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 Quantity.
Doct. Why, that’s just as ‘tis here; but your Men of Quality, your Statesmen, Sir, I presume they are sober, learned, and wise.
Har. Faith, no, Sir; but they are, for the most part, what’s as good, very proud and promising, Sir, most liberal of their Word to every fauning Suiter, to purchase the state of long Attendance, and cringing as they pass; but the Devil of a Performance, without you get the Knack of bribing in the right Place and Time; but yet they all defy it, Sir.
Doct. Just, just, as ‘tis here.—But pray, Sir, how do these Great men live with their Wives?