Volume Ii Part 64 (2/2)

Sir _Tim_. How, my Lord, p.r.i.c.k'd me down for a King! Why, this is wonderful! p.r.i.c.k'd me, unworthy me down for a King! How cou'd I merit this amazing Glory!

_Wild_. They know, he that can be so great a Patriot to his Native Country, where but a private Person, what must he be when Power is on his side?

Sir _Tim_. Ay, my Lord, my Country, my bleeding Country! there's the stop to all my rising Greatness. Shall I be so ungrateful to disappoint this big expecting Nation? defeat the sober Party, and my Neighbours, for any Polish Crown? But yet, my Lord, I will consider on't: Mean time my House is yours.

_Wild_. I've brought you, Sir, the Measure of the Crown: Ha, it fits you to a Hair.

[_Pulls out a Ribband, measures his Head_.

You were by Heav'n and Nature fram'd that Monarch.

Sir _Anth_. Hah, at it again!

[_Sir_ Charles _making sober Love_.

Come, we grow dull, _Charles_; where stands the Gla.s.s?

What, balk my Lady _Galliard's_ Health!

[_They go to drink_.

_Wild_. Hah, _Galliard_--and so sweet on Meriwill! [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. If it be your business, Sir, to drink, I'll withdraw.

Sir _Char_. Gad, and I'll withdraw with you, Widow. Hark ye, Lady _Galliard_, I am d.a.m.nably afraid you cannot bear Liquor well, you are so forward to leave good Company and a Bottle.

Sir _Tim_. Well, Gentlemen, since I have done what I never do, to oblige you, I hope you will not refuse a Health of my Denomination.

Sir _Anth_. We scorn to be so uncivil.

[_All take the Gla.s.ses_.

Sir _Tim_. Why then here's a conceal'd Health that shall be nameless, to his Grace the King of Poland.

Sir _Char_. King of Poland! Lord, Lord, how your Thoughts ramble!

Sir _Tim_. Not so far as you imagine; I know what I say, Sir.

Sir _Char_. Away with it. [_Drink all_.

_Wild_. I see, Sir, you still keep up that English Hospitality that so renowned our Ancestors in History.

[_Looking on L_. Gal.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, my Lord, my n.o.ble Guests are my Wife and Children.

_Wild_. Are you not married, then? Death, she smiles on him.

[_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. I had a Wife, but rest her Soul, she's dead; and I have no Plague left now but an ungracious Nephew, perverted with ill Customs, Tantivy Opinions, and Court-Notions.

_Wild_. Cannot your pious Examples convert him? By Heaven, she's fond of him! [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, I have try'd all ways, fair and foul; nay, had settled t'other Day my whole Estate upon him, and just as I had sign'd the Writings, out comes me a d.a.m.n'd Libel, call'd, A Warning to all good Christians against the City-Magistrates; and I doubt he had a Hand in Absalom and Achitophel, a Rogue. But some of our sober Party have claw'd him home, i' faith, and given him Rhyme for his Reason.

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