[Colonel takes them out with his Hand.
Col. Here, Miss; they say, Fingers were made before Forks, and Hands before Knives.
Lady Smart. Methinks this Pudden is too much boil’d.
Ld. Answ. Oh! Madam, they say, a Pudden is Poison when it’s too much boil’d.
Neverout. Miss, shall I help you to a Pigeon? Here’s a Pigeon so finely roasted, it cries, Come eat me.
Miss. No, Sir; I thank you.
Neverout. Why, then you may chuse.
Miss. I have chosen already.
Neverout. Well, you may be worse offer’d, before you are twice marry’d.
[The Colonel fills a large Plate of Soupe.