Ld. Smart. What have you to say to that, colonel?
Neverout. O my lord, my friend the colonel scorns to set his wit against a child.
Miss. Scornful dogs will eat dirty puddings.
Col. Well, miss; they say, a woman's tongue is the last thing about her that dies; therefore let's kiss and be friends.
Miss. Hands off! that's meat for your master.
Ld. Sparkish. Faith, colonel, you are for ale and cakes: but after all, miss, you are too severe; you would not meddle with your match.
Miss. All they can say, goes in at one ear and out at t'other for me, I can assure you: only I wish they would be quiet, and let me drink my tea.
Neverout. What! I warrant you think all is lost that goes beside your own mouth.
Miss. Pray, Mr. Neverout, hold your tongue for once, if it be possible; one would think you were a woman in man's clothes by your prating.
Neverout. No, miss; it is not handsome to see one hold one's tongue: besides, I should slobber my fingers.
Col. Miss, did you never hear, that three women and a goose are enough to make a market?
Miss. I'm sure, if Mr. Neverout or you were among them, it would make a fair.
Footman comes in.
Lady Smart. Here, take away the tea-table, and bring up candles.
Lady Answ. O madam, no candles yet, I beseech you; don't let us burn daylight.
Neverout. I dare swear, miss for her part will never burn daylight, if she can help it.
