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. O! madam; after you is good manners.
Lady Smart. Lord! here's a hair in the sauce.
Lady 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, cheer 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 skewer on a plate.] Here, take this skewer, 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 buried.
Col. This is admirable black pudding; miss, shall I carve you some? I can just carve pudding, 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 pudding will dream of the devil.
Ld. Smart. O, here comes the venison pasty: here, take the soup away.
