Miss. Alack-a-day, Colonel! I vow I had rather have found Forty Shillings.
Neverout. Why, Colonel; all that I can say to comfort you, is, that you must mend it with a new one.
[Miss laughs.
Col. What, Miss! you can’t laugh, but you must shew your Teeth.
Miss. I’m sure you shew your Teeth when you can’t bite: Well, thus it must be, if we sell Ale.
Neverout. Miss, you smell very sweet; I hope you don’t carry Perfumes.
Miss. Perfumes! No, Sir; I’d have you to know, it is nothing but the Grain of my Skin.
Col. Tom, you have a good Nose to make a poor Man’s Sow.
Ld. Sparkish. So, Ladies and Gentlemen, methinks you are very witty upon one another: Come, box it about; ’twill come to my Father at last.
Col. Why, my Lord, you see Miss has no Mercy; I wish she were marry’d; but I doubt, the grey Mare would prove the better Horse.