Courtiers seldom want Good-breeding; let's give the Devil his due. Why,
to tell you the truth, honest Gentlemen, we had a whole Budget full of
Grievances to complain of. But I think----a----Ha, Neighbour? We had
e'en as good let 'em alone.
_1 Tra._ Why good feath I think so too; for by all I can see, we are
like to make no great hond on't. Besides, between thee and me, I began
to daubt, whether aur Grievances do us such a plaguy deal of Mischief
as we fancy.
_2 Tra._ Or put the Case they did, _Humphry_; I'se afraid he that goes
to a Courtier, in hope to get fairly rid of 'em, may be said (in our
Country Dialect) to take the wrong Sow by the Ear. But here's Neighbour
_Roger_, he's a Wit, let's leave him to him.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter ~Roger~, a Country Bumkin, looks seriously upon ~Esop~;
then bursts out a laughing._
_Rog._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Did ever Mon behold the like? Ha, ha, ha,
ha, ha!
_Esop._ Hast thou any business with me, Friend?
_Rog._ Yes, by my troth, have I;
But if _Roger_ were to be hang'd up for't,
Look you now, he cou'd not hold laughing:
What I have in my Mind, out it comes: But bar that;
I'se on honest Lad as well as another.
_Esop._ My time's dearer to me than yours, Friend; have you any thing
to say to me?
_Rog._ Gadswookers, do People use to ask for Folks when they have
nothing to say to 'em: I'se tell you my Business.
_Esop._ Let's hear it.
_Rog._ I have, as you see, a little Wit.
_Esop._ True.
_Rog._ I live in a Village hard by, and I'se the best Man in it, tho'
I say it that should not say it. I have good Drink in my Cellar, and
good Corn in my Barn: I have Cows and Oxen, Hogs and Sheep, Cocks and
Hens, and Geese and Turkeys: But the Truth will out, and so let it
out. I'se e'en tired of being call'd plain _Roger_. I has a Leathern
Purse, and in that Purse there's many a fair Half-crown, with the
King's sweet Face upon it, God bless him; and with his Money, I have a
mind to bind myself 'Prentice to a Courtier: 'Tis a good Trade, as I
have heard say; there's Money stirring: Let a Lad be but diligent, and
do what he's bid, he shall be let into the Secret, and share Part of
the Profits; I have not lived to these Years for nothing: Those that
will swim must go into deep water: I'se get our Wife _Joan_ to be the
Queen's Chamber-maid; and then----Crack, says me I; and forget all
my Acquaintance. But to come to the Business. You who are the King's
great Favourite, I desire you'd be pleas'd to sell me some of your
Friendship, that I may get a Court-Place. Come, you shall chuse me one
yourself; you look like a shrewd Man; by the Mass, you do.
_Esop._ I chuse thee a Place!
_Rog._ Yes, I wou'd willingly have it such a sort of a Place, as wou'd
cost little, and bring in a great deal; in a Word, much Profit, and
nothing to do.
_Esop._ But you must name what Post you think wou'd suit your Humour.
_Rog._ Why I'se pratty indifferent as to that: Secretary of State, or
Butler; twenty Shillings more, or twenty Shillings less, is not the
thing I stand upon. I'se no Hagler, Godswookers; and he that says I
am--'Zbud he lies: There's my Humour now.
_Esop._ But hark you, Friend, you say you are well as you are, why then
do you desire to change?
_Rog._ Why what a Question now is there for a Man of your Parts? I'm
well, d'ye see me; and what of all that? I desire to be better: There's
an Answer for you. [_Aside._] Let _Roger_ alone with him.
_Esop._ Very well: This is reasoning; and I love a Man should reason
with me. But let us enquire a little whether your Reasons are good or
not. You say, at home you want for nothing?
_Rog._ Nothing, 'fore _George_.
_Esop._ You have good Drink?
_Rog._ 'Zbud, the best i'th' Parish. [_Singing._] And dawne it merrily
goes, my Lad, and dawne it merrily goes.
_Esop._ You eat heartily?
_Rog._ I have a noble Stomach.
_Esop._ You sleep well?
_Rog._ Just as I drink, till I can sleep no longer.
_Esop._ You have some honest Neighbours?
_Rog._ Honest! 'Zbud we are all so, the Tawne raund, we live like
Breether; when one can sarve another, he does it with all his Heart and
Guts; when we have any thing that's good, we eat it together, Holidays
and Sundays we play at Nine-pins, tumble upon the Grass with wholesome
young Maids, laugh till we split, daunce till we are weary, eat till we
burst, drink till we are sleepy, then swap into Bed, and snore till we
rise to Breakfast.
_Esop._ And all this thou wou'dst leave to go to Court? I'll tell thee
what once happen'd:
_A Mouse, who long had liv'd at Court, }
(Yet ne'er the better Christian for't) }
Walking one Day to see some Country Sport, }
He met a home-bred Village-Mouse;
Who with an awkward Speech and Bow, }
That savour'd much of Cart and Plow, }
Made a shift, I know not how, }
T' invite him to his House.
Quoth he, My Lord, I doubt you'll find
Our Country Fare of homely kind;
But by my troth, you're welcome to't,
Y'ave that, and Bread and Cheese to boot:
And so they sat and din'd._
_Rog._ Very well.
_Esop._ _The ~Courtier~ cou'd have eat at least
As much as any Houshold Priest,
But thought himself oblig'd in Feeding,
To shew the difference of Town breeding;
He pick'd and cull'd, and turn'd the Meat,
He champt and chew'd, and cou'd not eat:
No toothless Woman at Fourscore,
Was ever seen to mumble more.
He made a thousand ugly Faces, }
Which (as sometimes in Ladies cases) }
Were all design'd for Airs and Graces._ }
_Rog._ Ha, ha!
Esop. _At last he from the Table rose,
He pick'd his Teeth and blow'd his Nose,
And with an easy Negligence,
As tho' he lately came from France,
He made a careless sliding Bow:
'Fore Gad, quoth he, I don't know how
I shall return your friendly Treat;
But if you'll take a bit of Meat
In Town with me,
You there shall see,
How we poor Courtiers eat._
_Rog._ Tit for tat; that was friendly.
Esop. _There needed no more Invitation
To e'er a Country 'Squire i'th' Nation:
Exactly to the time he came,
Punctual as Woman when she meets
A Man between a pair of Sheets,
As good a Stomach, and as little Shame._
_Rog._ Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!
Esop. _To say the Truth, he found good Chear,
With Wine, instead of Ale and Beer:
But just as they sat down to eat,
Came bouncing in a hungry Cat._
_Rog._ O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!
Esop. _The nimble Courtier skipt from Table,
The 'Squire leapt too, as he was able:
It can't be said that they were beat,
It was no more than a Retreat;
Which when an Army, not to fight
By Day-light, runs away by Night,
Was ever judg'd a great and glorious Feat._
_Rog._ Ever, ever, ever.
Esop. _The Cat retir'd, our Guests return,
The Danger past becomes their Scorn,
They fall to eating as before,
The Butler rumbles at the Door._
_Rog._ Good Lord!
Esop. _To Boot and Saddle again they sound._
_Rog._ Ta ra, tan tan ta ra, ra ra tan ta ra.
Esop. _They frown, as they wou'd stand their Ground,
But (like some of our Friends) they found
'Twas safer much to scour._
_Rog._ Tantive, Tantive, Tantive, _&c._
Esop. _At length the 'Squire, who hated Arms,
Was so perplext with these Alarms,
He rose up in a kind of Heat,
Udswookers, quoth he, with all your Meat,
I will maintain, a Dish of Pease,
A Radish, and a Slice of Cheese,
With a good Desert of Ease,
Is much a better Treat.
However,
Since every Man shou'd have his due,
I own, Sir, I'm oblig'd to you
For your Intentions at your Board:
But Pox upon your courtly Crew----_
_Rog._ _Amen_, I pray the Lord. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Now the De'el
cuckold me if this Story be not worth a Sermon. Give me your Hond,
Sir.----If it had na' been for your friendly Advice, I was going to be
Fool enough to be Secretary of State.
_Esop._ Well, go thy ways home, and be wiser for the future.
_Rog._ And so I will: For that same Mause, your Friend, was a witty
Person, gadsbudlikins! and so our Wife _Joan_ shall know: For between
you and I, 'tis she has put me upon going to Court. Sir, she has been
so praud, so saucy, so rampant, ever since I brought her home a lac'd
Pinner, and a pink-colour'd pair of Shoe-strings, from _Tickledowne_
Fair, the Parson o'th' Parish can't rule her; and that you'll say's
much. But so much for that. Naw I thank you for your good Counsel,
honest little Gentleman; and to shew you that I'se not ungrateful--give
me your Hond once more----If you'll take the pains but to walk dawne to
our Towne--a Word in your Ear----I'se send you so drunk whome again,
you shall remember friendly _Roger_ as long as you have Breath in your
Body.
[_Exit ~Roger~_
_Esop. ~solus~._
Farewel, what I both envy and despise!
Thy Happiness and Ignorance provoke me.
How noble were the thing call'd Knowledge,
Did it but lead us to a Bliss like thine!
But there's a secret Curse in Wisdom's Train, }
Which on its Pleasures stamps perpetual Pain, }
And makes the wise Man Loser by his Gain. }
[_Exit._
[Illustration]
+ACT+ III.
_Enter ~Esop~._
_Esop._ Who waits there?
[_Enter Servant._
If there be any body that has Business with me, let 'em in.
_Serv._ Yes, Sir.
[_Exit Serv._
_Enter ~Quaint~, who stands at a distance, making a great
many fawning Bows._
_Esop._ Well, Friend, who are you?
_Quaint._ My Name's _Quaint_, Sir, the profoundest of all your Honour's
humble Servants.
_Esop._ And what may your Business be with me, Sir?
_Quaint._ My Business, Sir, with every Man, is first of all to do him
Service.
_Esop._ And your next is, I suppose, to be paid for't twice as much as
'tis worth.
_Quaint._ Your Honour's most obedient humble Servant.
_Esop._ Well, Sir, but upon what Account am I going to be oblig'd to
you?
_Quaint._ Sir, I'm a Genealogist.
_Esop._ A Genealogist!
_Quaint._ At your Service, Sir.
_Esop._ So, Sir?
_Quaint._ Sir, I am inform'd from common Fame, as well as from some
little private familiar Intelligence, that your Wisdom is ent'ring into
Treaty with the _Primum Mobilè_ of Good and Evil, a fine Lady. I have
travell'd, Sir; I have read, Sir; I have consider'd, Sir; and I find,
Sir, that the Nature of a fine Lady is to be----a fine Lady, Sir; a
fine Lady's a fine Lady, Sir, all the World over;----she loves a fine
House, fine Furniture, fine Clothes, fine Liveries, fine Petticoats,
fine Smocks; and if she stops there--she's a fine Lady indeed, Sir.
But to come to my Point. It being the _Lydian_ Custom, that the fair
Bride should be presented on her Wedding-day with something that
may signify the Merit and the Worth of her dread Lord and Master, I
thought the noble _Esop_'s Pedigree might be the welcom'st Gift that he
could offer. If his Honour be of the same Opinion--I'll speak a bold
Word--there's ne'er a Herald in all _Asia_ shall put better Blood in
his Veins, than--Sir, your humble Servant, _Jacob Quaint_.
_Esop._ Dost thou then know my Father, Friend? For I protest to thee I
am a Stranger to him.
_Quaint._ Your Father, Sir? Ha, ha! I know every Man's Father, Sir; and
every Man's Grandfather, and every Man's Great Grandfather. Why, Sir,
I'm a Herald by Nature, my Mother was a _Welchwoman_.
_Esop._ A _Welchwoman_? Pr'ythee of what Country is that?
_Quaint._ That, Sir, is a Country in the World's Backside, where
every Man is born a Gentleman and a Genealogist. Sir, I cou'd tell my
Mother's Pedigree before I could speak plain; which, to shew you the
Depth of my Art, and the Strength of my Memory, I'll trundle you down
in an instant. _Noah_ had three Sons, _Shem_, _Ham_, and _Japhet_;
_Shem_----
_Esop._ Hold, I conjure thee, in the Name of all thy Ancestors.
_Quaint._ Sir, I cou'd take it higher, but I begin at Noah for
brevity's sake.
_Esop._ No more on't, I intreat thee.
_Quaint._ Your Honour's impatient, perhaps, to hear your own Descent.
_A Word to the wise is enough._ Hem, hem! _Solomon_, the wise King of
_Judea_----
_Esop._ Hold, once more!
_Quaint._ Ha, ha! Your Honour's modest, but----_Solomon_, the wise King
of _Judea_----
_Esop._ Was my Ancestor, was he not?
_Quaint._ He was, my Lord, which no one sure can doubt, who observes
how much of Prince there hangs about you.
_Esop._ What! Is't in my Mien?
_Quaint._ You have something----wondrous noble in your Air.
_Esop._ Personable too; view me well.
_Quaint._ N----not Tall; but Majestick.
_Esop._ My Shape?
_Quaint._ A World of Symmetry in it.
_Esop._ The Lump upon my Back?
_Quaint._ N----not regular; but agreeable.
_Esop._ Now by my Honesty thou art a Villain, Herald. But Flattery's a
Thrust I never fail to parry. 'Tis a Pass thou should'st reserve for
young Fencers; with Feints like those they're to be hit: I do not doubt
but thou hast found it so; hast not?
_Quaint._ I must confess, Sir, I have sometimes made 'em bleed by't.
But I hope your Honour will please to excuse me, since, to speak the
Truth, I get my Bread by't, and maintain my Wife and Children: And
Industry, you know, Sir, is a commendable Thing. Besides, Sir, I have
debated the Business a little with my Conscience; for I'm like the rest
of my Neighbours, I'd willingly get Money, and be sav'd too, if the
Thing may be done upon any reasonable Terms: And so, Sir, I say, to
quiet my Conscience, I have found out at last, that Flattery is a Duty.
_Esop._ A Duty!
_Quaint._ Ay, Sir, a Duty: For the Duty of all Men is to make one
another pass their time as pleasantly as they can. Now, Sir, here's
a young Lord, who has a great deal of Land, a great deal of Title, a
great deal of Meat, a great deal of Noise, a great many Servants, and
a great many Diseases. I find him very dull, very restless, tir'd with
Ease, cloy'd with Plenty, a Burden to himself, and a Plague to his
Family. I begin to flatter: He springs off of the Couch; turns himself
round in the Glass; finds all I say true; cuts a Caper a yard high; his
Blood trickles round his Veins; his Heart's as light as his Heels; and
before I leave him----his Purse is as empty as his Head. So we both are
content; for we part much happier than we met.
_Esop._ Admirable Rogue! What dost thou think of Murder and of Rape,
are not they Duties too? Wert not for such vile fawning Things as thou
art, young Nobles wou'd not long be what they are: They'd grow asham'd
of Luxury and Ease, and rouse up the old Spirit of their Fathers; leave
the pursuit of a poor frightned Hare, and make their Foes to tremble in
their stead; furnish their Heads with Sciences and Arts, and fill their
Hearts with Honour, Truth and Friendship; Be generous to some, and
just to all; drive home their Creditors with Bags of Gold, instead of
chasing 'em away with Swords and Staves; be faithful to their King and
Country both, and stab the Offerer of a Bribe from either; blush even
at a wandering Thought of Vice, and boldly own they durst be Friends to
Virtue; trembling at nothing but the Frowns of Heaven, and be no more
asham'd of Him that made 'em.
_Quaint._ [_Aside._] If I stand to hear this Crump preach a little
longer, I shall be Fool enough perhaps to be bubbled out of my
Livelyhood, and so lose a Bird in the Hand for two in the Bush. Sir,
since I have not been able to bring you to a good Opinion of yourself,
'tis very probable I shall scarce prevail with you to have one of
me. But if you please to do me the favour to forget me, I shall ever
acknowledge myself----Sir, your most obedient, faithful, humble Servant.
_Esop._ Hold; if I let thee go, and give thee nothing, thou'lt be apt
to grumble at me; and therefore----who waits there?
_Enter Servant._
_Quaint._ [_Aside._] I don't like his Looks, by Gad.
_Esop._ I'll present thee with a Token of my Love.
_Quaint._ A--another time, Sir, will do as well.
_Esop._ No; I love to be out of Debt, tho' 'tis being out of the
Fashion. So, d'ye hear! Give this honest Gentleman half a score good
Strokes on the Back with a Cudgel.
_Quaint._ By no means in the World, Sir.
_Esop._ Indeed, Sir, you shall take 'em.
_Quaint._ Sir, I don't merit half your Bounty.
_Esop._ O 'tis but a Trifle!
_Quaint._ Your Generosity makes me blush.
[_Looking about to make his Escape._
_Esop._ That's your Modesty, Sir.
_Quaint._ Sir, you are pleased to compliment. But a----twenty Pedigrees
for a clear Coast.
[_Running off, the Servant after him._
_Esop._ Wait upon him down Stairs, Fellow; I'd do't myself, were I but
nimble enough; but he makes haste, to avoid Ceremony.
_Enter Servant._
_Serv._ Sir, here's a Lady in great haste, desires to speak with you.
_Esop._ Let her come in.
_Enter ~Aminta~, weeping._
_Amin._ O Sir, if you don't help me, I'm undone.
_Esop._ What, what's the Matter, Lady?
_Amin._ My Daughter, Sir, my Daughter's run away with a filthy Fellow.
_Esop._ A slippery Trick indeed!
_Amin._ For Heaven's sake, Sir, send immediately to pursue 'em, and
seize 'em. But 'tis in vain, 'twill be too late, 'twill be too late;
I'll warrant at this very Moment they are got together in a Room with
a Couch in't; all's gone, all's gone; tho' 'twere made of Gold, 'tis
lost: Oh! my Honour, my Honour. A forward Girl she was always; I saw
it in her Eyes the very Day of her Birth.
_Esop._ That indeed was early; but how do you know she's gone with a
Fellow?
_Amin._ I have e'en her own insolent Hand-writing for't: Sir, take but
the pains to read what a Letter she has left me.
_Esop._ Reads.
_I love and am belov'd, and that's the Reason I run away._
Short, but significant!----_I'm sure there's no Body knows better than
your Ladyship what Allowances are to be made to Flesh and Blood; I
therefore hope this from your Justice, that what you have done three
Times yourself, you'll pardon once in your Daughter._ _The Dickens!_
_Amin._ Now, Sir, what do you think of the Business?
_Esop._ Why truly, Lady, I think it one of the most natural Businesses
I have met with a great while. I'll tell you a Story.
_A Crab-fish once her Daughter told,
(In Terms that savour'd much of Scold)
She cou'd not bear to see her go
Sidle, sidle, to and fro:
The Devil's in the Wench, quoth she,
When so much Money has been paid
To polish you like me,
It makes me almost mad to see
Y'are still so awkward, an ungainly Jade.
Her Daughter smil'd, and look'd a-skew; }
She answer'd (for to give her her due) }
Pertly, as most Folks Daughters do: }
Madam, your Ladyship, quoth she,
Is pleas'd to blame in me
What, on Enquiry, you may find,
Admits a passable Excuse,
From a Proverb much in use,
~That Cat will after kind~._
_Amin._ Sir, I took you to be a Man better bred, than to liken a Lady
to a Crab-fish.
_Esop._ What I want in Good-breeding, Lady, I have in Truth and
Honesty: As what you have wanted in Virtue, you have had in a good Face.
_Amin._ Have had, Sir! What I have had, I have still; and shall have a
great while, I hope. I'm no Grandmother, Sir.
_Esop._ But in a fair way for't, Madam.
_Amin._ Thanks to my Daughter's Forwardness then, not my Years. I'd
have you to know, Sir, I have never a Wrinkle in my Face. A young pert
Slut! Who'd think she shou'd know so much at her Age?
_Esop._ Good Masters make quick Scholars, Lady; she has learn'd her
Exercise from you.
_Amin._ But where's the Remedy, Sir?
_Esop._ In trying if a good Example will reclaim her, as an ill one has
debauch'd her. Live private, and avoid Scandal.
_Amin._ Never speak it; I can no more retire, than I can go to Church
twice on a Sunday.
_Esop._ What, your youthful Blood boils in your Veins, I'll warrant?
_Amin._ I have Warmth enough to endure the Air, old Gentleman. I need
not shut myself up in a House these twenty Years.
_Esop._ [_Aside._] She takes a long Lease of Lewdness: She'll be an
admirable Tenant to Lust.
_Amin._ [_Walking hastily to and fro._] People think when a Woman is
turn'd Forty, she's old enough to turn out of the World: But I say,
when a Woman is turn'd Forty, she's old enough to have more Wit. The
most can be said is, her Face is the worse for wearing: I'll answer
for all the rest of her Fabrick. The Men wou'd be to be pity'd, by my
troth, wou'd they, if we shou'd quit the Stage, and leave 'em nothing
but a parcel of young pert Sluts, that neither know how to speak
Sense, nor keep themselves clean. But, don't let 'em fear, we a'n't
going yet----[_~Esop~ stares upon her, and as she turns from him, runs
off the Stage._] How now! What left alone! An unmannerly Piece of
Deformity! Methinks he might have had Sense enough to have made Love
to me. But I have found Men strangely dull for the last ten or twelve
Years: Sure they'll mend in Time, or the World won't be worth living in.
_For let Philosophers say all they can,
The Source of Women's Joys is plac'd in Man._
[Exit.
_Enter ~Learchus~ and ~Euphronia~, ~Doris~ following at
a Distance._
_Lear._ [_To Euph._] I must tell you, Mistress, I'm too mild with you;
Parents shou'd never intreat their Children, nor will I hereafter.
Therefore, in a Word, let _Esop_ be lov'd, let _Oronces_ be hated; let
one be a Peacock, let t'other be a Bat: I'm Father, you are Daughter; I
command, and you shall obey.
_Euph._ I never yet did otherwise; nor shall I now, Sir; but pray let
Reason guide you.
_Lear._ So it does: But 'tis my own, not yours, Hussy.
_Dor._ Ah--Well, I'll say no more; but were I in her Place, by the
Mass, I'd have a tug for't.
_Lear._ Dæmon, born to distract me! Whence art thou, in the Name of
Fire and Brimstone? Have I not satisfy'd thee? Have I not paid thee
what's thy due? And have not I turn'd thee out of Doors, with Orders
never more to stride my Threshold, ha? Answer, abominable Spirit; what
is't that makes thee haunt me?
_Dor._ A foolish Passion to do you good, in spite of your Teeth: Pox on
me for my Zeal, I say.
_Lear._ And Pox on thee, and thy Zeal too, I say.
_Dor._ Now if it were not for her Sake more than for yours, I'd leave
all to your own Management, to be reveng'd of you. But rather than I'll
see that sweet Thing sacrificed--I'll play the Devil in your House.
_Lear._ Patience, I summon thee to my Aid.
_Dor._ Passion, I defy thee; to the last Drop of my Blood I'll maintain
my Ground. What have you to charge me with? Speak! I love your Child
better than you do, and you can't bear that, ha? Is't not so? Nay,
'tis well y'are asham'd on't; there's some Sign of Grace still. Look
you, Sir, in a few Words, you'll make me mad; and 'twere enough to
make any Body mad (who has Brains enough to be so) to see so much
Virtue shipwreck'd at the very Port. The World never saw a Virgin
better qualify'd; so witty, so discreet, so modest, so chaste: in a
Word, I brought her up myself, and 'twould be the Death of me to see
so virtuous a Maid become a lewd Wife; which is the usual Effect of
Parents Pride and Covetousness.
_Lear._ How, Strumpet! wou'd any Thing be able to debauch my Daughter?
_Dor._ Your Daughter! Yes, your Daughter, and myself into the Bargain:
A Woman's but a Woman; and I'll lay a hundred Pound on Nature's side.
Come, Sir, few Words dispatch Business. Let who will be the Wife of
_Esop_, she's a Fool, or he's a Cuckold. But you'll never have a true
Notion of this Matter, till you suppose yourself in your Daughter's
Place. As thus: You are a pretty, soft, warm, wishing young Lady: I'm a
straight, proper, handsome, vigorous, young Fellow. You have a peevish,
positive, covetous, old Father, and he forces you to marry a little,
lean, crooked, dry, sapless Husband. This Husband's gone abroad, you
are left at home. I make you a Visit; find you all alone: the Servant
pulls to the Door; the Devil comes in at the Window. I begin to
wheedle, you begin to melt: you like my Person, and therefore believe
all I say: so first I make you an Atheist, and then I make you a Whore.
Thus the World goes, Sir.
_Lear._ Pernicious Pestilence! Has not thy eternal Tongue run down its
Larum yet?
_Dor._ Yes.
_Lear._ Then go out of my House, Abomination.
_Dor._ I'll not stir a Foot.
_Lear._ Who waits there? Bring me my great Stick.
_Dor._ Bring you a Stick! Bring you a Head-piece: That you'd call for,
if you knew your own wants.
_Lear._ Death and Furies, the Devil and so forth! I shall run
distracted.
_Euph._ Pray, Sir, don't be so angry at her. I'm sure she means well,
tho' she may have an odd way of expressing herself.
_Lear._ What, you like her meaning? Who doubts it, Offspring of
_Venus_? But I'll make you stay your Stomach with Meat of my chusing,
you liquorish young Baggage you. In a Word, _Esop_'s the Man; and
to-morrow he shall be your Lord and Master. But since he can't be
satisfied unless he has your Heart, as well as all the rest of your
Trumpery, let me see you receive him in such a Manner that he may
think himself your Choice as well as mine; 'twill make him esteem your
Judgment: For we usually guess at other People's Understandings, by
their approving our Actions and liking our Faces. See here, the great
Man comes! [_To ~Dor~._] Follow me, Insolence; and leave 'em to express
their Passion to each other. [_To ~Euph~._] Remember my last Word to
you is, Obey.
_Dor._ [_To ~Euph.~ aside._] And remember my last Advice to you is,
Rebel.
[_Exit ~Lear.~ ~Dor.~ following him._