Gna. The Monarch has you in his Eye then?
Thra. Right again.
Gna. And wears you next his heart?
Thra. Very true: And trusts all his Army and Secrets to my Discretion.
Gna. Prodigious!
Thra. Then if he happen’d to be tir’d with Company, or fateagu’d with Business, and was desirous of Ease,—— as tho’,—— you know what I mean.
Gna. Yes, Sir:——— As tho, when he had a mind to clear his Stomach, as a Man may say, of all Concerns,———
Thra. Right: Then was I his only Companion hand to fist.
Gna. Ay marry Sir! This is a Monarch indeed.
Thra. Oh! he’s a Man of a thousand.