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 Ambassador from the Emperor of the Moon, Sir.
Doct. Ha, Ambassador 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—Ambassador 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 Ambassador? [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.