Col. Well, if you go To-day, I wish you may be wet to the Skin.
Sir John. Ay; but they say, the Prayers of the Wicked won’t prevail.
[Sir John takes Leave, and goes away.
Ld. Smart. Well, Miss, how do you like Sir John?
Miss. Why, I think, he’s a little upon the silly, or so: I believe, he has not all the Wit in the World; but I don’t pretend to be a Judge.
Neverout. Faith, I believe, he was bred at Hogs-Norton, where the Pigs play upon the Organs.
Ld. Sparkish. Why, Tom, I thought You and He were Hand and Glove.
Neverout. Faith, he shall have a clean Threshold for me; I never darkned his Door in my Life, neither in Town nor Country; but he’s a quere old Duke by my Conscience; and yet, after all, I take him to be more Knave than Fool.
Lady Smart. Well, come; a Man’s a Man, if he has but a Nose on his Head.