Volume Iii Part 132 (1/2)

[Aside to _him_.

_Scar_. Let me alone.

_Doct_. I'll warrant you some Rogue that has some Plot on my Niece and Daughter.

_Scar_. No, no, Sir, he comes to impose the grossest Lye upon you, that ever was heard of.

_Enter_ Pedro _with others, with a Blanket. They put_ Harlequin _into it, and toss him_.

_Har_. Hold, hold, I'll confess all, rather than indure it.

_Doct_. Hold, what will you confess, Sir.

[_He comes out, makes sick Faces_.

_Scar_.--That he's the greatest Impostor in Nature. Wou'd you think it, Sir? he pretends to be no less than an Amba.s.sador from the Emperor of the Moon, Sir.

_Doct_. Ha, Amba.s.sador from the Emperor of the Moon!

[_Pulls off his Hat_.

_Scar_. Ay, Sir, thereupon I laugh'd, thereupon he grew angry--I laugh'd at his Resentment, and thereupon we drew, and this was the high Quarrel, Sir.

_Doct_. Hum--Amba.s.sador from the Moon. [_Pauses_.

_Scar_. I have brought you off, manage him as well as you can.

_Har_. Brought me off, yes, out of the Frying-pan into the Fire.

Why, how the Devil shall I act an Amba.s.sador? [_Aside_.

_Doct_. It must be so, for how shou'd either of these know I expected that Honour?

[_He addresses him with profound Civility to_ Har.

Sir, if the Figure you make, approaching so near ours of this World, have made us commit any undecent Indignity to your high Character, you ought to pardon the Frailty of our mortal Education and Ignorance, having never before been bless'd with the Descension of any from your World.

_Har_. What the Devil shall I say now? [_Aside_.

--I confess I am, as you may see by my Garb, Sir, a little _Incognito_, because the publick Message I bring is very private--which is, that the mighty _Iredonozor_, Emperor of the Moon, with his most worthy Brother, the Prince of _Thunderland_, intend to sup with you to Night.--Therefore be sure you get good Wine.--Though by the way let me tell you, 'tis for the sake of your fair Daughter.

_Scar_. I'll leave the Rogue to his own Management. I presume, by your whispering, Sir, you wou'd be private, and humbly begging pardon, take my leave.

[_Exit_.

_Har_. You have it, Friend. Does your Niece and Daughter drink, Sir?

_Doct_. Drink, Sir?

_Har_. Ay, Sir, drink hard?

_Doct_. Do the Women of your World drink hard, Sir?

_Har_. According to their Quality, Sir, more or less; the greater the Quality, the more profuse the Quant.i.ty.