Miss. Mr. Neverout!
Neverout. Hay, Madam, did you call me?
Miss. Hay; why, Hay is for Horses.
Neverout. Why, Miss, then you may kiss——
Col. Pray, my Lord, what’s a Clock by your Oracle?
Ld. Sparkish. Faith, I can’t tell, I think my Watch runs upon Wheels.
Neverout. Miss, pray be so kind to call a Servant to bring me a Glass of Small Beer: I know you are at Home here.
Miss. Every Fool can do as they’re bid: Make a Page of your own Age, and do it yourself.
Neverout. Chuse, proud Fool; I did but ask you.
[Miss puts her Hand to her Knee.