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.