Lady Answ. Madam, I was t' other day in company with Mrs. Clatter; I find she gives herself airs of being acquainted with your ladyship.
Miss. O! the hideous creature! did you observe her nails? they were long enough to scratch her grannum out of her grave.
Lady Smart. Well, she and Tom Gosling were banging compliments backward and forward: it look'd like two asses scrubbing one another.
Miss. Ay, claw me, and I'll claw you; but, pray, madam, who were the company?
Lady Smart. Why there was all the world, and his wife; there was Mrs. Clatter, lady Singular, the countess of Talkham (I should have named her first), Tom Gosling, and some others, whom I have forgot.
Lady Answ. I think the countess is very sickly.
Lady Smart. Yes madam; she'll never scratch a gray head, I promise her.
Miss. And, pray, what was your conversation?
Lady Smart. Why, Mrs. Clatter had all the talk to herself, and was perpetually complaining of her misfortunes.
Lady Answ. She brought her husband ten thousand pounds: she has a town house and country house: would the woman have her a— hung with points?
Lady Smart. She would fain be at the top of the house before the stairs are built.
Miss. Well, comparisons are odious; but she's as like her husband as if she were spit out of his mouth; as like as one egg is to another: pray, how was she drest?
Lady Smart. Why, she was as fine as fi'pence;
