[Miss searching her Pockets for her Thimble, brings out a Nutmeg.
Neverout. Oh! Miss, have a Care; for if you carry a Nutmeg in your Pocket, you’ll certainly be marry’d to an old Man.
Miss. Well, and if ever I be marry’d, it shall be to an old Man; they always make the best Husbands; and it is better to be an old Man’s Darling than a young Man’s Warling.
Neverout. Faith, Miss, if you speak as you think, I’ll give you my Mother for a Maid.
[Lady Smart rings the Bell. Footman comes in.
Lady Smart. Harkee, you Fellow; run to my Lady Match, and desire she will remember to be here at Six, to play at Quadrille: D’ye hear, if you fall by the Way, don’t stay to get up again.
Footman. Madam, I don’t know the House.
Lady Smart. Well, that’s not for Want of Ignorance; follow your Nose; go, enquire among the Servants.
[Footman goes out, and leaves the Door open.