Miss. Indeed, your Ladyship could have stirr’d it much better.
Lady Answ. I know that very well, Hussy; but I won’t keep a Dog, and bark myself.
Neverout. What! you are sick, Miss.
Miss. Not at all; for her Ladyship meant you.
Neverout. Oh! faith, Miss, you are in Lob’s-pound; get out as you can.
Miss. I won’t quarrel with my Bread and Butter for all that: I know when I’m well.
Lady Answ. Well; but Miss——
Neverout. Ah! dear Madam, let the Matter fall; take Pity on poor Miss; don’t throw Water on a drownded Rat.
Miss. Indeed, Mr. Neverout, you should be cut for the Simples this Morning: Say a Word more, and you had as good eat your Nails.
Ld. Sparkish. Pray, Miss, will you be so good as to favour us with a Song?