Lady Smart. Well, and isn’t it pure good?
Col. ’Tis better than a worse.
[——Footman brings the Colonel a Letter.——
Lady Answ. I suppose, Colonel, that’s a Billet-doux from your Mistress.
Col. Egad, I don’t know whence it comes; but whoe’er writ it, writes a Hand like a Foot.
Miss. Well, you may make a Secret of it, but we can spell, and put together.
Neverout. Miss, What spells B double Uzzard?
Miss. Buzzard in your Teeth, Mr. Neverout.
Lady Smart. Now you are up, Mr. Neverout, Will you do me the Favour, to do me the Kindness, to take off the Tea-kettle?
Ld. Sparkish. I wonder what makes these Bells ring.