Miss. No, to be sure; I’ll tell it to nobody but Friends and Strangers.
Neverout. Why, then, there’s some Dirt in my Tea-cup.
Miss. Come, come; the more there’s in’t, the more there’s on’t.
Lady Answ. Poh! you must eat a Peck of Dirt before you die.
Col. Ay, ay; it goes all one way.
Neverout. Pray, Miss, What’s a Clock?
Miss. Why, you must know, ’tis a Thing like a Bell; and you are a Fool that can’t tell.
Neverout. [to Lady Answ.] Pray, Madam, do you tell me; for I have let my Watch run down.
Lady Answ. Why, ’tis half an Hour past Hanging-time.
Col. Well; I am like the Butcher, that was looking for his Knife, and had it in his Mouth: I have been searching my Pockets for my Snuff-box, and, egad, here ’tis in my Hand.