Col. [to Ld. Sparkish.] But, my lord, I forgot to ask you, how you like my new clothes?
Ld. Sparkish. Why, very well, colonel; only, to deal plainly with you, methinks the worst piece is in the middle.
Col. My lord, you are too severe on your friends.
Miss. Mr. Neverout, I'm hot, are you a sot?
Neverout. Miss, I'm cold, are you a scold? take you that.
Lady Smart. I confess that was home. I find, Mr. Neverout, you won't give your head for the washing, as they say.
Miss. O! he's a sore man where the skin's off. I see Mr. Neverout has a mind to sharpen the edge of his wit on the whetstone of my ignorance.
Ld. Sparkish. Faith, Tom, you are struck! I never heard a better thing.
Neverout. Pray, miss, give me leave to scratch you for that fine speech.
Miss. Pox on your picture, it cost me a groat the drawing.
Neverout [to lady Smart.] 'Sbuds, madam, I have burnt my hand with your plaguy teakettle.
Lady Smart. Why, then, Mr. Neverout, you must say, God save the king.
Neverout. Did you ever see the like?
Miss. Never but once, at a wedding.
Col. Pray, miss, how old are you?
Miss. Why, I'm as old as my tongue, and a little older than my teeth.
Ld. Sparkish. [to lady Answ.] Pray, madam, is miss Buxom married? I hear 'tis all over the town.
Lady Answ. My lord, she's either married, or worse.
