Lady Head. We have had a sad piece of work on't, Sir Francis, overturn'd in the channel, as we were going to the playhouse.
Miss Betty. Over and over, papa; had it been coming from the playhouse, I shou'd not have car'd a farthing.
Sir Fran. But, child, you are hurt, your face is all bloody.
Miss Betty. O, Sir, my new gown is all dirty.
Lady Head. The new coach is all spoil'd.
Miss Betty. The glasses are all to bits.
Lady Head. Roger has put out his arm.
Miss Betty. Would he had put out his neck, for making us lose the play.
Squire Humph. Poor Martilla has scratch'd her little finger.
Lady Head. And here's the poor Colonel; nobody asks what he has done. I hope, Sir, you have got no harm?