Ld. Smart. Why, Colonel, you don’t mean to eat all that Soupe?
Col. O my Lord, this is my sick Dish; when I am well, I’ll have a bigger.
Miss [to Col.] Sup, Simon; very good Broth.
Neverout. This seems to be a good Pullet.
Miss. I warrant, Mr. Neverout knows what’s good for himself.
Ld. Sparkish. Tom, I shan’t take your Word for it; help me to a Wing.
[Neverout tryes to cut off a Wing.
Neverout. Egad I can’t hit the Joint.
Ld. Sparkish. Why, then, think of a Cuckold.