"He does n't know whether I have or not, does he, Mistress Bessie?"
"Of course he does n't," chimed in the girl, coquettishly. "We don't have to tell him all our little frolics, do we?"
"I 'd hate to if I hoped to retain his friendship," chuckled the wit. "It is like confident youth to imagine itself ever the only favored."
"Look here," said Moore, aggressively, "there will be enough of this supper, such as it is, to go around handsomely without trying to spoil my appetite with your base innuendoes, you old scandal-school maker."
"He is jealous," observed Sheridan. "Just have the kindness to remember my age, Thomas."
"How can I when you yourself do not?" asked the poet, slyly. "Brummell, pass the butter. If it's stronger than you are, shout for help."
"You wrong the article," said the Beau, handing over the desired plate. "It's quiescence is most amiable."
"That reminds me," Moore remarked thoughtfully, "of a scheme I have for increasing the volume of the milk given by the cow."
"Volume?" repeated Sheridan. "D' ye mean the way the tale is presented to the public?"
"Well, if you let the bovine offspring remain too adjacent it's bound in calf the lacteal fluid would be," replied Moore.