Lady Smart. Why, he’s a Concealer of the Law; you must know, he came to us as drunk as David’s Sow.
Miss. What kind of Creature is he?
Lady Smart. You must know, the Man and his Wife are coupled like Rabbets, a fat and a lean; he’s as fat as a Porpus, and she’s one of Pharaoh’s lean Kine: The Ladies and Tom Gosling were proposing a Party at Quadrille, but he refus’d to make one: Damn your Cards, said he, they are the Devil’s Books.
Lady Answ. A dull unmannerly Brute! Well, God send him more Wit, and me more Money.
Miss. Lord! Madam, I would not keep such Company for the World.
Lady Smart. O Miss, ’tis nothing when you are used to it: Besides, you know, for Want of Company, welcome Trumpery.
Miss. Did your Ladyship play?
Lady Smart. Yes, and won; so I came off with Fidlers Fare, Meat, Drink, and Money.
Lady Answ. Ay; what says Pluck?