Here, Jack, I laid out for a compliment, and missed it.
'Tis easy to guess, Sir; for there cannot be two such gentlemen as you.
Well said, dame Smith—but mean you good or bad?—Handsome was the least I thought she would have said.
I leave you to guess, Sir.
Condemned, thought I, by myself, on this appeal.
Why, father Smith, thy wife is a wit, man!—Didst thou ever find that out before?—But where is widow Lovick, dame Smith? My cousin John Belford says she is a very good woman. Is she within? or is she gone with Miss Harlowe too?
She will be within by-and-by, Sir. She is not with the lady.
Well, but my good dear Mrs. Smith, where is the lady gone? and when will she return?
I can't tell, Sir.
Don't tell fibs, dame Smith; don't tell fibs, chucking her under the chin: which made John's upper-lip, with chin shortened, rise to his nose. —I am sure you know!—But here's another pair of stairs: let us see: Who lives up there?—but hold, here's another room locked up, tapping at the door—Who's at home? cried I.