Ld. Smart. Ay, Colonel; ’tis a pity that fair Weather should ever do any Harm. [To Neverout.] Why, Tom, you are high in the Mode.
Neverout. My Lord, it is better be out of the World, than out of the Fashion.
Ld. Smart. But, Tom, I hear, You and Miss are always quarrelling; I fear, it is your Fault; for I can assure you, she is very good-humour’d.
Neverout. Ay, my Lord; so is the Devil when he’s pleas’d.
Ld. Smart. Miss, what do you think of my Friend Tom?
Miss. My Lord, I think, he’s not the wisest Man in the World; and truly, he’s sometimes very rude.
Ld. Sparkish. That may be true; but, yet, he that hangs Tom for a Fool, may find a Knave in the Halter.
Miss. Well, however, I wish he were hang’d, if it were only to try.
Neverout. Well, Miss, if I must be hang’d, I won’t go far to chuse my Gallows; it shall be about your fair Neck.
Miss. I’ll see your Nose Cheese first, and the Dogs eating it: But, my Lord, Mr. Neverout’s Wit begins to run low, for I vow, he said this before: Pray, Colonel, give him a Pinch, and I’ll do as much for you.