_Oron._ Then shall her Happiness weigh nothing with you? _Lear._ Not this.--If it did, I'd give her to thee, and not to him. _Oron._ Do you think forc'd Marriage the Way to keep Women virtuous? _Lear._ No; nor I don't Care whether Women are virtuous or not. _Oron._ You know your Daughter loves me? _Lear._ I do so. _Oron._ What, if the Children that _Esop_ may happen to father, shou'd chance to be begot by me? _Lear._ Why, then _Esop_ wou'd be the Cuckold, not I. _Oron._ Is that all your Care? _Lear._ Yes: I speak as a Father. _Oron._ What think you of your Child's Concern in t'other World? _Lear._ Why, I think it my Child's Concern, not mine. I speak as a Father. _Oron._ Do you remember you once gave me your Consent to wed your Daughter? _Lear._ I did. _Oron._ Why did you so? _Lear._ Because you were the best Match that offer'd at that Time. I did like a Father. _Oron._ Why then, Sir, I'll do like a Lover. I'll make you keep your Word, or cut your Throat. _Lear._ Who waits there, ha? _Enter Servants._ _Lear._ Seize me that Bully there. Carry him to Prison, and keep him safe. [_They seize him._ _Oron._ Why, you won't use me thus? _Lear._ Yes, but I will tho': Away with him. Sir, your most humble Servant: I wish you a good Night's Rest; and as far as a merry Dream goes, my Daughter's at your Service. _Oron._ Death and Furies! [_Exeunt Serv. with ~Oron~._ Lear. [singing.] _Dol, de tol dol, dol, de tol dol, Lilly Burleighre's lodg'd in a Bough._ _Enter a Troop of Musicians, Dancers, ~&c.~_ _Lear._ How now! What have we got here? _Mus._ Sir, we are a Troop of trifling Fellows, Fiddlers and Dancers, come to celebrate the Wedding of your fair Daughter, if your Honour pleases to give us Leave. _Lear._ With all my Heart: But who do you take me for, Sir; ha? _1 Mus._ I take your Honour for our noble Governor of _Sysicus_. _Lear._ Governor of _Sysicus_! Governor of a Cheese-Cake! I'm Father-in-Law to the great _Esop_, Sirrah. [_All bow to him._] [_Aside._]----I shall be a great Man. Come, tune your Fiddles; shake your Legs; get all things ready. My Son-in-Law will be here presently----I shall be a great Man! [_Exit._ _1 Mus._ A great Marriage, Brother! What do'st think will be the End on't? _2 Mus._ Why, I believe we shall see three Turns upon't. This old Fellow here will turn Fool; his Daughter will turn Strumpet; and his Son-in-Law will turn 'em both out of Doors. But that's nothing to thee nor me, so long as we are paid for our Fiddling. So tune away, Gentlemen. _1 Mus._ D'ye hear, Trumpets? When the Bride appears, salute her with a melancholy Waft. 'Twill suit her Humour; for I guess she mayn't be over-well pleas'd. _Enter ~Learchus~ with several Friends, and a Priest._