Sir J. B. Damn your Whirligig!
Miss Dolly B. Oh, lord, father! how can you damn his Whirligig?
Tall. Come, fifty pounds here—down with your dust!
Miss Dolly B. Ay, papa, down with your dust!
Sir J. B. You hussy! I'll dust your gown for you!
Tall. Why, didn't you lay?
Sir J. B. Lay! I remember, I said, I thought the brown horse run the fastest.
Tall. Yes, but when I laid fifty he'd lose, didn't you say done?
Sir J. B. And so you come the dun upon me—pho, pho! none of your jokes, man.
Tall. Jokes! you shall pay me in earnest.