Chapter VIII: Part 8

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._

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._

_ESOP_:

A

COMEDY.

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.

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_.

_ESOP._

+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--

_Lear._ His Soul has so much Beauty in't, your Reason ought to blind your Eyes: Besides, my Interest is concern'd; his Power alarms me. I know throughout the Kingdom he's the Scourge of evil Magistrates, turns out Governors when they turn Tyrants; breaks Officers for false Musters; excludes Judges from giving Sentence, when they have been absent during the Trial; hangs Lawyers when they take Fees on both Sides; forbids Physicians to take Money of those they don't cure. 'Tis true, my Innocence ought to banish my Fears: But my Government, Child, is too delicious a Morsel, not to set many a frail Mouth a-watering. Who knows what Accusations Envy may produce? But all wou'd be secure, if thou could'st touch the Heart of _Esop_. Let me blow up thy Ambition, Girl; the Fire of that will make thy Eyes sparkle at him. [_She sighs._]----What's that Sigh for, now? Ha! A young Husband, by my Conscience: Ah Daughter, hadst thou a young Husband, he'd make thee sigh indeed. I'll tell thee what he's compos'd of. He has a Wig full of Pulvilio, a Pocket full of Dice, a Heart full of Treason, a Mouth full of Lyes, a Belly full of Drink, a Carcase full of Plaisters, a Tail full of Pox, and a Head full of----nothing. There's his Picture: wear it at thy Heart, if thou can'st but here comes one of greater Worth.

_Enter ~Esop~._

_Lear._ Good Morning to my noble Lord; your Excellency----

_Esop._ Softly, good Governor: I'm a poor Wanderer from Place to Place; too weak to train the Weight of Grandeur with me! The Name of Excellency's not for me.

_Lear._ My noble Lord, 'tis due to your Imploy; your Predecessors all----

_Esop._ My Predecessors all deserv'd it, Sir; they were great Men in Wisdom, Birth and Service; whilst I, a poor, unknown, decrepid Wretch, mounted aloft for Fortune's Pastime, expect each Moment to conclude the Farce, by sinking to the Mud from whence I sprung.

_Lear._ Great _Crœsus_'s Gratitude will still support you; his Coffers all are open to your Will, your future Fortune's wholly in your Power.

_Esop._ But 'tis a Power that I shall ne'er employ.

_Lear._ Why so, my Lord?

_Esop._ I'll tell you, Sir.

_A hungry Goat, who had not eat
Some Nights and Days----(for want of Meat)
Was kindly brought at last,
By Providence's Care,
To better Cheer,
After a more than penitential Fast.
He found a Barn well stor'd with Grain:
To enter in requir'd some Pain;
But a delicious Bait
Makes the Way easy, tho' the Pass is strait.
Our Guest observing various Meats,
He put on a good modish Face,
He takes his Place,
He ne'er says Grace,
But where he likes, he there falls to and eats.
At length, with jaded Teeth and Jaws,
He made a Pause;
And finding still some room,
Fell to as he had done before,
For time to come laid in his Store;
And when his Guts cou'd hold no more,
He thought of going home.
But here he met the Glutton's Curse;
He found his Belly grown so great,
'Twas vain to think of a Retreat,
Till he had render'd all he had eat,
And well he far'd no worse._

To the Application, Governor.

_Lear._ 'Tis easy to be made, my Lord.

_Esop._ I'm glad on't, Truth can never be too clear. [_Seeing ~Euph~._] Is this young Damsel your fair Daughter, Sir?

_Lear._ 'Tis my Daughter, my good Lord: Fair too, if she appears such in the Eyes of the unerring _Esop_.

_Esop._ [_Going up to salute her._] I never saw so beautiful a Creature.

_Lear._ [_Aside._] Now's the time; kiss soft, Girl, and fire him.

_Esop._ [_Gazing at her._] How partial's Nature 'twixt her Form and mine!

_Lear._ [_Aside._] Look, look, look, how he gazes at her!----_Cupid_'s hard at work, I see that already. Slap; there he hits him--if the Wench would but do her Part. But see, see, how the perverse young Baggage stands biting her Thumbs, and won't give him one kind Glance----Ah the sullen Jade! Had it been a handsome strong Dog, of five-and-twenty, she'd a fall'n a coquetting on't, with every Inch about her. But may be 'tis I that spoils Sport; I'll make a Pretence to leave them together. Will your Lordship please to drink any Coffee this Morning?

_Esop._ With all my Heart, Governor.

_Lear._ Your Lordship will give me leave to go and order it myself; for unless I am by, 'tis never perfect.

_Esop._ Provided you leave me this fair Maid in Hostage for your Return, I consent.

_Lear._ My good Lord does my Daughter too much Honour. Ah that the Wench wou'd but do her Part! [_Aside going off._]----Hark, you, Hussy----[_Turning back to ~Euphronia~, aside._]----You can give yourself Airs sometimes, you know you can. Do you remember what work you made with yourself at Church t'other Day? Play your Tricks over again, once more, for my Pleasure, and let me have a good Account of this Statesman, or, d'ye hear?----You shall die a Maid; go chew upon that; go.

[_Exit ~Lear~._

_Esop._ Here I am left, fair Damsel, too much expos'd to your Charms, not to fall your Victim.

_Euph._ Your Fall will then be due to your own Weakness, Sir; for, Heaven's my Witness, I neither endeavour nor wish to wound you.

_Esop._ I understand you, Lady; your Heart's already dispos'd of; 'tis seldom otherways, at your Age.

_Euph._ My Heart dispos'd of!

_Dor._ Nay, never mince the Matter, Madam. The Gentleman looks like a civil Gentleman, e'en confess the Truth to him: He has a good Interest with your Father, and no Doubt will employ it to break the Heathenish Match he proposes to you. [_To ~Esop~._] Yes, Sir, my young Lady has been in love these two Years, and that with as pretty a Fellow as ever entered a Virgin's Heart; tall, strait, young, vigorous, good Clothes, long Perriwig, clean Linen; in brief, he has every thing that's necessary to set a young Lady a-longing, and to stay it when he has done: but her Father, whose Ambition makes him turn Fool in his old Age, comes with a back Stroke upon us, and spoils all our Sport. Wou'd you believe it, Sir? He has propos'd to her to-day the most confounded ugly Fellow! Look, if the very Thoughts of him don't set the poor Thing a-crying! And you, Sir, have so much Power with the old Gentleman, that one Word from you would set us all right again. If he will have her a Wife, in the Name of _Venus_, let him provide her a handsome Husband, and not throw her into the Paws of a Thing, that Nature, in a merry Humour, has made half Man, half Monkey.

_Esop._ Pray, what's this Monster's Name, Lady?

_Euph._ No matter for his Name, Sir; my Father will know what you mean, at first Word.

_Esop._ But you shou'd not always chuse by the Outside alone: believe me, fair Damsel, a fine Perriwig keeps many a Fool's Head from the Weather: Have a Care of your young Gallant.

_Dor._ There's no Danger, I have examin'd him; his Inside's as good as his out! I say, he has Wit, and I think I know.

_Euph._ Nay, she says true; he's even a Miracle of Wit and Beauty: Did you but see him, you'd be yourself my Rival.

_Esop._ Then you are resolv'd against the Monster?

_Dor._ Fy, Sir, fy; I wonder you'll put her in Mind of that foul, frightful Thing: We shall have her dream of nothing all Night but Bats and Owls, and Toads and Hedge-hogs; and then we shall have such a squeaking and squalling with her, the whole House will be in an Uproar: Therefore, pray, Sir, name him no more, but use your Interest with her Father, that she may never hear of him again.

_Esop._ But if I shou'd be so generous to save you from the old Gallant, what shall I say for your young one?

_Euph._ O, Sir, you may venture to enlarge upon his Perfections; you need not fear saying too much in his Praise.

_Dor._ And pray, Sir, be as copious upon the Defects of t'other; you need not fear out-running the Text there, neither, say the worst you can.

_Euph._ You may say, the first is the most graceful Man that _Asia_ ever brought forth.

_Dor._ And you may say the latter is the most deform'd Monster that Copulation ever produc'd.

_Euph._ Tell him that _Oronces_ (for that is his dear Name) has all the Virtues that compose a perfect Hero.

_Dor._ And tell him, that _Pigmy_ has all the Vices that go to equip an Attorney.

_Euph._ That to one I cou'd be true to the last Moment of my Life.

_Dor._ That for t'other, she'd cuckold him the very Day of her Marriage. This, Sir, in few Words, is the Theme you are desir'd to preach upon.

_Esop._ I never yet had one that furnish'd me with more Matter.

_Enter Servant._

_Ser._ My Lord, there's a Lady below desires to speak with your Honour.

_Esop._ What Lady?

_Ser._ 'Tis my Lady--my Lady--[_To ~Doris~._] The Lady there, the wise-Lady, the great Scholar, that Nobody can understand.

_Dor._ O ho, is it she? Pray let's withdraw, and oblige her, Madam; she's ready to swoon at the insipid Sight of one of her own Sex.

_Euph._ You'll excuse us, Sir; we leave you to wiser Company.

[_Exeunt ~Euph~. and ~Dor~._

_Enter ~Hortensia~._

_Hort._ The Deess, who from _Atropos_'s Breast preserves the Names of Heroes and their Actions, proclaims your Fame throughout this mighty Orb, and----

_Esop._ [_Aside._] Shield me, my Stars! What have you sent me here? For Pity's Sake, good Lady, be more humane: My Capacity is too heavy, to mount to your Style: If you wou'd have me know what you mean, please to come down to my Understanding.

_Hort._ I've something in my Nature soars too high
For vulgar Flight, I own;
But _Esop_'s Sphere must needs be within Call;
_Esop_ and I may sure converse together:
I know he's modest, but I likewise know
His Intellects are categorical.

_Esop._ Now, by my Faith, Lady, I don't know what _Intellect_ is; and methinks, _categorical_ sounds as if you call'd me Names. Pray, speak that you may be understood: Language was design'd for it; indeed it was.

_Hort._ Of vulgar Things in vulgar Phrase we talk;
But when of _Esop_ we must speak,
The Theme's too lofty for an humble Style:
_Esop_ is sure no common Character.

_Esop._ No, truly; I am something particular. Yet if I am not mistaken, what I have extraordinary about me, may be describ'd in very homely Language. Here was a young Gentlewoman but just now pencil'd me out to a Hair, I thought; and yet, I vow to God, the learned'st Word I heard her make use of, was Monster.

_Hort._ That was a Woman, Sir, a very Woman;
Her Cogitations all were on the outward Man:
But I strike deeper; 'tis the Mind I view.
The Soul's the worthy Object of my Care;
The Soul, that Sample of Divinity, that glorious
Ray of heavenly Light. The Soul, that awful
Throne of Thought, that sacred Seat of Contemplation.
The Soul, that noble Source of Wisdom,
That Fountain of Comfort,
That Spring of Joy, that happy Token of eternal
Life. The Soul, that----

_Esop._ Pray, Lady, are you married?

_Hort._ Why that Question, Sir?

_Esop._ Only that I might wait upon your Husband, to wish him Joy.

_Hort._ When People of my Composition would marry, they first find something of their own Species to join with; I never could resolve to take a Thing of common Fabric to my Bed, lest, when his brutish Inclinations prompt him, he shou'd make me Mother to a Form like his own.

_Esop._ Methinks, a Lady so extremely nice should be much at a Loss who to converse with.

_Hort._ I keep my Chamber, and converse with myself; 'tis better being alone, than to mis-ally one's Conversation: Men are scandalous, and Women are insipid: Discourse without Figure makes me sick at my Soul: O the Charms of a Metaphor! What Harmony there is in the Words of Erudition! The Musick of them is inimaginable.

_Esop._ Will you hear a Fable, Lady?

_Hort._ Willingly, Sir; the Apologue pleases me, when the Application of it is just.

_Esop._ It is, I'll answer for it.

_Once on a Time a Nightingale,
To Changes prone,
Unconstant, fickle, whimsical,
(A Female one)
Who sung like others of her kind,
Hearing a well-taught Linnet's Airs,
Had other Matters in her Mind.
To imitate him she prepares;
Her Fancy strait was on the Wing:
I fly, quoth she,
As well as he;
I don't know why
I should not try
As well as he to sing.
From that Day forth she chang'd her Note,
She spoil'd her Voice, she strain'd her Throat:
She did, as learned Women do,
Till every Thing
That heard her sing
Wou'd run away from her----as I from you._

[_~Exit~ Esop ~running~._

_~Hortensia~ sola._

How grossly does this poor World suffer itself to be impos'd upon!----_Esop_, a Man of Sense----Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Alas, poor Wretch! I shou'd not have known him but by his Deformity; his Soul's as nauseous to my Understanding, as his odious Body to my Sense of Feeling. Well,

_'Mongst all the Wits that are allow'd to shine,
Methinks there's nothing yet approaches mine:
Sure I was sent the homely Age t'adorn; }
What Star, I know not, rul'd when I was born, }
But every Thing besides myself's my Scorn._ }

[Exit.

+ACT+ II.

_Enter ~Euphronia~ and ~Doris~._

_Dor._ What, in the Name of _Jove_, 's the matter with you? Speak, for Heaven's sake!

_Euph._ Oh! what shall I do? _Doris_, I'm undone.

_Dor._ What, ravish'd?

_Euph._ No, ten times worse! Ten times worse! Unlace me, or I shall swoon.

_Dor._ Unlace you? Why, you are not thereabouts, I hope?

_Euph._ No no, worse still; worse than all that.

_Dor._ Nay, then 'tis bad, indeed.

[_~Doris~ unlaces her._

There: How d'ye do now?

_Euph._ So; 'tis going over.

_Dor._ Courage, pluck up your Spirits: Well, now what's the matter?

_Euph._ The matter! Thou shalt hear. Know that--that Cheat--_Esop_----

_Dor._ Like enough; speak: What has he done! That ugly ill-boding Cyclops--

_Euph._ Why, instead of keeping his Promise, and speaking for _Oronces_, he has not said one Word, but what has been for himself. And by my Father's Order, before to-morrow Noon he's to marry me.

_Dor._ He marry you!

_Euph._ Am I in the wrong to be in this Despair? Tell me, _Doris_, if I am to blame.

_Dor._ To blame? No, by my troth. That ugly, old, treacherous piece of Vermin--that melancholy Mixture of Impotence and Desire--does his Mouth stand to a young Partridge? Ah the old Goat! And your Father! He downright doats at last, then.

_Euph._ Ah, _Doris_, what a Husband does he give me! And what a Lover does he rob me of! Thou know'st 'em both; think of _Oronces_, and think of _Esop_.

_Dor._ [_Spitting._] A foul Monster! And yet, now I think on't, I'm almost as angry at t'other too: Methinks he makes but a slow Voyage on't, for a Man in Love: 'Tis now above two Months since he went to _Lesbos_, to pack up the old Bones of his dead Father; sure he might have made a little more Haste.

_Enter ~Oronces~._

_Euph._ Oh! my Heart, what do I see?

_Dor._ Talk of the Devil, and he's at your Elbow.

_Oron._ My dear Soul!

[_~Euph.~ runs and leaps about his Neck._

_Euph._ Why wou'd you stay so long from me?

_Oron._ 'Twas not my Fault, indeed; the Winds----

_Dor._ The Winds! Will the Winds blow you your Mistress again? We have had Winds too, and Waves into the Bargain; Storms and Tempests, Sea-Monsters, and the Devil and all. She struggled as long as she cou'd, but a Woman can do no more than she can do; when her Breath was gone, down she sunk.

_Oron._ What's the meaning of all this?

_Dor._ There's meaning and mumping too: your Mistress is married: that's all.

_Oron._ Death and Furies----

_Euph._ [_Clinging about him._] Don't you frighten him too much, neither, _Doris_. No, my Dear, I'm not yet executed, tho' I'm condemn'd.

_Oron._ Condemn'd! To what? Speak! Quick!

_Dor._ To be married.

_Oron._ Married? When? How? Where? To what? To whom?

_Dor. Esop, Esop, Esop, Esop, Esop._

_Oron._ Fiends and Spectres! What! That piece of Deformity! That Monster! That Crump!

_Dor._ The same, Sir, the same. I find he knows him. You might have come home sooner.

_Oron._ Dear _Euphronia_, ease me from my Pain. Swear that you neither have nor will consent. I know this comes from your ambitious Father; But you're too generous, too true to leave me: Millions of Kingdoms ne'er wou'd shake my Faith, And I believe your Constancy as firm.

_Euph._ You do me Justice, you shall find you do: For Racks and Tortures, Crowns and Scepters join'd, shall neither fright me from my Truth, nor tempt me to be false. On this you may depend.

_Dor._ Wou'd to the Lord you wou'd find some other Place to make your fine Speeches in! Don't you know that your dear Friend _Esop_'s coming to receive his Visits here? In this great downy Chair, your pretty little Husband Elect is to sit and hear all the Complaints of the Town: One of Wisdom's chief Recompences being to be constantly troubled with the Business of Fools. Pray, Madam, will you take the Gentleman by the Hand, and lead him into your Chamber; and when you are there, don't lie whining, and crying, and sighing, and wishing----[_Aside._] If he had not been more modest than wise, he might have set such a Mark upon the Goods before now, that ne'er a Merchant of 'em all wou'd have bought 'em out of his Hands. But young Fellows are always in the wrong: Either so impudent they are nauseous, or so modest they are useless. Go; pray get you gone together.

_Euph._ But if my Father catch us, we are ruin'd.

_Dor._ By my Conscience, this Love will make us all turn Fools. Before your Father can open the Door, can't he slip down the Back-stairs? I'm sure he may, if you don't hold him; but that's the old Trade. Ah--Well, get you gone, however----Hark----I hear the old Baboon cough; away! [_Ex. ~Oron.~ and ~Euph.~ running._] Here he comes, with his ugly Beak before him. Ah--a luscious Bedfellow, by my troth!

_Enter ~Learchus~ and ~Esop~._

_Lear._ Well, _Doris_; what News from my Daughter? Is she prudent?

_Dor._ Yes, very prudent.

_Lear._ What says she? What does she do?

_Dor._ Do? What shou'd she do? Tears her Cornet; bites her Thumbs; throws her Fan in the Fire; thinks 'tis dark Night at Noon-day; dreams of Monsters and Hobgoblins; raves in her Sleep of forc'd Marriage and Cuckoldom; cries, _Avaunt_ Deformity; then wakens on a sudden, with fifty Arguments at her Fingers-ends to prove the Lawfulness of Rebellion in a Child, when a Parent turns Tyrant.

_Lear._ Very fine! But all this shan't serve her turn. I have said the Word, and will be obey'd----My Lord does her Honour.

_Dor._ [_Aside._] Yes, and that's all he can do to her. [_To ~Lear~._] But I can't blame the Gentleman, after all; he loves my Mistress, because she's handsome; and she hates him, because he's ugly. I never saw two People more in the right in my Life. [_To ~Esop~._] You'll pardon me, Sir, I'm somewhat free.

_Esop._ Why, a Ceremony wou'd but take up time. But, Governor, methinks I have an admirable Advocate about your Daughter.

_Lear._ Out of the Room, Impudence: be gone, I say.

_Dor._ So I will: But you'll be as much in the wrong when I'm gone, as when I'm here. And your Conscience, I hope, will talk as pertly to you as I can do.

_Esop._ If she treats me thus before my face, I may conclude I'm finely handled behind my Back.

_Dor._ I say the Truth here; and I can say no worse any where.

[_Exit ~Doris~._

_Lear._ I hope your Lordship won't be concern'd at what this prattling Wench bleats out: my Daughter will be govern'd. She's bred up to Obedience. There may be some small Difficulty in weaning her from her young Lover: But 'twon't be the first time she has been wean'd from a Breast, my Lord.

_Esop._ Does she love him fondly, Sir?

_Lear._ Foolishly, my Lord.

_Esop._ And he her?

_Lear._ The same.

_Esop._ Is he young?

_Lear._ Yes, and vigorous.

_Esop._ Rich?

_Lear._ So, so.

_Esop._ Well-born?

_Lear._ He has good Blood in his Veins.

_Esop._ Has he Wit?

_Lear._ He had, before he was in Love.

_Esop._ And handsome with all this?

_Lear._ Or else we shou'd not have half so much trouble with him.

_Esop._ Why do you, then, make her quit him for me? All the World knows I am neither young, noble, nor rich: And as for my Beauty----Look you, Governor, I'm honest. But when Children cry, they tell 'em _Esop_'s a-coming. Pray, Sir, what is it makes you so earnest to force your Daughter?

_Lear._ Am I, then, to count for nothing the favour you are in at Court? Father-in-law to the great _Esop_! What may not I aspire to? My foolish Daughter, perhaps, mayn't be so well pleas'd with it, but we wise Parents usually weigh our Children's Happiness in the Scale of our own Inclinations.

_Esop._ Well, Governor, let it be your Care, then, to make her consent.

_Lear._ This Moment, my Lord, I reduce her either to Obedience, or to Dust and Ashes.

[_Exit ~Lear~._

_Esop._ Adieu. Now let in the People who come for Audience.

[_~Esop~ sits in his Chair, reading of Papers._

_Enter two ordinary Tradesmen._

_1 Tra._ There he is, Neighbour: Do but look at him.

_2 Tra._ Aye; one may know him: He's well mark'd. But do'st hear me? What Title must we give him? for if we fail in that point, d'ye see me, we shall never get our Business done. Courtiers love Titles almost as well as they do Money, and that's a bold Word now.

_1 Tra._ Why, I think we had best call him, his Grandeur.

_2 Tra._ That will do; thou hast hit on't. Hold still, let me speak. May it please your Grandeur----

_Esop._ There I interrupt you, Friend; I have a weak Body that will ne'er be able to bear that Title.

_2 Tra._ D'ye hear that, Neighbour? What shall we call him now?

_1 Tra._ Why, call him, call him, his Excellency; try what that will do.

_2 Tra._ May it please your Excellency----

_Esop._ Excellency's a long Word, it takes up too much time in Business: Tell me what you'd have in few Words.

_2 Tra._

Neighbour, this Man will never give
Ten thousand Pounds to be made a Lord.
But what shall I say to him now?
He puts me quite out of my play.

_1 Tra._ Why e'en talk to him as we do to one another.

_2 Tra._ Shall I? Why, so I will, then. Hem! Neighbour, we want a new Governor, Neighbour.

_Esop._ A new Governor, Friend?

_2 Tra._ Aye, Friend.

_Esop._ Why, what's the matter with your old one?

_2 Tra._

What's the matter!
Why, he grows rich; that's the matter;
And he that's rich can't be innocent; that's all.

_Esop._ Does he use any of you harshly? Or punish you without a Fault?

_2 Tra._ No, but he grows as rich as a Miser; his Purse is so cramm'd, 'tis ready to burst again.

_Esop._ When 'tis full, 'twill hold no more; a new Governor will have an empty one.

_2 Tra._ 'Fore Gad, Neighbour, the little Gentleman's in the right on't.

_1 Tra._

Why, truly, I don't know but he may:
For now it comes in my Head,
It cost me more Money to fat my Hog,
Than to keep him fat when he was so.
Pr'ythee tell him we'll keep our old Governor.

_2 Tra._ I'll do't. Why, look you, Sir, d'ye see me: Having seriously consider'd of the matter, my Neighbour _Hobson_ and I here, we are content to jog on a little longer with him we have: but if you'd do us another Courtesy, you might.

_Esop._ What's that, Friend?

_2 Tra._ Why, that's this: Our King Crœsus is a very good Prince, as a Man may say: But----a----but--Taxes are high, an't please you; and----a----poor Men want Money, d'ye see me: 'Tis very hard, as we think, that the Poor shou'd work to maintain the Rich. If there were no Taxes, we shou'd do pretty well.

_1 Tra._ Taxes, indeed, are very burdensome.

_Esop._ I'll tell you a Story, Countrymen.

_Once on a time, the Hands and Feet,
As Mutineers, grew mighty great;
They met, caball'd, and talk'd of Treason,
They swore by ~Jove~ they knew no Reason
The Belly shou'd have all the Meat-- }
It was a damn'd notorious Cheat }
They did the Work, and--Death and Hell, they'd eat. }
The Belly, who ador'd good Chear,
Had like t'have dy'd away for Fear:
Quoth he, Good Folks, you little know }
What 'tis you are about to do; }
If I am starv'd, what will become of you? }
We neither know nor care, cry'd they,
But this we will be bound to say,
We'll see you damn'd
Before we'll work,
And you receive the Pay.
With that the Hands to Pocket went
Full Wrist-band deep,
The Legs and Feet fell fast asleep:
Their Liberty they had redeem'd,
And all, except the Belly, seem'd
Extremely well content.
But mark what follow'd; 'twas not long
Before the right became the wrong;
The Mutineers were grown so weak,
They found 'twas more than time to squeak:
They call for work, but 'twas too late.
The Stomach (like an aged Maid, }
Shrunk up, for want of human Aid) }
The common Debt of Nature paid, }
And with its Destiny entrain'd their Fate._ }

_Esop._ What think you of this Story, Friends, ha? Come, you look like wise Men; I'm sure you understand what's for your good; in giving part of what you have, you secure all the rest: If the King had no Money, there cou'd be no Army; and if there were no Army, your Enemies would be amongst you: One Day's Pillage wou'd be worse than twenty Years' Taxes. What say ye? Is't not so?

_2 Tra._ By my troth, I think he's in the right on't, again. Who'd think that little Hump-back of his Shou'd have so much Brains in't, Neighbour?

_Esop._ Well, honest Men, is there any thing else that I can serve you in?

_1 Tra._ D'ye hear that, _Humphry_?----Why, that was civil now. But 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?