Part 7

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, you must know, that our King _James_ the First, who lov’d good Eating, being invited to Dinner by one of his Nobles, and seeing a large Loyn of Beef at his Table, he drew out his Sword, and in a Frolic knighted it. Few People know the Secret of this.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Beef is Man’s Meat, my Lord.

_Ld. Smart._ But, my Lord, I say, Beef is the King of Meat.

_Miss._ Pray, what have I done, that I must not have a Plate?

_Lady Smart._ [_to Lady Answ._] What will your Ladyship please to eat?

_Lady Answ._ Pray, Madam, help yourself.

_Col._ They say, Eating and Scratching wants but a Beginning: If you will give me Leave, I’ll help myself to a Slice of this Shoulder of Veal.

_Lady Smart._ Colonel, you can’t do a kinder thing: Well, you are all heartily welcome, as I may say.

_Col._ They say, there are Thirty-and-two good Bits in a Shoulder of Veal.

_Lady Smart._ Ay, Colonel; Thirty bad Bits, and Two good ones: you see, I understand you; but I hope, you have got one of the two good ones.

_Neverout._ Colonel, I’ll be of your Mess.

_Col._ Then, pray, _Tom_, carve for yourself: They say, Two Hands in a Dish, and One in a Purse: Hah, said I well, _Tom_?

_Neverout._ Colonel, you spoke like an Oracle.

_Miss._ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, will your Ladyship help me to some Fish?

_Ld. Smart._ [_to Neverout._] _Tom_, they say, Fish should swim thrice.

_Neverout._ How is that, my Lord?

_Ld. Smart._ Why, _Tom_, first it should swim in the Sea, (do you mind me?) then it should swim in Butter; and at last, Sirrah, it should swim in good Claret. I think, I have made it out.

_Footman._ [_to Ld. Smart._] My Lord, Sir _John Linger_ is coming up.

_Ld. Smart._ God so! I invited him to dine with me To-day, and forgot it: Well, desire him to walk in.

[_Sir_ John Linger _comes in_.

_Sir John._ What! are you at it? Why, then, I’ll be gone.

_Lady Smart._ Sir _John_, I beg you will sit down: Come, the more the merrier.

_Sir John._ Ay; but the fewer the better Cheer.

_Lady Smart._ Well, I am the worst in the World at making Apologies; it was my Lord’s Fault: I doubt you must kiss the Hare’s Foot.

_Sir John._ I see you are fast by the Teeth.

_Col._ Faith, Sir _John_, we are killing that, that would kill us.

_Ld. Sparkish._ You see, Sir _John_, we are upon a Business of Life and Death: Come, will you do as we do? You are come in Pudden-Time.

_Sir John._ Ay; this would you be doing if I were dead. What! you keep Court-Hours I see: I’ll be going, and get a Bit of Meat at my Inn.

_Lady Smart._ Why, we won’t eat you, Sir _John_.

_Sir John._ It is my own Fault; but I was kept by a Fellow who bought some _Derbyshire_ Oxen from me.

_Neverout._ You see, Sir _John_, we stay’d for you, as one Horse does for another.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord, will you help Sir _John_ to some Beef? Lady _Answerall_, pray, eat, you see your Dinner: I am sure, if we had known we should have such good Company, we should have been better provided; but you must take the Will for the Deed. I’m afraid you are invited to your Loss.

_Col._ And, pray, Sir _John_, how do you like the Town? You have been absent a long Time.

_Sir John._ Why, I find, little _London_ stands just where it did when I left it last.

_Neverout._ What do you think of _Hannover-Square_? Why, Sir _John_, _London_ is gone out of Town since you saw it.

_Lady Smart._ Sir _John_, I can only say, you are heartily welcome; and I wish I had something better for you.

_Col._ Here’s no Salt; Cuckolds will run away with the Meat.

_Ld. Smart._ Pray, edge a little, to make more Room for Sir _John_: Sir _John_, fall to, you know Half an Hour is soon lost at Dinner.

_Sir John._ I protest I can’t eat a Bit, for I took Share of a Beef-stake and Two Muggs of Ale with my Chapman, besides a Tankard of _March_ Beer, as soon as I got out of Bed.

_Lady Answ._ Not fresh and fasting, I hope?

_Sir John._ Yes, faith, Madam; I always wash my Kettle before I put the Meat in it.

_Lady Smart._ Poh! Sir _John_; you have seen Nine Houses since you eat last: Come, you have kept a Corner of your Stomach for a Piece of Venison-Pasty.

_Sir John._ Well, I’ll try what I can do, when it comes up.

_Lady Answ._ Come, Sir _John_, you may go further, and fare worse.

_Miss._ [_to Neverout._] Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, will you please to send me a Piece of Tongue?

_Neverout._ By no means, Madam; one Tongue’s enough for a Woman.

_Col._ Miss, here’s a Tongue that never told a Lye.

_Miss._ That was, because it could not speak. Why, Colonel, I never told a Lye in my Life.

_Neverout._ I appeal to all the Company, whether that be not the greatest Lye that ever was told.

_Col._ [_to Neverout._] Pr’ythee, _Tom_, send me the Two Legs and Rump and Liver of that Pigeon; for, you must know, I love what nobody else loves.

_Neverout._ But what if any of the Ladies should long? Well, here take it, and the D—l do you good with it.

_Lady Answ._ Well; this Eating and Drinking takes away a body’s Stomach.

_Neverout._ I am sure I have lost mine.

_Miss._ What! the Bottom of it, I suppose.

_Neverout._ No, really, Miss; I have quite lost it.

_Miss._ I should be very sorry a poor body had found it.

_Lady Smart._ But, Sir _John_, we hear you are marry’d since we saw you last: What! you have stolen a Wedding it seems.

_Sir John._ Well; one can’t do a foolish thing once in one’s Life, but one must hear of it a hundred times.

_Col._ And pray, Sir _John_, how does your Lady unknown?

_Sir John._ My Wife’s well, Colonel; and at your Service in a civil way. Ha, ha. [_he laughs._

_Miss._ Pray, Sir _John_, is your Lady tall or short?

_Sir John._ Why, Miss, I thank God, she is a Little Evil.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Come, give me a Glass of Claret.

[Footman _fills him a Bumper_.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why do you fill so much?

_Neverout._ My Lord, he fills as he loves you.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, shall I send you some Cowcomber?

_Miss._ Madam, I dare not touch it; for they say, Cowcombers are cold in the third Degree.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, do you love Pudden?

_Neverout._ Madam, I’m like all Fools, I love every thing that is good; but the Proof of the Pudden is in the Eating.

_Col._ Sir _John_, I hear you are a great Walker when you are at Home.

_Sir John._ No, faith, Colonel; I always love to walk with a Horse in my Hand: But I have had devilish bad Luck in Horse-flesh of late.

_Ld. Smart._ Why then, Sir _John_, you must kiss a Parson’s Wife.

_Lady Smart._ They say, Sir _John_, that your Lady has a great deal of Wit.

_Sir John._ Madam, she can make a Pudden; and has just Wit enough to know her Husband’s Breeches from another Man’s.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord _Sparkish_, I have some excellent Cyder, will you please to taste it?

_Ld. Sparkish._ My Lord, I should like it well enough, if it were not so treacherous.

_Ld. Smart._ Pray, my Lord, how is it treacherous?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Because it smiles in my Face, and cuts my Throat. [_Here a loud laugh._]

_Miss._ Odd-so! Madam; your Knives are very sharp, for I have cut my Finger.

_Lady Smart._ I am sorry for it; pray, which Finger? (God bless the Mark.)

_Miss._ Why, this Finger: No, ’tis this: I vow I can’t find which it is.

_Neverout._ Ay; the Fox had a Wound, and he could not tell where, _&c._ Bring some Water to throw in her Face.

_Miss._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, did you ever draw a Sword in Anger? I warrant you would faint at the Sight of your own Blood.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, shall I send you some Veal?

_Neverout._ No, Madam; I don’t love it.

_Miss._ Then pray for them that do. I desire your Ladyship will send me a Bit.

_Ld. Smart._ _Tom_, my Service to you.

_Neverout._ My Lord, this Moment I did myself the Honour to drink to your Lordship.

_Ld. Smart._ Why then that’s _Hartfordshire_ Kindness.

_Neverout._ Faith, my Lord, I pledged myself, for I drank twice together without thinking.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why then, Colonel, my humble Service to You.

_Neverout._ Pray, my Lord, don’t make a Bridge of my Nose.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well, a Glass of this Wine is as comfortable as Matrimony to an old Woman.

_Col._ Sir _John_, I design one of these Days to come and beat up your Quarters in _Derbyshire_.

_Sir John._ Faith, Colonel, come and welcome; and stay away, and heartily welcome: But you were born within the Sound of _Bow_ Bell, and don’t care to stir so far from _London_.

_Miss._ Pray, Colonel, send me some Fritters.

[_Colonel takes them out with his Hand._

_Col._ Here, Miss; they say, Fingers were made before Forks, and Hands before Knives.

_Lady Smart._ Methinks this Pudden is too much boil’d.

_Ld. Answ._ Oh! Madam, they say, a Pudden is Poison when it’s too much boil’d.

_Neverout._ Miss, shall I help you to a Pigeon? Here’s a Pigeon so finely roasted, it cries, Come eat me.

_Miss._ No, Sir; I thank you.

_Neverout._ Why, then you may chuse.

_Miss._ I have chosen already.

_Neverout._ Well, you may be worse offer’d, before you are twice marry’d.

[_The Colonel fills a large Plate of Soupe._

_Ld. Smart._ Why, Colonel, you don’t mean to eat all that Soupe?

_Col._ O my Lord, this is my sick Dish; when I am well, I’ll have a bigger.

_Miss_ [_to Col._] Sup, _Simon_; very good Broth.

_Neverout._ This seems to be a good Pullet.

_Miss._ I warrant, Mr. _Neverout_ knows what’s good for himself.

_Ld. Sparkish._ _Tom_, I shan’t take your Word for it; help me to a Wing.

[Neverout _tryes to cut off a Wing_.

_Neverout._ Egad I can’t hit the Joint.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, then, think of a Cuckold.

_Neverout._ Oh! now I have nick’d it.

[_Gives it Ld._ Sparkish.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, a Man may eat this, tho’ his Wife lay a dying.

_Col._ Pray, Friend, give me a Glass of Small Beer, if it be good.

_Ld. Smart._ Why, Colonel, they say, there is no such thing as good Small Beer, good Brown Bread, or a good Old Woman.

_Lady Smart._ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, I beg your Ladyship’s Pardon; I did not see you when I was cutting that Bit.

_Lady Answ._ Oh! Madam; after you is good Manners.

_Lady Smart._ Lord! here’s a Hair in the Sauce.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Then set the Hounds after it.

_Neverout._ Pray, Colonel, help me however to some of that same Sauce.

_Col._ Come; I think you are more Sauce than Pig.

_Ld. Smart._ Sir _John_, chear up: My Service to you: Well, what do you think of the World to come?

_Sir John._ Truly, my Lord, I think of it as little as I can.

_Lady Smart_ [_putting a Scewer on a Plate._] Here, take this Scewer, and carry it down to the Cook, to dress it for her own Dinner.

_Neverout._ I beg your Ladyship’s Pardon; but this Small Beer is dead.

_Lady Smart._ Why, then, let it be bury’d.

_Col._ This is admirable Black Pudden: Miss, shall I carve you some? I can just carve Pudden, and that’s all; I am the worst Carver in the World; I should never make a good Chaplain.

_Miss._ No, thank ye, Colonel; for they say, those that eat Black Pudden will dream of the Devil.

_Ld. Smart._ O, here comes the Venison-Pasty: Here, take the Soupe away.

_Ld. Smart._ [_He cuts it up, and tastes the Venison._] ’Sbuds! this Venison is musty.

[Neverout _eats a Piece, and it burns his Mouth_.

_Ld. Smart._ What’s the Matter, _Tom_? You have Tears in your Eyes, I think: What dost cry for, Man?

_Neverout._ My Lord, I was just thinking of my poor Grandmother; She died just this very Day Seven Years.

[Miss _takes a Bit, and burns her Mouth_.

_Neverout._ And, pray, Miss, why do you cry too?

_Miss._ Because you were not hang’d the Day your Grandmother died.

_Ld. Smart._ I’d have given Forty Pounds, Miss, to have said that.

_Col._ Egad, I think, the more I eat, the hungrier I am.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Colonel, they say, one Shoulder of Mutton drives down another.

_Neverout._ Egad, if I were to fast for my Life, I would take a good Breakfast in the Morning, a good Dinner at Noon, and a good Supper at Night.

_Ld. Sparkish._ My Lord, this Venison is plaguily pepper’d; your Cook has a heavy Hand.

_Ld. Smart._ My Lord, I hope, you are Pepper-proof: Come, here’s a Health to the Founders.

_Lady Smart._ Ay; and to the Confounders too.

_Ld. Smart._ Lady _Answerall_, does not your Ladyship love Venison?

_Lady Answ._ No, my Lord, I can’t endure it in my Sight, therefore please to send me a good Piece of Meat and Crust.

_Ld. Sparkish_ [_drinks to Neverout._] Come, _Tom_; not always to my Friends, but once to you.

_Neverout_ [_drinks to Lady Smart._] Come, Madam; here’s a Health to our Friends, and hang the rest of our Kin.

_Lady Smart_ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, will your Ladyship have any of this Hare?

_Lady Answ._ No, Madam; they say, ’tis melancholy Meat.

_Lady Smart._ Then, Madam, shall I send you the Brains? I beg your Ladyship’s Pardon; for they say, ’tis not good Manners to offer Brains.

_Lady Answ._ No, Madam; for perhaps it will make me hare-brain’d.

_Neverout._ Miss, I must tell you one thing.

_Miss_ [_with a Glass in her Hand._] Hold your Tongue, Mr. _Neverout_; don’t speak in my Tip.

_Col._ Well, he was an ingenious Man, that first found out Eating and Drinking.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Of all Vittles Drink digests the quickest: Give me a Glass of Wine.

_Neverout._ My Lord, your Wine is too strong.

_Ld. Smart._ Ay, _Tom_; as much as you are too good.

_Miss._ This Almond Pudden was pure good; but it is grown quite cold.

_Neverout._ So much the better, Miss; cold Pudden will settle your Love.

_Miss._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, are you going to take a Voyage?

_Neverout._ Why do you ask, Miss?

_Miss._ Because you have laid in so much Beef.

_Sir John._ You Two have eat up the whole Pudden betwixt you.

_Miss._ Sir _John_, here’s a little Bit left; will you please to have it?

_Sir John._ No, thankee; I don’t love to make a Fool of my Mouth.

_Col._ [_calling to the Butler._] _John_, is your Small Beer good?

_Butler._ An please your Honour, my Lord and Lady like it; I think it is good.

_Col._ Why then, _John_, d’yesee? if you are sure your Small Beer is good, d’yemark? Then, give me a Glass of Wine.

[_All laugh._

[_Colonel tasting the Wine._

_Ld. Smart._ Sir _John_, how does your Neighbour _Gatherall_ of the _Peak_? I hear, he has lately made a Purchase.

_Sir John._ Oh, _Dick Gatherall_ knows how to butter his Bread, as well as any Man in _Darbyshire_.

_Ld. Smart._ Why, he us’d to go very fine, when he was here in Town.

_Sir John._ Ay; and it became him, as a Saddle becomes a Sow.

_Col._ I know his Lady, and I think she is a very good Woman.

_Sir John._ Faith, she has more Goodness in her little Finger, than he has in his whole Body.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, Colonel, how do you like that Wine?

_Col._ This Wine should be eaten; it is too good to be drunk.

_Ld. Smart._ I’m very glad you like it; and pray don’t spare it.

_Col._ No, my Lord; I’ll never starve in a Cook’s Shop.

_Ld. Smart._ And pray, Sir _John_, what do You say to my Wine?

_Sir John._ I’ll take another Glass first; second Thoughts are best.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Lady _Smart_, you sit near that Ham; will you please to send me a Bit?

_Lady Smart._ With all my Heart. [_She sends him a Piece._] Pray, my Lord, how do you like it?

_Ld. Sparkish._ I think it is a Limb of _Lot_’s Wife. [_He eats it with Mustard._] Egad, my Lord, your Mustard is very uncivil.

_Ld. Smart._ Why uncivil, my Lord?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Because it takes me by the Nose, egad.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, I find you are a very good Carver.

_Col._ O Madam, that is no Wonder; for you must know, _Tom Neverout_ carves a _Sundays_.

[Neverout _overturns the Salt-celler_.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, you have overturn’d the Salt, and that’s a Sign of Anger: I’m afraid, Miss and You will fall out.

_Lady Answ._ No, no; throw a little of it into the Fire, and all will be well.

_Neverout._ O Madam, the falling out of Lovers, you know.

_Miss._ Lovers! very fine! fall out with Him! I wonder when we were in!

_Sir John._ For my Part, I believe, the young Gentlewoman is his Sweetheart; there’s so much Fooling and Fidling betwixt them: I’m sure, they say in our Country, that — — — is the Beginning of Love.

_Miss._ I own, I love Mr. _Neverout_, as the Devil loves Holy Water; I love him like Pye, I’d rather the Devil had him than I.

_Neverout._ Miss, I’ll tell you one thing.

_Miss._ Come, here’s t’ ye, to stop your Mouth.

_Neverout._ I’d rather you would stop it with a Kiss.

_Miss._ A Kiss! marry come up, my dirty Cousin; are you no sicker? Lord, I wonder what Fool it was that first invented Kissing!

_Neverout._ Well, I’m very dry.

_Miss._ Then you’re the better to burn, and the worse to fry.

_Lady Answ._ God bless you, Colonel; you have a good Stroke with you.

_Col._ O Madam; formerly I could eat all, but now I leave nothing; I eat but one Meal a Day.

_Miss._ What! I suppose, Colonel, that’s from Morning till Night.

_Neverout._ Faith, Miss; and well was his Wont.

_Ld. Smart._ Pray, Lady _Answerall_, taste this Bit of Venison.

_Lady Answ._ I hope, your Lordship will set me a good Example.

_Ld. Smart._ Here’s a Glass of Cyder fill’d: Miss, you must drink it.

_Miss._ Indeed, my Lord, I can’t.

_Neverout._ Come, Miss; better Belly burst, than good Liquor be lost.

_Miss._ Pish! well in Life there was never any thing so teizing; I had rather shed it in my Shoes: I wish it were in your Guts, for my Share.

_Ld. Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, you han’t tasted my Cyder yet.

_Neverout._ No, my Lord: I have been just eating Soupe; and they say, if one drinks in one’s Porridge, one will cough in one’s Grave.

_Ld. Smart._ Come, take Miss’s Glass, she wish’d it was in your Guts; let her have her Wish for once: Ladies can’t abide to have their Inclinations cross’d.

_Lady Smart_ [_to Sir John._] I think, Sir _John_, you have not tasted the Venison yet.

_Sir John._ I seldom eat it, Madam: However, please to send me a little of the Crust.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Sir _John_, you had as good eat the Devil as the Broth he’s boil’d in.

_Col._ Well, this Eating and Drinking takes away a body’s Stomach, as Lady _Answerall_ says.

_Neverout._ I have dined as well as my Lord Mayor.

_Miss._ I thought I could have eaten this Wing of a Chicken; but my Eye’s bigger than my Belly.

_Ld. Smart._ Indeed, Lady _Answerall_, you have eaten nothing.

_Lady Answ._ Pray, my Lord, see all the Bones on my Plate: They say, a Carpenter’s known by his Chips.

_Neverout._ Miss, will you reach me that Glass of Jelly?

_Miss_ [_giving it to him._] You see, ’tis but ask and have.

_Neverout._ Miss, I would have a bigger Glass.

_Miss._ What! you don’t know your own Mind; you are neither well, full nor fasting; I think that is enough.

_Neverout._ Ay, one of the Enough’s; I am sure it is little enough.

_Miss._ Yes; but you know, sweet Things are bad for the Teeth.

_Neverout_ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, I don’t like that Part of the Veal you sent me.

_Lady Answ._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, I find you are a true _Englishman_; you never know when you are well.

_Col._ Well, I have made my whole Dinner of Beef.

_Lady Answ._ Why, Colonel, a Belly-full’s a Belly-full, if it be but of Wheat-straw.

_Col._ Well, after all, Kitchen-Physic is the best Physic.

_Ld. Smart._ And the best Doctors in the World are Doctor _Dyet_, Doctor _Quiet_, and Doctor _Merryman_.

_Ld. Sparkish._ What do you think of a little House well fill’d?

_Sir John._ And a little Land well till’d?

_Col._ Ay; and a little Wife well will’d?

_Neverout._ My Lady _Smart_, pray help me to some of the Breast of that Goose.

_Ld. Smart._ _Tom_, I have heard, that Goose upon Goose is false Heraldry.

_Miss._ What! will you never have done stuffing?

_Ld. Smart._ This Goose is quite raw: Well, God sends Meat, but the Devil sends Cooks.

_Neverout._ Miss, can you tell which is the white Goose, or the gray Goose the Gander?

_Miss._ They say, a Fool will ask more Questions than the wisest body can answer.

_Col._ Indeed, Miss, _Tom Neverout_ has posed you.

_Miss._ Why, Colonel, every Dog has his Day; but, I believe, I shall never see a Goose again without thinking on Mr. _Neverout_.

_Ld. Smart._ Well said, Miss; faith. Girl, thou hast brought thyself off cleverly. _Tom_, what say you to that?

_Col._ Faith, _Tom_ is nonplust; he looks plaguily down in the Mouth.

_Miss._ Why, my Lord, you see he is the provokingest Creature in Life; I believe there is not such another in the varsal World.

_Lady Answ._ Oh, Miss! the World’s a wide Place.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss, I’ll give you Leave to call me any thing, if you don’t call me Spade.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, but, after all, _Tom_, can you tell me what’s _Latin_ for a Goose.

_Neverout._ O my Lord, I know that; why _Brandy_ is _Latin_ for a Goose, and _Tace_ is _Latin_ for a Candle.

_Miss._ Is that Manners, to shew your Learning before Ladies? Methinks you are grown very brisk of a sudden; I think the Man’s glad he’s alive.

_Sir John._ The Devil take your Wit, if this be Wit; for it spoils Company: Pray, Mr. _Butler_, bring me a Dram after my Goose; ’tis very good for the Wholsoms.

_Ld. Smart._ Come, bring me the Loaf; I sometimes love to cut my own Bread.

_Miss._ I suppose, my Lord, you lay longest a Bed To-day.

_Ld. Smart._ Miss, if I had said so, I should have told a Fib; I warrant you lay a Bed till the Cows came Home: But, Miss, shall I cut you a little Crust now my Hand is in?

_Miss._ If you please, my Lord, a Bit of Under-crust.

_Neverout._ [_whispering Miss._] I find, you love to lie under.

_Miss._ _aloud_ [_pushing him from her._] What does the Man mean! Sir, I don’t understand you at all.

_Neverout._ Come, all Quarrels laid aside: Here, Miss, may you live a thousand Years.

[_He drinks to her._

_Miss._ Pray, Sir, don’t stint me.

_Ld. Smart._ Sir _John_, will you taste my _October_? I think it is very good; but I believe not equal to yours in _Darbyshire_.

_Sir John._ My Lord, I beg your Pardon; but they say, the Devil made Askers.

_Ld. Smart._ [_to the Butler._] Here, bring up the great Tankard full of _October_ for Sir _John_.

_Col._ [_drinking to Miss._] Miss, your Health; may you live all the Days of your Life.

_Lady Answ._ Well, Miss, you’ll certainly be soon marry’d; here’s Two Batchelors drinking to you at once.

_Lady Smart._ Indeed, Miss, I believe you were wrapt in your Mother’s Smock, you are so well belov’d.

_Miss._ Where’s my Knife? Sure I han’t eaten it. Oh! here it is.

_Sir John._ No, Miss; but your Maidenhead hangs in your Light.

_Miss._ Pray, Sir _John_, is that a _Darbyshire_ Compliment? Here, Mr. _Neverout_, will you take this Piece of Rabbit that you bid me carve for you?

_Neverout._ I don’t know.

_Miss._ Why, take it, or let it alone.

_Neverout._ I will.

_Miss._ What will you?

_Neverout._ Why, I’ll take it, or let it alone.

_Miss._ You are a provoking Creature.

_Sir John_ [_talking with a Glass of Wine in his Hand._] I remember a Farmer in our Country——

_Ld. Smart_ [_interrupting him._] Pray, Sir _John_, did you ever hear of Parson _Palmer_?

_Sir John._ No, my Lord; what of him?

_Ld. Smart._ Why, he used to preach over his Liquor.

_Sir John._ I beg your Pardon; here’s your Lordship’s Health: I’d drink it up, if it were a Mile to the Bottom.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, have you been at the new Play?

_Neverout._ Yes, Madam; I went the first Night.

_Lady Smart._ Well; and how did it take?

_Neverout._ Why, Madam, the Poet is damn’d.

_Sir John._ God forgive you! that’s very uncharitable: you ought not to judge so rashly of any Christian.

_Neverout_ [_whispers Lady Smart._] Was ever such a Dunce? How well he knows the Town! see, how he stares like a Stuck-Pig! Well, but, Sir _John_, are you acquainted with any of our fine Ladies yet? any of our famous Toasts?

_Sir John._ No; damn your Fireships, I have a Wife of my own.

_Lady Smart._ Pray, my Lady _Answerall_, how do you like these preserv’d Oranges?

_Lady Answ._ Indeed, Madam, the only Fault I find is, that they are too good.