Miss. Pox on your Picture; it cost me a Groat the drawing.
Neverout. [to Lady Smart.] ’Sbuds, Madam, I have burnt my Hand with your plaguy Tea-kettle.
Lady Smart. Why, then, Mr. Neverout, you must say, God save the King.
Neverout. Did you ever see the like?
Miss. Never, but once, at a Wedding.
Col. Pray, Miss, how old are you?
Miss. Why, I’m as old as my Tongue, and a little older than my Teeth.
Ld. Sparkish. [to Lady Ans.] Pray, Madam, is Miss Buxom married? I hear, ’tis all over the Town.
Lady Answ. My Lord, she’s either married, or worse.
Col. If she ben’t marry’d, at least she’s lustily promis’d. But, is it certain, that Sir John Blunderbuss is dead at last?