Wild. The same, Sir; I have been bred abroad, and thought all Persons of Quality had spoke French.
Sir Tim. Not City Persons of Quality, my Lord.
Wild. I’m glad on’t, Sir; for ‘tis a Nation I hate, as indeed I do all Monarchies.
Sir Tim. Hum! hate Monarchy! Your Lordship is most welcome.
[Bows.
Wild. Unless Elective Monarchies, which so resemble a Commonwealth.
Sir Tim. Right, my Lord; where every Man may hope to take his turn— Your Lordship is most singularly welcome. [Bows low.
Wild. And though I am a Stranger to your Person, I am not to your Fame, amongst the sober Party of the Amsterdamians, all the French Hugonots throughout Geneva; even to Hungary and Poland, Fame’s Trumpet sounds your Praise, making the Pope to fear, the rest admire you.
Sir Anth. I’m much oblig’d to the renowned Mobile.
Wild. So you will say, when you shall hear my Embassy. The Polanders by me salute you, Sir, and have in this next new Election prick’d ye down for their succeeding King.
Sir Tim. How, my Lord, prick’d me down for a King! Why, this is wonderful! Prick’d me, unworthy me down for a King! How cou’d I merit this amazing Glory!