_Euph._ [_Going off weeping, and leaning upon ~Doris~._] Break, Heart! for if than hold'st, I'm miserable. _Dor._ [_To ~Esop~._] Now may the Extravagance of a lewd Wife, with the Insolence of a virtuous one, join hand in hand to bring thy grey Hairs to the Grave. [_Exeunt ~Euphronia~ and ~Doris~._ _Esop._ My old Friend wishes me well to the last, I see. _Enter ~Learchus~ hastily, follow'd by ~Oronces~._ _Oron._ Pray hear me, Sir. _Lear._ 'Tis in vain; I'm resolv'd, I tell you. Most noble _Esop_, since you are pleas'd to accept of my poor Offspring for your Consort, be so charitable to my old Age, to deliver me from the Impertinence of Youth, by making her your Wife this Instant; for there's a Plot against my Life; they have resolv'd to teaze me to Death to-night, that they may break the Match to-morrow Morning. Marry her this instant, I intreat you. _Esop._ This instant, say you! _Lear._ This instant; this very instant. _Esop._ 'Tis enough; get all things ready; I'll be with you in a Moment. [_Exit ~Esop~._ _Lear._ Now, what say you, Mr. _Flame-fire_? I shall have the Whip-hand of you presently. _Oron._ Defer it till to-morrow, Sir. _Lear._ That you may run away with her to-night; ha?----Sir, your most obedient humble Servant. Hey, who waits there? Call my Daughter to me: Quick. I'll give her her Dispatches presently. _Enter ~Euphronia~._ _Euph._ D'ye call, Sir. _Lear._ Yes, I do, Minx. Go shift yourself, and put on your best Clothes. You are to be marry'd. _Euph._ Marry'd, Sir! _Lear._ Yes, marry'd, Madam; and that this Instant too. _Euph._ Dear Sir---- _Lear._ Not a Word: Obedience and a clean Smock; dispatch. [_Exit ~Euphronia~ weeping._ _~Learchus~ going off, turns to ~Oronces~._] Sir, your most obedient humble Servant. _Oron._ Yet hear what I've to say. _Lear._ And what have you to say, Sir? _Oron._ Alas! I know not what I have to say! _Lear._ Very like so. That's a sure Sign he's in love now. _Oron._ Have you no Bowels? _Lear._ Ha, ha! Bowels in a Parent! Here's a young Fellow for you. Hark thee, Stripling; being in a very merry Humour, I don't care if I discover some paternal Secrets to thee. Know then, that how humoursome, how whimsical soever we may appear, there's one fixt Principle that runs thro' almost the whole Race of us; and that's to please ourselves. Why do'st think I got my Daughter? Why, there was something in't that pleased me. Why dost think I marry my Daughter? Why to please myself still. And what is't that pleases me? Why, my Interest; what do'st think it shou'd be? If _Esop_'s my Son-in-Law, he'll make me a Lord: If thou art my Son-in-Law----thou'lt make me a Grandfather. Now I having more Mind to be a Lord than a Grandfather, give my Daughter to him, and not to thee.