_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.