Sir John. What! are you at it? Why, then, I’ll be gone.
Lady Smart. Sir John, I beg you will sit down: Come, the more the merrier.
Sir John. Ay; but the fewer the better Cheer.
Lady Smart. Well, I am the worst in the World at making Apologies; it was my Lord’s Fault: I doubt you must kiss the Hare’s Foot.
Sir John. I see you are fast by the Teeth.
Col. Faith, Sir John, we are killing that, that would kill us.
Ld. Sparkish. You see, Sir John, we are upon a Business of Life and Death: Come, will you do as we do? You are come in Pudden-Time.
Sir John. Ay; this would you be doing if I were dead. What! you keep Court-Hours I see: I’ll be going, and get a Bit of Meat at my Inn.
Lady Smart. Why, we won’t eat you, Sir John.
Sir John. It is my own Fault; but I was kept by a Fellow who bought some Derbyshire Oxen from me.