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 Glass? 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 damnably 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 Glasses.
Sir Tim. Why then here’s a conceal’d Health that shall be nameless, to his Grace the King of Poland.