Page. Sir.
Lord Fop. Sir! Pray, Sir, do me the Favour to teach your Tongue the Title the King has thought fit to honour me with.
Page. I ask your Lordship's Pardon, my Lord.
Lord Fop. O, you can pronounce the Word then——I thought it would have choak'd you——D'ye hear?
Page. My Lord.
Lord Fop. Call La Varole, I wou'd dress—
[Exit Page.
Solus.
Well, 'tis an unspeakable Pleasure to be a Man of Quality——Strike me dumb——My Lord——Your Lordship——My Lord Foppington—Ah! c'est quelque chose de beau, que le Diable m'emporte——
Why the Ladies were ready to puke at me, whilst I had nothing but Sir Novelty to recommend me to 'em——Sure whilst I was but a Knight, I was a very nauseous Fellow——Well, 'tis Ten Thousand Pawnd well given——stap my Vitals——