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Show 264 £50 P. to give him his due, he's ready enough at fome things: Sir, I have had twenty fine Children by him ; fifteen of 'em are alive, and alive like to be; five tall Daughters are wedded and bedded, and ten proper Sons ferve their King and their Country. Efop. A goodly Company, upon m y word ! Mrs. Fruit. Would all Men take as much pains for the peopling the Kingdom, we might tuck up our A-prons, and cry a Fig for our Enemies; but we have fuch a parcel of Drones amongft us Hold up vour Head, Husband • He's a little out of Countenance Sir, becaufe I chid him ; but the Man's a very good Man at the bottom. But to come to m y Bufinefs, Sir- I hope his Majefty will think it reafonable to allow me' fomething for the Service I have done him ; 'tis pity but Labour fhou'd be encourag'd, efpecially when what one has done, one has don't with a Good-will. Efop. What Profeilion are you of. a0od People ? L S Mrs. Fruit. M y Husband's an Innkeeper, Sir ; he bears the N a m e , but I govern the Houfe. # Efop. And what Pofts are your Sons in, in the Service ? Mrs. Fruit. Sir, there are four Monks. Mr. Fruit. Three Attorneys. Mrs. Fruit. T w o Scriveners. Mr. Fruit. And an Excife-Man. Efop. The deux o'the Service ; why, I thought they had been all in the Army. Mrs. Fruit. Not one, Sir. Efop. N o , fo it feems, by m y Troth: Ten Sons that ferve their Country, quotha! Monks, Attorneys, Scriveners and Excife-men, ferve their Country with a vengeance ; you deferve to be rewarded, truly ; you deferve to be hang'd, you wicked People you. Get you gone out of m y fight: I never was fo angry in m y Life. [Exit Efop. Mr. Fruit, to his Wife. ] So ; who's in the right now, you or I ? I told you what w7ou'd come on't; you muft be ESOP. 265 But n o w we have got a great Kennel of Whelp, and W f J? "^ ^ °f em> f0r ° ^ I fee Fo'your Mrs. Fruit. What, you are a grudging of your Pains now, you lazy, fluggifc, flegmatkk Dro°ne. U b a mind to die of a Lethargy, have you ? but I'll raife your Spirits for you, I will fo. Get you gone home, go ; go home, you idle Sot, you, I'll raife your Spirits 101 y°U # [Exit, puling him before her. Re-enter Efop. Efop folus.] Monks, Attorneys, Scriveners, and Excife-men! • Enter Oronces. Or. O here he is. Sir, I have been fearching for you, to fay two words to you. Efop. And now you have found me, Sir, what are they ? Or. They are, Sir that m y Name's Oronces', you comprehend me. Efop. I comprehend your Name. Or. And not m y Bufinefs ? Efop. Not I, by m y Troth. Or. Then I fhall endeavour to teach it you, Monfieur Efip. Efop. And I to learn it, Monfieur Oronces. Or. K n o w , S i r - that I admire Euphronia. Efop. K n o w , Sir that you are in the right on't. Or. But I pretend, Sir, that no body elfe fhall admire her. Efop. Then I pretend, Sir, fhe won't admire you. Or. W h y fo, Sir ? Efop. Becaufe, Sir Or. What, Sir ? Efop. She's a W o m a n , Sir. Or. What then, Sir? N Efih |