Polite Conversation in Three Dialogues

by Jonathan Swift

Ld. Smart. Well, but, after all, Tom, can you tell me what’s Latin for a Goose.

Neverout. O my Lord, I know that; why Brandy is Latin for a Goose, and Tace is Latin for a Candle.

Miss. Is that Manners, to shew your Learning before Ladies? Methinks you are grown very brisk of a sudden; I think the Man’s glad he’s alive.

Sir John. The Devil take your Wit, if this be Wit; for it spoils Company: Pray, Mr. Butler, bring me a Dram after my Goose; ’tis very good for the Wholsoms.

Ld. Smart. Come, bring me the Loaf; I sometimes love to cut my own Bread.

Miss. I suppose, my Lord, you lay longest a Bed To-day.

Ld. Smart. Miss, if I had said so, I should have told a Fib; I warrant you lay a Bed till the Cows came Home: But, Miss, shall I cut you a little Crust now my Hand is in?

Miss. If you please, my Lord, a Bit of Under-crust.

Neverout. [whispering Miss.] I find, you love to lie under.