_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.