Lady Smart. Hey! what a Clattering is here; one would think, Hell was broke loose.
Miss. Indeed, Madam, I must take my Leave, for I a’n’t well.
Lady Smart. What! you are sick of the Mulligrubs, with eating chopt Hay.
Miss. No, indeed, Madam; I’m sick and hungry, more need of a Cook than a Doctor.
Lady Answ. Poor Miss, she’s sick as a Cushion, she wants nothing but stuffing.
Col. If you are sick, you shall have a Caudle of Calf’s Eggs.
Neverout. I can’t find my Gloves.
Miss. I saw the Dog running away with some dirty thing awhile ago.
Col. Miss, you have got my Handkerchief; pray, let me have it.