_Lady Answ._ Pray, how old do you take her to be?
_Col._ Why, about Five or Six and Twenty.
_Miss._ I swear, she’s no Chicken; she’s on the wrong Side of Thirty, if
she be a Day.
_Lady Answ._ Depend upon it, she’ll never see Five and Thirty, and a Bit
to spare.
_Col._ Why, they say, she’s one of the chief Toasts in Town.
_Lady Smart._ Ay, when all the rest are out of it.
_Miss._ Well; I wou’dn’t be as sick as she’s proud, for all the World.
_Lady Answ._ She looks, as if Butter wou’dn’t melt in her Mouth; but I
warrant, Cheese won’t choak her. I hear, my Lord What-d’ye-call-him is
courting her.
_Ld. Sparkish._ What Lord d’ye mean, _Tom_?
_Miss._ Why, my Lord, I suppose, Mr. _Neverout_ means the Lord of the
Lord knows what.
_Col._ They say, she dances very fine.
_Lady Answ._ She did; but, I doubt, her Dancing Days are over.
_Col._ I can’t pardon her, for her Rudeness to me.
_Lady Smart._ Well; but you must forget and forgive.
[——Footman _comes in_.——
_Lady Smart._ Did you call _Betty_?
_Footman._ She’s coming, Madam.
_Lady Smart._ Coming! ay, so is _Christmas_.
[——Betty _comes in_.——
_Lady Smart._ Come, get ready my Things. Where has the Wench been these
Three Hours?
_Betty._ Madam, I can’t go faster than my Legs will carry me.
_Lady Smart._ Ay, thou hast a Head, and so has a Pin. But, my Lord,
all the Town has it, that Miss _Caper_ is to be married to Sir _Peter
Giball_; one thing is certain, that she hath promis’d to have him.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Madam, you know Promises are either broken or kept.
_Lady Answ._ I beg your Pardon, my Lord; Promises and Pye-crust are made
to be broken.
_Lady Smart._ Nay, I had it from my Lady _Carry-lye_’s own Mouth. I tell
you my Tale, and my Tale’s Author; if it be a Lye, you had it as cheap as
I.
_Lady Answ._ She and I had some Words last _Sunday_ at Church; but, I
think, I gave her her own.
_Lady Smart._ Her Tongue runs like the Clapper of a Mill; she talks
enough for herself and all the Company.
_Neverout._ And yet she simpers like a Firmity-Kettle.
[——Miss _looking in a Glass_.——
_Miss._ Lord, how my Head is drest To-day!
_Col._ Oh, Madam! a good Face needs no Band.
_Miss._ No; and a bad one deserves none.
_Col._ Pray, Miss, where is your old Acquaintance, Mrs. _Wayward_?
_Miss._ Why, where should she be? You must needs know; she’s in her Skin.
_Col._ I can answer that: What if you were as far out as she’s in?——
_Miss._ Well, I promis’d to go this Evening to _Hyde-Park_ on the Water;
but, I protest, I’m half afraid.
_Neverout._ Never fear, Miss; you have the old Proverb on your Side,
Naught’s ne’er in Danger.
_Col._ Why, Miss, let _Tom Neverout_ wait on you; and then, I warrant,
you’ll be as safe as a Thief in a Mill; for you know, he that’s born to
be hang’d, will never be drowned.
_Neverout._ Thank you, Colonel, for your good Word; but, faith, if ever I
hang, it shall be about a fair Lady’s Neck.
_Lady Smart._ Who’s there? Bid the Children be quiet, and not laugh so
loud.
_Lady Answ._ Oh, Madam! let’ em laugh; they’ll ne’er laugh younger.
_Neverout._ Miss, I’ll tell you a Secret, if you’ll promise never to tell
it again.
_Miss._ No, to be sure; I’ll tell it to nobody but Friends and Strangers.
_Neverout._ Why, then, there’s some Dirt in my Tea-cup.
_Miss._ Come, come; the more there’s in’t, the more there’s on’t.
_Lady Answ._ Poh! you must eat a Peck of Dirt before you die.
_Col._ Ay, ay; it goes all one way.
_Neverout._ Pray, Miss, What’s a Clock?
_Miss._ Why, you must know, ’tis a Thing like a Bell; and you are a Fool
that can’t tell.
_Neverout._ [_to Lady Answ._] Pray, Madam, do you tell me; for I have
let my Watch run down.
_Lady Answ._ Why, ’tis half an Hour past Hanging-time.
_Col._ Well; I am like the Butcher, that was looking for his Knife, and
had it in his Mouth: I have been searching my Pockets for my Snuff-box,
and, egad, here ’tis in my Hand.
_Miss._ If it had been a Bear, it would have bit you, Colonel: Well, I
wish, I had such a Snuff-box.
_Neverout._ You’ll be long enough before you wish your Skin full of
Eyelet-Holes.
_Col._ Wish in one Hand,——
_Miss._ Out upon you: Lord, what can the Man mean?
_Ld. Sparkish._ This Tea’s very hot.
_Lady Answ._ Why, it came from a hot Place, my Lord.
[——Colonel _spills his Tea_.——
_Lady Smart._ That’s as well done as if I had done it myself.
_Col._ Madam, I find, you live by ill Neighbours; when you are forc’d to
praise yourself.
_Lady Smart._ So they pray’d me to tell you.
_Neverout._ Well, I won’t drink a Drop more; if I do, ’twill go down like
chopt Hay.
_Miss._ Pray, don’t say No, till you are ask’d.
_Neverout._ Well, what you please, and the rest again.
[——Miss _stooping for a Pin_.——
_Miss._ I have heard ’em say, that a Pin a Day is a Groat a Year. Well,
as I hope to be married, forgive me for swearing; I vow, ’tis a Needle.
_Col._ Oh! the wonderful Works of Nature: That a black Hen should have a
white Egg!
_Neverout._ What! you have found a Mare’s Nest; and laugh at the Eggs.
_Miss._ Pray, keep your Breath to cool your Porridge.
_Neverout._ Miss, there was a very pleasant Accident last Night in St.
_James_’s Park.
_Miss._ [_to Lady Smart._] What was it your Ladyship was going to say
just now?
_Neverout._ Well, Miss; tell a Mare a Tale——
_Miss._ I find, you love to hear yourself talk.
_Neverout._ Why, if you won’t hear my Tale, kiss my, _&c._
_Miss._ Out upon you, for a filthy Creeter!
_Neverout._ What, Miss! must I tell you a Story, and find you Ears?
_Ld. Sparkish._ [_to Lady Smart._] Pray, Madam, don’t you think Mrs.
_Spendal_ very genteel?
_Lady Smart._ Why, my Lord, I think she was cut out for a Gentlewoman,
but she was spoil’d in the Making: She wears her Cloaths, as if they were
thrown on her with a Pitch-Fork; and, for the Fashion, I believe they
were made in the Reign of Queen _Bess_.
_Neverout._ Well, that’s neither here nor there; for you know, the more
careless, the more modish.
_Col._ Well, I’d hold a Wager, there will be a Match between her and
_Dick Dolt_; and I believe, I can see as far into a Millstone as another
Man.
_Miss._ Colonel, I must beg your Pardon a Thousand Times; but they say,
An old Ape has an old Eye.
_Neverout._ Miss, what do you mean! you’ll spoil the Colonel’s Marriage,
if you call him old.
_Col._ Not so old, nor yet so cold. You know the rest, Miss.
_Miss._ Manners is a fine Thing, truly.
_Col._ Faith, Miss, depend upon it, I’ll give you as good as you bring:
What! if you give a Jest, you must take a Jest.
_Lady Smart._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, you’ll ne’er have done till you break
that Knife; and then the Man won’t take it again.
_Miss._ Why, Madam, Fools will be medling; I wish, he may cut his
Fingers; I hope, you can see your own Blood without fainting.
_Neverout._ Why, Miss, you shine this Morning like a —— Barn-door; you’ll
never hold out at this Rate; pray, save a little Wit for To-morrow.
_Miss._ Well, you have said your Say; if People will be rude, I have
done; my Comfort is, ’twill be all one a thousand Year hence.
_Neverout._ Miss, you have shot your Bolt: I find, you must have the last
Word.—Well, I’ll go to the Opera To-night.—No, I can’t neither, for I
have some Business—and yet I think I must, for I promis’d to squire the
Countess to her Box.
_Miss._ The Countess of _Puddledock_, I suppose.
_Neverout._ Peace, or War, Miss?
_Lady Smart._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, you’ll never be mad, you are of so
many Minds.
[——_As_ Miss _rises, the Chair falls behind her_.——
_Miss._ Well; I shan’t be Lady-Mayoress this Year.
_Neverout._ No, Miss; ’tis worse than that; you won’t be marry’d this
Year.
_Miss._ Lord! you make me laugh, tho’ I a’n’t well.
[——Neverout, _as_ Miss _is standing, pulls her suddenly on his
Lap_.——
_Neverout._ Now, Colonel, come, sit down on my Lap; more Sacks upon the
Mill.
_Miss._ Let me go; ar’n’t you sorry for my Heaviness?
_Neverout._ No, Miss; you are very light; but I don’t say, you are a
light Hussy. Pray, take up the Chair for your Pains.
_Miss._ ’Tis but one body’s Labour, you may do it yourself: I wish, you
would be quiet, you have more Tricks than a Dancing Bear.
[——Neverout _rises to take up the Chair, and_ Miss _sits in
his_.——
_Neverout._ You wou’dn’t be so soon in my Grave, Madam.
_Miss._ Lord! I have torn my Petticoat with your odious Romping; my Rents
are coming in; I’m afraid, I shall fall into the Ragman’s Hands.
_Neverout._ I’ll mend it, Miss.
_Miss._ You mend it! go, teach your Grannam to suck Eggs.
_Neverout._ Why, Miss, you are so cross, I could find in my Heart to hate
you.
_Miss._ With all my Heart; there will be no Love lost between us.
_Neverout._ But, pray, my Lady _Smart_, does not Miss look as if she
could eat me without Salt?
_Miss._ I’ll make you one Day sup Sorrow for this.
_Neverout._ Well, follow your own Way, you’ll live the longer.
_Miss._ See, Madam, how well I have mended it.
_Lady Smart._ ’Tis indifferent, as _Doll_ danc’d.
_Neverout._ ’Twill last as many Nights as Days.
_Miss._ Well, I knew, I should never have your good Word.
_Lady Smart._ My Lord, my Lady _Answerall_ and I was walking in the Park
last Night till near Eleven; ’twas a very fine Night.
_Neverout._ Egad so was I; and I’ll tell you a comical Accident; egad, I
lost my Under-standing.
_Miss._ I’m glad you had any to lose.
_Lady Smart._ Well, but what do you mean?
_Neverout._ Egad, I kick’d my Foot against a Stone, and tore off the Heel
of my Shoe, and was forc’d to limp to a Cobler in the _Pall Mall_, to
have it put on. He, he, he.
[_All laugh._
_Col._ Oh! ’twas a delicate Night to run away with another Man’s Wife.
[——Neverout _sneezes_.——
_Miss._ God bless you, if you ha’n’t taken Snuff.
_Neverout._ Why, what if I have, Miss?
_Miss._ Why, then, the Duce take you.
_Neverout._ Miss, I want that Diamond-Ring of yours.
_Miss._ Why, then, Want’s like to be your Master.
[——Neverout _looking at the Ring_.——
_Neverout._ Ay, marry, this is not only but also; where did you get it?
_Miss._ Why, where ’twas to be had; where the Devil got the Friar.
_Neverout._ Well; if I had such a fine Diamond-Ring, I woudn’t stay a
Day in _England_: But you know, far-fetch’d and dear-bought is fit for
Ladies. I warrant, this cost your Father Twopence half-penny.
[——Miss _sitting between_ Neverout _and the_ Colonel.——
_Miss._ Well; here’s a Rose between Two Nettles.
_Neverout._ No, Madam; with Submission, here’s a Nettle between Two Roses.
[——Colonel _stretching himself_.——
_Lady Smart._ Why, Colonel, you break the King’s Laws; you stretch
without a Halter.
_Lady Answ._ Colonel, some Ladies of your Acquaintance have promis’d to
breakfast with you, and I am to wait on them; what will you give us?
_Col._ Why, faith, Madam, Batchelors Fare; Bread and Cheese, and Kisses.
_Lady Answ._ Poh! what have you Batchelors to do with your Money, but to
treat the Ladies? you have nothing to keep but your own Four Quarters.
_Lady Smart._ My Lord, has Captain _Brag_ the Honour to be related to
your Lordship?
_Ld. Sparkish._ Very nearly, Madam; he’s my Cousin-German quite remov’d.
_Lady Answ._ Pray, is he not rich?
_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay, a rich Rogue, Two Shirts and a Rag.
_Col._ Well, however, they say, he has a great Estate, but only the Right
Owner keeps him out of it.
_Lady Smart._ What Religion is he of?
_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, he is an _Anythingarian_.
_Lady Answ._ I believe, he has his Religion to chuse, my Lord.
[——Neverout _scratches his Neck_.——
_Miss._ Fie, Mr. _Neverout_, ar’n’t you asham’d! I beg Pardon for
the Expression, but I’m afraid, your Bosom-friends are become your
Back-biters.
_Neverout._ Well, Miss, I saw a Flea once on your Pinner, and a L—— is a
Man’s Companion, but a Flea is a Dog’s Companion: However, I wish, you
would scratch my Neck with your pretty white Hand.
_Miss._ And who would be Fool then? I wou’dn’t touch a Man’s Flesh for
the Universe: You have the wrong Sow by the Ear, I assure you! that’s
Meat for your Master.
_Neverout._ Miss _Notable_, all Quarrels laid aside, pray, step hither
for a Moment.
_Miss._ I’ll wash my Hands, and wait on you, Sir; but, pray, come hither,
and try to open this Lock.
_Neverout._ We’ll try what we can do.
_Miss._ We:——What, have you Pigs in your Belly?
_Neverout._ Miss, I assure you, I am very handy at all Things.
_Miss._ Marry, hang them that can’t give themselves a good Word: I
believe, you may have an even Hand to throw a L—— in the Fire.
_Col._ Well, I must be plain; here’s a very bad Smell.
_Miss._ Perhaps, Colonel, the Fox is the Finder.
_Neverout._ No, Colonel; ’tis only your Teeth against Rain: But——
_Miss._ Colonel, I find, you would make a very bad poor Man’s Sow.
[——Colonel _coughing_.——
_Col._ I have got a sad Cold.
_Lady Answ._ Ay; ’tis well if one can get any thing these hard Times.
_Miss._ [_to Col._] Choak, Chicken; there’s more a hatching.
_Lady Smart._ Pray, Colonel, how did you get that Cold?
_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Madam, I suppose, the Colonel got it, by lying a Bed
barefoot.
_Lady Answ._ Why, then, Colonel, you must take it for better for worse,
as a Man takes his Wife.
_Col._ Well, Ladies, I apprehend you without a Constable.
_Miss._ Mr. _Neverout_! Mr. _Neverout_! come hither this Moment!
_Lady Smart._ [_imitating her._] Mr. _Neverout_, Mr. _Neverout_! I wish,
he were tied to your Girdle.
_Neverout._ What’s the Matter! whose Mare’s dead now?
_Miss._ Take your Labour for your Pains; you may go back again, like a
Fool, as you came.
_Neverout._ Well, Miss; if you deceive me a second time, ’tis my Fault.
_Lady Smart._ Colonel, methinks your Coat is too short.
_Col._ It will be long enough before I get another, Madam.
_Miss._ Come, come; the Coat’s a good Coat, and come of good Friends.
_Neverout._ Ladies, you are mistaken in the Stuff; ’tis half Silk.
_Col._ _Tom Neverout_, you are a Fool, and that’s your Fault.
[——_A great Noise below._——
_Lady Smart._ Hey! what a Clattering is here; one would think, Hell was
broke loose.
_Miss._ Indeed, Madam, I must take my Leave, for I a’n’t well.
_Lady Smart._ What! you are sick of the Mulligrubs, with eating chopt Hay.
_Miss._ No, indeed, Madam; I’m sick and hungry, more need of a Cook than
a Doctor.
_Lady Answ._ Poor Miss, she’s sick as a Cushion, she wants nothing but
stuffing.
_Col._ If you are sick, you shall have a Caudle of Calf’s Eggs.
_Neverout._ I can’t find my Gloves.
_Miss._ I saw the Dog running away with some dirty thing awhile ago.
_Col._ Miss, you have got my Handkerchief; pray, let me have it.
_Lady Smart._ No, keep it, Miss; for they say, Possession is Eleven
Points of the Law.
_Miss._ Madam, he shall ne’er have it again; ’tis in Hucksters Hands.
_Lady Answ._ What! I see ’tis Raining again.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, then, Madam, we must do, as they do in _Spain_.
_Miss._ Pray, my Lord, how is that?
_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Madam, we must let it rain.
[——Miss _whispers Lady_ Smart.——
_Neverout._ There’s no Whispering, but there’s Lying.
_Miss._ Lord! Mr. _Neverout_, you are as pert as a Pearmonger this
Morning.
_Neverout._ Indeed, Miss, you are very handsome.
_Miss._ Poh! I know that already; tell me News.
[——_Somebody knocks at the Door._—— Footman _comes in_.
_Footman._ [_to Col._] An please your Honour, there’s a Man below wants
to speak to you.
_Col._ Ladies, your Pardon for a Minute.
[Col. _goes out_.
_Lady Smart._ Miss, I sent yesterday to know how you did, but you were
gone abroad early.
_Miss._ Why, indeed, Madam, I was hunch’d up in a Hackney-Coach with
Three Country Acquaintance, who call’d upon me to take the Air as far as
_Highgate_.
_Lady Smart._ And had you a pleasant Airing?
_Miss._ No, Madam; it rain’d all the Time; I was jolted to Death, and
the Road was so bad, that I scream’d every Moment, and call’d to the
Coachman, Pray, Friend, don’t spill us.
_Neverout._ So, Miss, you were afraid, that Pride wou’d have a Fall.
_Miss._ Mr. _Neverout_, when I want a Fool, I’ll send for you.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Miss, didn’t your Left Ear burn last Night?
_Miss._ Pray, why, my Lord?
_Ld. Sparkish._ Because I was then in some Company where you were
extoll’d to the Skies, I assure you.
_Miss._ My Lord, that was more their Goodness, than my Desert.
_Ld. Sparkish._ They said, that you were a complete Beauty.
_Miss._ My Lord, I am as God made me.
_Lady Smart._ The Girl’s well enough, if she had but another Nose.
_Miss._ Oh! Madam, I know I shall always have your good Word; you love to
help a lame Dog over the Style.
[——_One knocks._——
_Lady Smart._ Who’s there? you’re on the wrong Side of the Door; come in,
if you be fat.
[——Colonel _comes in again_.——
_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Colonel, you are a Man of great Business.
_Col._ Ay, ay, my Lord, I’m like my Lord Mayor’s Fool; full of Business,
and nothing to do.
_Lady Smart._ My Lord, don’t you think the Colonel mightily fall’n away
of late?
_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay; fall’n from a Horse-load to a Cart-load.
_Col._ Why, my Lord, egad I am like a Rabbit, fat and lean in
Four-and-twenty Hours.
_Lady Smart._ I assure you, the Colonel walks as strait as a Pin.
_Miss._ Yes; he’s a handsome-body’d Man in the Face.
_Neverout._ A handsome Foot and Leg: God-a-mercy Shoe and Stocking!
_Col._ What! Three upon One! that’s foul Play: This wou’d make a Parson
swear.
_Neverout._ Why, Miss, what’s the Matter? You look as if you had neither
won nor lost.
_Col._ Why, you must know, Miss lives upon Love.
_Miss._ Yes; upon Love and Lumps of the Cupboard.
_Lady Answ._ Ay; they say, Love and Peas-porridge are two dangerous
Things; one breaks the Heart, and the other the Belly.
_Miss._ [_imitating Lady_ Answerall’_s Tone._] Very pretty! One breaks
the Heart, and the other the Belly.
_Lady Answ._ Have a Care; they say, mocking is catching.
_Miss._ I never heard that.
_Neverout._ Why, then, Miss, you have a Wrinkle——more than ever you had
before.
_Miss._ Well; live and learn.
_Neverout._ Ay; and be hang’d, and forget all.
_Miss._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, take it as you please; but I swear, you are
a saucy Jack, to use such Expressions.
_Neverout._ Why, then, Miss, if you go to that, I must tell you, there’s
ne’er a Jack but there’s a Jill.
_Miss._ Oh! Mr. _Neverout_; every body knows that you are the Pink of
Courtesy.
_Neverout._ And, Miss, all the World allows, that you are the Flower of
Civility.
_Lady Smart._ Miss, I hear there was a great deal of Company where you
visited last Night: Pray, who were they?
_Miss._ Why, there was old Lady _Forward_, Miss _To-and-again_, Sir _John
Ogle_, my Lady _Clapper_, and I, quoth the Dog.
_Col._ Was your Visit long, Miss?
_Miss._ Why, truly, they went all to the Opera; and so poor Pilgarlick
came Home alone.
_Neverout._ Alack a day, poor Miss! methinks it grieves me to pity you.
_Miss._ What, you think, you said a fine Thing now; well, if I had a Dog
with no more Wit, I would hang him.
_Ld. Smart._ Miss, if it be Manners, may I ask, which is oldest, you or
Lady _Scuttle_?
_Miss._ Why, my Lord, when I die for Age, she may quake for Fear.
_Lady Smart._ She’s a very great Gadder abroad.
_Lady Answ._ Lord! she made me follow her last Week through all the Shops
like a Tantiny Pig.
_Lady Smart._ I remember, you told me, you had been with her from _Dan_
to _Beersheba_.
[——Colonel _spits_.——
_Col._ Lord! I shall die; I cannot spit from me.
_Miss._ Oh! Mr. _Neverout_, my little Countess has just litter’d; speak
me fair, and I’ll set you down for a Puppy.
_Neverout._ Why, Miss, if I speak you fair, perhaps I mayn’t tell Truth.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay, but _Tom_, smoke that, she calls you Puppy by Craft.
_Neverout._ Well, Miss, you ride the Fore-horse To-day.
_Miss._ Ay, many a one says well, that thinks ill.
_Neverout._ Fie, Miss! you said that once before; and, you know, Too much
of one Thing is good for nothing.
_Miss._ Why, sure, we can’t say a good Thing too often.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Well, so much for that, and Butter for Fish; let us call
another Cause: Pray, Madam, does your Ladyship know Mrs. _Nice_?
_Lady Smart._ Perfectly well, my Lord; she’s nice by Name, and nice by
Nature.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Is it possible, she could take that Booby _Tom Blunder_
for Love?
_Miss._ She had good Skill in Horse-flesh, that could chuse a Goose to
ride on.
_Lady Answ._ Why, my Lord, ’twas her Fate; they say, Marriage and Hanging
go by Destiny.
_Col._ I believe she’ll never be burnt for a Witch.
_Ld. Sparkish._ They say, Marriages are made in Heaven; but I doubt, when
she was married, she had no Friend there.
_Neverout._ Well, she’s got out of God’s Blessing into the warm Sun.
_Col._ The Fellow’s well enough, if he had any Guts in his Brains.
_Lady Smart._ They say, thereby hangs a Tale.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, he’s a mere Hobbledehoy, neither a Man nor a Boy.
_Miss._ Well, if I were to chuse a Husband, I would never be married to a
little Man.
_Neverout._ Pray, why so, Miss? for they say, of all Evils we ought to
chuse the least.
_Miss._ Because Folks would say, when they saw us together, There goes
the Woman and her Husband.
_Col._ [_to Lady Smart._] Will your Ladyship be on the _Mall_ To-morrow
Night?
_Lady Smart._ No, that won’t be proper; you know, To-morrow’s _Sunday_?
_Ld. Sparkish._ What then, Madam! they say, the better Day, the better
Deed.
_Lady Answ._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, how do you like Lady _Fruzz_?
_Neverout._ Pox on her! she’s as old as _Poles_.
_Miss._ So will you be, if you ben’t hang’d when you’re young.
_Neverout._ Come, Miss, let us be Friends: Will you go to the Park this
Evening?
_Miss._ With all my Heart, and a Piece of my Liver; but not with you.
_Lady Smart._ I’ll tell you one thing, and that’s not two; I’m afraid I
shall get a Fit of the Headach To-day.
_Col._ Oh! Madam, don’t be afraid, it comes with a Fright.
_Miss._ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam; one of your Ladyship’s Lappets is longer
than t’other.
_Lady Answ._ Well, no Matter; they that ride on a trotting Horse will
ne’er perceive it.
_Neverout._ Indeed, Miss, your Lappets hang worse.
_Miss._ Well, I love a Lyar in my Heart, and you fit me to a Hair.
[——Miss _rises up_.——
_Neverout._ Duce take you, Miss! you trod on my Foot: I hope you don’t
intend to come to my Bedside.
_Miss._ In Troth, you are afraid of your Friends, and none of them near
you.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Well said, Girl! [_giving her a Chuck._] Take that; they
say, a Chuck under the Chin is worth Two Kisses.
_Lady Answ._ But, Mr. _Neverout_, I wonder why such a handsome, strait,
young Gentleman as you, do not get some rich Widow.
_Ld. Sparkish._ Strait! Ay, strait as my Leg, and that’s crooked at Knee.
_Neverout._ Faith, Madam, if it rain’d rich Widows, none of them would
fall upon me. Egad, I was born under a Threepenny Planet, never to be
worth a Groat.
_Lady Answ._ No, Mr. _Neverout_; I believe you were born with a Cawl on
your Head; you are such a Favourite among the Ladies: But what think you
of Widow _Prim_? she’s immensely rich.
_Neverout._ Hang her! they say, her Father was a Baker.
_Lady Smart._ Ay; but it is not what is she? but what has she? now-a-days.
_Col._ _Tom_, faith, put on a bold Face for once, and have at the Widow.
I’ll speak a good Word for you to her.
_Lady Answ._ Ay; I warrant, you’ll speak one Word for him, and two for
yourself.
_Miss._ Well; I had that at my Tongue’s End.
_Lady Answ._ Why, Miss, they say, good Wits jump.
_Neverout._ Faith, Madam, I had rather marry a Woman I lov’d, in her
Smock, than Widow _Prim_, if she had her Weight in Gold.
_Lady Smart._ Come, come, Mr. _Neverout_; Marriage is honourable, but
Housekeeping is a Shrew.
_Lady Answ._ Consider, Mr. _Neverout_, Four bare Legs in a Bed; and you
are a younger Brother.
_Col._ Well, Madam; the younger Brother is the better Gentleman: However,
_Tom_, I would advise you to look before you leap.
_Ld. Sparkish._ The Colonel says true: Besides, you can’t expect to wive
and thrive in the same Year.
_Miss._ [_shuddering._] Lord! there’s somebody walking over my Grave.
_Col._ Pray, Lady _Answerall_, where was you last _Wednesday_, when I did
myself the Honour to wait on you? I think, your Ladyship is one of the
Tribe of _Gad_.
_Lady Answ._ Why, Colonel, I was at Church.
_Col._ Nay, then will I be hang’d, and my Horse too.
_Neverout._ I believe her Ladyship was at a Church with a Chimney in it.
_Miss._ Lord, my Petticoat! how it hangs by Jommetry.
_Neverout._ Perhaps the Fault may be in your Shape.
_Miss._ [_looking gravely._] Come, Mr. _Neverout_, there’s no Jest like
the true Jest; but, I suppose, you think my Back’s broad enough to bear
every Thing.
_Neverout._ Madam, I humbly beg your Pardon.