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?