Miss [screaming.] Well, Mr. Neverout, if I live, that shall neither go to Heaven nor Hell with you.
Neverout [takes Miss’s Hand.] Come, Miss; let us lay all Quarrels aside, and be Friends.
Miss. Don’t be so teizing! You plague a body so!——Can’t you keep your filthy Hands to yourself?
Neverout. Pray, Miss, where did you get that Pick-Tooth Case?
Miss. I came honestly by it.
Neverout. I’m sure it was mine, for I lost just such a one; nay, I don’t tell you a Lye.
Miss. No; if You lye, it is much.
Neverout. Well; I’m sure ’tis mine.
Miss. What! you think every Thing is yours, but a little the King has.