
_Sir John._ Sir, I have a little urgent Business calls upon me; and
therefore I desire the Favour of you to bring Matters to a Conclusion.
_Just._ Madam, if I were sure that Business were not to commit more
Disorders, I wou'd release you.
_Sir John._ None----by my virtue.
_Just._ Then, Mr. Constable, you may discharge her.
_Sir John._ Sir, your very humble Servant. If you please to accept of a
Bottle----
_Just._ I thank you, kindly, Madam; but I never drink in a Morning.
Good by t'ye.
_Sir John._ Good-by-t'ye, good Sir.
[_Exit Justice._
So----now, Mr. Constable, shall you and I go pick up a Whore together?
_Constab._ No, thank you, Madam; my Wife's enough to satisfy any
reasonable Man.
_Sir John._ [_Aside._] He, he, he, he, he----the Fool is married, then.
Well, you won't go?
_Constab._ Not I, truly.
_Sir John._ Then I'll go by myself; and you and your Wife may be damn'd.
[_Exit Sir ~John~._
_Constable._ _gazing after her._] Why, God-a-mercy, Lady.
[_Exeunt._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_ESOP_:
A
COMEDY.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
PREFACE.
To speak for a Play, if it cannot speak for itself, is vain; and if it
can, it is needless. For one of these Reasons (I cannot yet tell which,
for it is now but the second Day of acting) I resolve to say nothing
for _Esop_, though I know he would be glad of Help; for let the best
happen that can, his Journey is up Hill, with a dead _English_ Weight
at the Tail of him.
At _Paris_, indeed, he scrambled up something faster (for it was
up Hill there, too) than I am afraid he will do here: The _French_
having more Mercury in their Heads, and less Beef and Pudding in their
Bellies. Our Solidity may set hard, what their Folly makes easy; for
Fools I own they are, you know we have found them so in the Conduct of
the War; I wish we may do so in the Management of the Peace; but that
is neither _Esop_'s Business nor mine.
This Play, Gentlemen (or one not much unlike it), was writ in _French_
about six Years since by one Monsieur _Boursaut_; it was play'd at
_Paris_ by the _French_ Comedians, and this was its Fate.
The first Day it appeared, it was routed (People seldom being fond of
what they do not understand, their own sweet Persons excepted). The
second (by the help of some bold Knights-Errant) it rallied; the third
it advanced; the fourth it gave a vigorous Attack; and the fifth
put all the Feathers in Town to the scamper, pursuing them on to the
fourteenth, and then they cried out Quarter.
It is not reasonable to expect _Esop_ should gain so great a Victory
here, since it is possible, by fooling with his Sword, I may have
turned the Edge on't. For I confess in the Translation I have not at
all stuck to the Original; nay, I have gone farther: I have wholly
added the fifth Act, and crouded a Country Gentleman into the fourth;
for which I ask Monsieur _Boursaut_'s Pardon with all my Heart, but
doubt I never shall obtain it for bringing him into such Company.
Though, after all, had I been so complaisant to have waited on his Play
Word for Word, it is possible, even that might not have ensured the
Success of it; for though it swam in _France_, it might have sunk in
_England_. Their Country abounds in Cork, ours in Lead.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
PROLOGUE.
_Gallants, we never yet produc'd a Play
With greater Fears than this we act to-day;
Barren of all the Graces of the Stage,
Barren of all that entertains this Age.
No Hero, no Romance, no Plot, no Shew,
No Rape, no Bawdy, no Intrigue, no Beau:
There's nothing in't with which we use to please ye;
With downright dull Instruction w'are to tease ye;
The Stage turns Pulpit, and the World's so fickle,
The Play-House in a Whim turns Conventicle.
But Preaching here must prove a hungry Trade;
The Patentees will find so, I'm afraid:
For tho' with heavenly Zeal you all abound,
As by your Lives and Morals may be found;
Tho' every Female here o'erflows with Grace,
And chaste ~Diana~'s written in her Face;
Tho' Maids renounce the Sweets of Fornication,
And one lewd Wife's not left in all the Nation;
Tho' Men grow true, and the foul Fiend defy;
Tho' Tradesmen cheat no more, nor Lawyers lye;
Tho' not one Spot be found on ~Levi~'s Tribe,
Nor one soft Courtier that will touch a Bribe;
Yet in the midst of such religious Days,
Sermons have never borne the Price of Plays._
Dramatis Personæ.
MEN.
_Esop_, Mr. _Cibber_.
_Learchus_, Governor of _Sysicus_, Mr. _Dogget_.
_Oronces_, in love with _Euphronia_, Mr. _Harland_.
WOMEN.
_Euphronia_, Daughter to _Learchus_, in } Mrs. _Temple_.
love with _Oronces_, }
_Doris_, her Nurse, Mrs. _Verbruggen_.
People who come to _Esop_, upon several Occasions,
independent one of another.
Two Country Tradesmen, } Mr. _Pinkethman_ and
} Mr. _Smeton_.
_Roger_, a Country Bumpkin, Mr. _Haynes_.
_Quaint_, a Herald, Mr. _Pinkethman_.
_Fruitful_, an Inn-keeper, Mr. _Smeton_.
A Country Gentleman, Mr. _Pinkethman_.
A Priest, Musicians, &c.
_Hortensia_, an affected learned Lady, Mrs. _Kent_.
_Aminta_, a lewd Mother, Mrs. _Willis_.
_Forge-Will_, a Scrivener's Widow, Mrs. _Finch_.
_Fruitful_, Wife to the Inn-keeper, Mrs. _Powell_.
[Illustration]
_ESOP._
[Illustration]
+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.
+SCENE+, Learchus's _House_.
_Enter ~Learchus~, ~Euphronia~, and ~Doris~._
_Lear._ At length I am blest with the sight of the World's Wonder, the
Delight of Mankind, the incomparable _Esop_. You had time to observe
him last Night, Daughter, as he sat at Supper with me. Tell me how you
like him, Child; is he not a charming Person?
_Euph._ Charming!
_Lear._ What say'st thou to him, _Doris_? Thou art a good Judge, a
Wench of a nice Palate.
_Dor._ You wou'd not have me flatter, Sir?
_Lear._ No, speak thy Thoughts boldly.
_Dor._ Boldly, you say?
_Lear._ Boldly, I say.
_Dor._ Why, then, Sir, my Opinion of the Gentleman is, that he's uglier
than an old Beau.
_Lear._ How! Impudence.
_Dor._ Nay, if you are angry, Sir, second Thoughts are best; he's as
proper as a Pikeman, holds up his Head like a Dancing-Master, has the
Shape of a Barb, the Face of an Angel, the Voice of a Cherubim, the
Smell of a Civet-Cat----
_Lear._ In short, thou art Fool enough not to be pleas'd with him.
_Dor._ Excuse me for that, Sir; I have Wit enough to make myself merry
with him----
_Lear._ If his Body's deform'd, his Soul is beautiful: Would to kind
Heaven, as he is, my Daughter cou'd but find the means to please him!
_Euph._ To what End, dear Father?
_Lear._ That he might be your Husband, dear Daughter.
_Euph._ My Husband! Shield me, kind Heaven----
_Dor._ Psha! he has a mind to make us laugh, that's all.
_Lear._ _Esop_, then, is not worth her Care, in thy Opinion?
_Dor._ Why, truly, Sir, I'm always for making suitable Matches, and
don't much approve of breeding Monsters. I wou'd have nothing marry a
Baboon, but what has been got by a Monkey.
_Lear._ How dar'st thou liken so incomparable a Man to so contemptible
a Beast?
_Dor._. Ah, the Inconstancy of this World! Out of sight, out f Mind.
Your little Monkey is scarce cold in his Grave, and you have already
forgot what you us'd so much to admire: Do but call him to remembrance,
Sir, in his red Coat, new Gloves, little Hat, and clean Linen; then
discharge your Conscience, utter the Truth from your Heart, and tell us
whether he was not the prettier Gentleman of the two--By my Virginity,
Sir, (tho' that's but a slippery Oath, you'll say) had they made love
to me together, _Esop_ should have worn the Willow.
_Lear._ Since nothing but an Animal will please thee, 'tis pity my
Monkey had not that Virginity thou hast sworn by. But I, whom Wisdom
charms even in the homeliest Dress, can never think the much-deserving
_Esop_ unworthy of my Daughter.
_Dor._ Now, in the Name of Wonder, what is't you so admire in him?
_Lear._ Hark, and thou shalt know; but you, _Euphronia_,
Be you more especially attentive.
'Tis true he's plain; but that's, my Girl, a Trifle.
All manly Beauty's seated in the Soul;
And that of _Esop_, Envy's self must own,
Outshines whate'er the World has yet produc'd.
_Crœsus_, the prosperous Favourite of Heaven;
_Crœsus_, the happiest Potentate on Earth;
Whose Treasure (tho' immense) is the least Part
Of what he holds from Providence's Care,
Leans on his Shoulder as his grand Support,
Admires his Wisdom, doats upon his Truth,
And makes him Pilot to Imperial Sway.
But in this elevated Post of Power,
What's his Employ? Where does he point his Thoughts?
To live in Splendour, Luxury, and Ease,
Do endless Mischiefs, by neglecting Good,
And build his Family on other's Ruins?
No:
He serves the Prince, and serves the People too;
Is useful to the Rich, and helps the Poor;
There's nothing stands neglected, but himself.
With constant Pain, and yet with constant Joy,
From Place to Place throughout the Realm he goes,
With useful Lessons, form'd to every Rank:
The People learn Obedience from his Tongue,
The Magistrate is guided in Command,
The Prince is minded of a Father's Care,
The Subjects taught the Duty of a Child.
And as 'tis dangerous to be bold with Truth,
He often calls for Fable to his Aid,
Where, under abject Names of Beasts and Birds,
Virtue shines out, and Vice is cloath'd in Shame.
And thus, by inoffensive Wisdom's Force,
He conquers Folly wheresoe'er he moves:
This is his Portrait.
_Dor._ A very good Picture of a very ill Face!
_Lear._ Well, Daughter; what, not a Word? Is it possible any thing
that I am Father of can be untouch'd with so much Merit?
_Euph._ My Duty may make all things possible: But _Esop_ is so ugly,
Sir--