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Chiswick Press Editions

POLITE CONVERSATION

    ⁂ _This Edition is limited to Five Hundred copies, viz.:_

     _50 on Japanese Vellum, numbered 1 to 50._
    _450 on Handmade paper, numbered 51 to 500._

    _This is No. 438._




[Illustration: IONATHAN SWIFT S. T. D.

_Decanus Ecclesia Cathedralis Sancti Patricy DUBLIN._

_Carolus Jervacius Pictor Reg. Pinxit._ _Geo. Vertue Londini Sculpsit_]




                           POLITE CONVERSATION
                          IN THREE DIALOGUES BY
                    JONATHAN SWIFT WITH INTRODUCTION
                                AND NOTES
                          BY GEORGE SAINTSBURY

                             [Illustration]

                      LONDON PRINTED AND ISSUED BY
                       CHARLES WHITTINGHAM & CO AT
                      THE CHISWICK PRESS MDCCCXCII




CONTENTS.


                                  PAGE

    EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION          vii

    INTRODUCTION TO THE DIALOGUES    3

    DIALOGUE I.                     53

    DIALOGUE II.                   127

    DIALOGUE III.                  173

    ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES             191




EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION.


In some ways nothing could be a better introduction to the “Polite
Conversation” than the account of it which Mr. Thackeray has given in
his “English Humourists” (though under the head of Steele, not Swift),
as illustrating the society of the period. That account is in its way
not much less of a classic than the immortal original itself, and it is
purely delightful. But it neither deals nor pretends to deal with the
whole of the subject. Indeed, the idea of Swift’s character which the
“Conversation” gives does not square altogether well with the view—true,
but one-sided—which it suited Mr. Thackeray to take of Swift.

The “Conversation” appeared very late in Swift’s life, and he himself
derived no pecuniary benefit from it. He had, with that almost careless
generosity which distinguished him side by side with an odd kind
of parsimony, given the manuscript to a not particularly reputable
_protégée_ of his, Mrs. Barber, about 1736, and its first edition—a copy
of which, presented to me by my friend Mr. Austin Dobson no small number
of years ago, is here reproduced—bears date 1738, and was published
in London by Motte and Bathurst. The composition, however, dates, as
is known to a practical certainty, many years earlier. It is beyond
any reasonable doubt identical with the “Essay on Conversation” which
Swift noted as written or planned in 1708-10. The _nom de guerre_ on
the title-page and to the introduction is Simon Wagstaff, one of the
literary family of Staffs fathered by Swift and Steele in “Tatler” times.
The manners are evidently those of Queen Anne’s day, and the whole
chronology of the introduction (which, it will be seen, has all Swift’s
mock carefulness and exactitude) is adjusted to the first decade of the
eighteenth century. A hundred years later Scott (whose own evident relish
for the “Conversation” struggled somewhat with a desire to apologise
for its coarseness to the decencies even of his own day), hazarded the
opinion that the abundance of proverbial expressions must be set down to
the Dean’s own fancy, not to actual truth of reporting. It is always with
great diffidence that I venture to differ with Sir Walter; but I think
he was wrong here. One piece of indirect evidence—the extreme energy
with which Chesterfield, at no very distant date from the publication,
but after a lapse of fully a generation from the probable composition
of the dialogues, inveighs against this very practice—would seem to be
sufficient to establish its authenticity. For polite society, where its
principles are not, as they generally are, pretty constant, is never
so bitter as against those practices which were the mode and are now
_démodés_.

But if anyone thinks this argument paradoxical, there are plenty more.
The conversation of the immortal eight corresponds exactly to that of the
comedies of the time, and the times just earlier, which were written by
the finest gentlemen. It meets us, of course less brilliantly put, in the
“Wentworth Papers” and other documents of the time; and its very faults
are exactly those which Steele and Addison, like their predecessors of
the other sex in the Hotel Rambouillet sixty or seventy years earlier,
were, just when these dialogues were written, setting themselves to
correct. We know, of course, that Swift moved in a world of middle and
even not always upper middle class society, as well as in the great
world; and that, perhaps, at the date of the actual composition of this
piece, he had not reached his fullest familiarity with the latter. But
I have myself very little doubt that the dialogues express and were
fully justified by the conversation he had actually heard among the less
decorous visitors at Temple’s solemn board, in the livelier household
of Lord Berkeley, in the circles of Ormond and Pembroke, and during his
first initiation after 1707 in London society proper. How far he may have
subsequently polished and altered the thing it is impossible to say; that
he had done so to some extent is obvious from such simple matters as the
use of the word “king” instead of “queen,” from the allusions to the
“Craftsman,” and others. I doubt whether the picture became substantially
false till far into the reign of George II., if it even became so then.

There are those, of whom, as Mr. Wagstaff would himself say, “I have the
honour to be one,” who put the “Polite Conversation” in the very front
rank of Swift’s works. It is of course on a far less ambitious scale
than “Gulliver;” it has not the youthful audacity and towering aim of
the “Tale of a Tub;” it lacks the practical and businesslike cogency
of the “Drapier;” the absolute perfection and unrivalled irony of the
“Modest Proposal” and the “Argument against abolishing Christianity.”
But what it wants in relation to each of these masterpieces in some
respects it makes up in others; and it is distinctly the superior of its
own nearest analogue, the “Directions to Servants.” It is never unequal;
it never flags; it never forces the note. Nobody, if he likes it at all,
can think it too long; nobody, however much he may like it, can fail to
see that Swift was wise not to make it longer. One of its charms is the
complete variation between the introduction and the dialogues themselves.
The former follows throughout, even to the rather unnecessary striking
in with literary quarrels, the true vein of Swiftian irony, where
almost every sentence expresses the exact contrary of the author’s real
sentiments, and where the putative writer is made to exhibit himself
as ridiculous while discoursing to his own complete satisfaction. It
exhibits also, although in a minor key, the peculiar pessimism which
excites the shudders of some and the admiration of others in the great
satires on humanity enumerated above.

But the dialogues themselves are quite different. They are, with
the exception of the lighter passages in the “Journal to Stella,”
infinitely the most good-natured things in Swift. The characters are
scarcely satirized; they are hardly caricatured. Not one of them is made
disagreeable, not one of them offensively ridiculous. Even poor Sir John
Linger, despite the scarce concealed scorn and pity of his companions
and the solemn compassion of good Mr. Wagstaff, is let off very easily.
The very “scandal-mongering” has nothing of the ferocity of the “Plain
Dealer” long before, and the “School for Scandal” long after it; the
excellent Ladies Smart and Answerall tear their neighbours’ characters
to pieces with much relish but with no malignity. The former, for all
her cut-and-dried phrases, is an excellently hospitable hostess, and
“her own lord” is as different as possible from the brutal heroes of
Restoration comedy, and from the yawning sour-blooded rakes of quality
whom a later generation of painters in words and colours were to portray.
There is, of course, not a little which would now be horribly coarse,
but one knows that it was not in the least so then. And in it, as in
the scandal-mongering, there is no bad blood. Tom and the Colonel and
Lord Sparkish are fine gentlemen with very loose-hung tongues, and not
very strait-laced consciences. But there is nothing about them of the
inhumanity which to some tastes spoils the heroes of Congreve and of
Vanbrugh.

As for “Miss,” no doubt she says some things which it would be unpleasant
to hear one’s sister or one’s beloved say now. But I fell in love with
her when I was about seventeen, I think; and from that day to this I
have never wavered for one minute in my affection for her. If she is of
coarser mould than Millamant, how infinitely does she excel her in flesh
and blood—excellent things in woman! She is only here—“this ‘Miss’ of our
heart, this ‘Miss’ of our soul,”—here and in a letter or two of the time.
The dramatists and the essayists and the poets made her a baggage or a
Lydia Languish, a Miss Hoyden or a minx, when they tried her. Hogarth
was not enough of a gentleman and Kneller not enough of a genius to put
her on canvas. When the regular novelists began, sensibility had set its
clutch on heroines. But here she is as Swift saw her—Swift whom every
woman whom he knew either loved or hated, and who must, therefore, have
known something about women, for all his persistent maltreatment of them.
And here, as I have said, the maltreatment ceases. If the handling is
not very delicate, it is utterly true, and by no means degrading. There
is even dignity in Miss. For all her romps, and her broad speeches,
and her more than risky repartees, she knows perfectly well how to pull
up her somewhat unpolished admirers when they go too far. And when at
three o’clock in the morning, with most of the winnings in her pocket,
she demurely refuses the Colonel’s escort (indeed it might have had its
dangers), observing, “No, Colonel, thank you; my mamma has sent her chair
and footmen,” and leaves the room with the curtsey we can imagine, the
picture is so delightful that unholy dreams come upon one. How agreeable
it would have been to hire the always available villains, overcome those
footmen, put Miss in a coach and six, and secure the services of the also
always available parson, regardless of the feelings of my mamma and of
the swords of Tom and the Colonel, though not of Miss’s own goodwill!
For I should not envy anyone who had tried to play otherwise than on the
square with Miss Notable.

For Mr. Wagstaff’s hero I have, as no doubt is natural, by no means as
much admiration as for his “heroin.” Mr. Thomas Neverout is a lively
youth enough, but considerably farther from the idea—and that not merely
the modern idea—of a gentleman, than Miss with all her astounding licence
of speech is from the idea—and that not merely the modern idea—of a lady.
It is observable that he seldom or never gets the better of her except by
mere coarseness, and that he has too frequent recourse to the expedient
which even Mr. Wagstaff had the sense to see was not a great evidence of
wit, the use of some innuendo or other, at which she is obliged to blush
or to pretend want of understanding. At fair weapons she almost always
puts him down. In fact, the Colonel, though not precisely a genius, is
the better fellow of the two. I do not know whether it was intentional
or not, but it is to be observed that my Lord Sparkish, though quite
as “smart” in the new-old sense of which this very work is the _locus
classicus_, as the two commoners, is cleaner by a good deal in his
language. It is unlike Mr. Wagstaff’s usual precision of information that
he gives us no details about Lady Answerall. If there is any indication
to show whether she was wife or widow, I have missed it in many readings;
but I think she, though still young, was the eldest of the three ladies,
and she certainly was handsome. Lady Smart I take to have been plain,
from her disparaging reference to Miss: “The girl’s well enough if she
had but another nose.” I resent this reference to a feature which I am
sure was charming (it was probably _retroussé_; it was certainly not
aquiline); and as Lady Smart was clearly not ill-natured, it follows that
she must have been herself either a recognized beauty or not beautiful.
We should have had some intimation of the former had it been the case, so
I incline to the latter. She had children, and was evidently on the best
of terms with her husband, which is very satisfactory.

If it were not for Miss and the dinner—two objects of perennial interest
to all men of spirit and taste—I am not sure that I should not prefer the
introduction to the conversations themselves. It is indispensable to the
due understanding of the latter, and I cannot but think that Thackeray
unjustifiably overlooked the excuse it contains for the somewhat
miscellaneous and Gargantuan character of the feast which excited his
astonishment and horror. But it would be delightful in itself if we were
so unfortunate as to have lost the conversations, and, as I have already
said, its delight is of a strangely different kind from theirs. Although
there are more magnificent and more terrible, more poignant and more
whimsical examples of the marvellous Swiftian irony, I do not know that
there is any more justly proportioned, more exquisitely modulated, more
illustrative of that wonderful keeping which is the very essence and
quiddity of the Dean’s humour.

Some things have been lately said, as they are always said from time
to time, about the contrast between the Old humour and the New. The
contrast, I venture to think, is wrongly stated. It is not a contrast
between the old and the new, but, in the first place, between the
perennial and the temporary, and in the second between two kinds of
humour which, to do them justice, are both perennial enough—the humour
which is quiet, subtle, abstracted, independent of catchwords and cant
phrases, and the humour which is broad, loud, gesticulative, and prone to
rely upon cant phrases and catchwords. Swift has illustrated the two in
the two parts of this astonishing book, and whoso looks into the matter
a little narrowly will have no difficulty in finding this out. Far be it
from me to depreciate the “newer” kind, but I may be permitted to think
it the lower. It is certainly the easier. The perpetual stream of irony
which Swift pours out here in so quiet yet so steady a flow, is the most
difficult of all things to maintain in its perfection. Not more, perhaps,
than half-a-dozen writers in all literature, of whom the three chiefs are
Lucian, Pascal, and Swift himself, have been quite masters of it, and of
these three Swift is the mightiest. Sink below the requisite proportion
of bitterness and the thing becomes flat; exceed that proportion and it
is nauseous. Perhaps, as one is always fain to persuade oneself in such
cases, a distinct quality of palate is required to taste, as well as a
distinct power of genius to brew it. It is certain that though there
are some in all times who relish this kind of humour (and this is what
gives it its supremacy, for examples of the other kind are, at other
than their own times, frequently not relished by anybody), they are not
often found in large numbers. The liquor is too dry for many tastes; it
has too little froth, if not too little sparkle for others. The order of
architecture is too unadorned, depends too much upon the bare attraction
of symmetry and form, to charm some eyes. But those who have the taste
never lose it, never change it, never are weary of gratifying it. Of
irony, as of hardly any other thing under the sun, cometh no satiety to
the born ironist.

It may be well to end this brief preface by a few words on the principles
of editing which I have adopted. There is no omission whatever, except
of a very few words—not, I think, half a score in all—which were barely
permissible to mouths polite even then, and which now are almost banished
from even free conversation. Nor have even these omissions been allowed
to mutilate the passages in which they occur; for on Mr. Wagstaff’s own
excellent principle, the harmless necessary “blank, which the sagacious
reader may fill up in his own mind,” has replaced them.

In respect of annotation the methods of the collection in which this book
appears did not permit of any very extensive commentary; and I could
not be sorry for this. Anything like full _scholia_ on the proverbs,
catchwords, and so forth used, would be enormously voluminous, and a very
dull overlaying of matter ill-sortable with dulness. Besides, much of
the phraseology is intelligible to anybody intelligent, and not a very
little is not yet obsolete in the mouths of persons of no particular
originality. You may still hear men and women, not necessarily destitute
either of birth, breeding, or sense, say of such a thing that “they like
it, but it does not like them,” that such another thing “comes from a hot
place,” with other innocent _clichés_ of the kind. But in some places
where assistance seemed really required I have endeavoured to give it.
Among such cases I have not included the attempt to identify “the D. of
R.,” “the E. of E.,” “Lord and Lady H.,” etc. I am afraid it would be
falling too much into the humour of good Mr. Wagstaff himself to examine
with the help of much Collins the various persons whose initials and
titles might possibly correspond with these during the nearly sixty years
between Mr. Wagstaff’s coming of age and the appearance of his work at
the Middle Temple Gate in Fleet Street. The persons named at full length
are generally, if not universally real, and more or less well known.
Enough to inform or remind the reader of these has, I hope, been inserted
in the Notes. But the fact is, that, like most great writers, though not
all, Swift is really not in need of much annotation. It is not that he
is not allusive—I hardly know any great writer who is not—but that his
allusions explain themselves to a reader of average intelligence quite
sufficiently for the understanding of the context, though not, it may be,
sufficiently to enable him to “satisfy the examiners.” It does not, for
instance, matter in the least whether the “infamous Court chaplain,” who
taught the maids of honour not to believe in Hell was Hoadley, or who he
was. His cap may even have fitted several persons at different times. In
such a display of literary skill at arms as this the glitter of the blade
and the swashing blow of its wielder are the points of interest, not the
worthless carrion into which it was originally thrust. But “worthless
carrion” is not Polite Conversation: so let me leave the reader to what
is.[1]

                                                       GEORGE SAINTSBURY.

[1] The piece is on the whole fairly well printed; but the speeches are
sometimes wrongly assigned. Attention is called to this in the notes; but
the real speaker is generally evident.




                               A COMPLETE

                               COLLECTION

                        Of GENTEEL and INGENIOUS

                              CONVERSATION,

                          According to the Most

                         Polite Mode and Method

                                Now USED

                        At COURT, and in the BEST

                          COMPANIES of ENGLAND.

                           In THREE DIALOGUES.

                       By _SIMON WAGSTAFF_, Esq.;

                                _LONDON_:
                Printed for B. MOTTE, and C. BATHURST, at
               the _Middle Temple-Gate_ in _Fleet-Street_.
                             M.DCC.XXXVIII.




AN INTRODUCTION TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.


As my Life hath been chiefly spent in consulting the Honour and Welfare
of my Country for more than Forty Years past, not without answerable
Success, if the World and my Friends have not flattered me; so, there
is no Point wherein I have so much labour’d, as that of improving and
polishing all Parts of Conversation between Persons of Quality, whether
they meet by Accident or Invitation, at Meals, Tea, or Visits, Mornings,
Noons, or Evenings.

I have passed perhaps more time than any other Man of my Age and
Country in Visits and Assemblees, where the polite Persons of both
Sexes distinguish themselves; and could not without much Grief observe
how frequently both Gentlemen and Ladies are at a Loss for Questions,
Answers, Replies and Rejoinders: However, my Concern was much abated,
when I found that these Defects were not occasion’d by any Want of
Materials, but because those Materials were not in every Hand: For
Instance, One Lady can give an Answer better than ask a Question: One
Gentleman is happy at a Reply; another excels in a Rejoinder: One can
revive a languishing Conversation by a sudden surprizing Sentence;
another is more dextrous in seconding; a Third can fill the Gap with
laughing, or commending what hath been said: Thus fresh Hints may be
started, and the Ball of Discourse kept up.

But, alas! this is too seldom the Case, even in the most select
Companies: How often do we see at Court, at public Visiting-Days, at
great Men’s Levees, and other Places of general Meeting, that the
Conversation falls and drops to nothing, like a Fire without Supply of
Fuel; this is what we ought to lament; and against this dangerous Evil I
take upon me to affirm, that I have in the following Papers provided an
infallible Remedy.

It was in the Year 1695, and the Sixth of his late Majesty King
_William_, the Third, of ever glorious and immortal Memory, who rescued
Three Kingdoms from Popery and Slavery; when, being about the Age of
Six-and-thirty, my Judgment mature, of good Reputation in the World,
and well acquainted with the best Families in Town, I determined to
spend Five Mornings, to dine Four times, pass Three Afternoons, and Six
Evenings every Week, in the Houses of the most polite Families, of which
I would confine myself to Fifty; only changing as the Masters or Ladies
died, or left the Town, or grew out of Vogue, or sunk in their Fortunes,
(which to me was of the highest moment) or because disaffected to the
Government; which Practice I have followed ever since to this very Day;
except when I happened to be sick, or in the Spleen upon cloudy Weather;
and except when I entertained Four of each Sex at my own Lodgings once a
Month, by way of Retaliation.

I always kept a large Table-Book in my Pocket; and as soon as I left
the Company, I immediately entered the choicest Expressions that passed
during the Visit; which, returning Home, I transcribed in a fair Hand,
but somewhat enlarged; and had made the greatest Part of my Collection
in Twelve Years, but not digested into any Method; for this I found was
a Work of infinite Labour, and what required the nicest Judgment, and
consequently could not be brought to any Degree of Perfection in less
than Sixteen Years more.

Herein I resolved to exceed the Advice of _Horace_, a _Roman_ Poet,
(which I have read in Mr. _Creech_’s admirable Translation) That an
Author should keep his Works Nine Years in his Closet, before he ventured
to publish them; and finding that I still received some additional
Flowers of Wit and Language, although in a very small Number, I
determined to defer the Publication, to pursue my Design, and exhaust,
if possible, the whole Subject, that I might present a complete System
to the World: For, I am convinced by long Experience, that the Critics
will be as severe as their old Envy against me can make them: I foretel,
they will object, that I have inserted many Answers and Replies which are
neither witty, humorous, polite, or authentic; and have omitted others,
that would have been highly useful, as well as entertaining: But let them
come to Particulars, and I will boldly engage to confute their Malice.

For these last Six or Seven Years I have not been able to add above Nine
valuable Sentences to inrich my Collection; from whence I conclude,
that what remains will amount only to a Trifle: However, if, after the
Publication of this Work, any Lady or Gentleman, when they have read it,
shall find the least thing of Importance omitted, I desire they will
please to supply my Defects, by communicating to me their Discoveries;
and their Letters may be directed to SIMON WAGSTAFF, Esq; at his Lodgings
next Door to the _Gloucester-Head_ in _St. James’s-street_, (they paying
the Postage). In Return of which Favour, I shall make honourable Mention
of their Names in a short Preface to the Second Edition.

In the mean time, I cannot but with some Pride, and much Pleasure,
congratulate with my dear Country, which hath outdone all the Nations
of _Europe_ in advancing the whole Art of Conversation to the greatest
Height it is capable of reaching; and therefore being intirely convinced
that the Collection I now offer to the Public is full and complete, I may
at the same time boldly affirm, that the whole Genius, Humour, Politeness
and Eloquence of _England_ are summed up in it: Nor is the Treasure
small, wherein are to be found at least a Thousand shining Questions,
Answers, Repartees, Replies and Rejoinders, fitted to adorn every kind
of Discourse that an Assemblee of _English_ Ladies and Gentlemen, met
together for their mutual Entertainment, can possibly want, especially
when the several Flowers shall be set off and improved by the Speakers,
with every Circumstance of Preface and Circumlocution, in proper Terms;
and attended with Praise, Laughter, or Admiration.

There is a natural, involuntary Distortion of the Muscles, which is the
anatomical Cause of Laughter: But there is another Cause of Laughter
which Decency requires, and is the undoubted Mark of a good Taste, as
well as of a polite obliging Behaviour; neither is this to be acquired
without much Observation, long Practice, and a sound Judgment: I
did therefore once intend, for the Ease of the Learner, to set down
in all Parts of the following Dialogues certain Marks, Asterisks, or
_Nota-bene’s_ (in _English_, _Markwell’s_) after most Questions, and
every Reply or Answer; directing exactly the Moment when One, Two, or All
the Company are to laugh: But having duly considered, that the Expedient
would too much enlarge the Bulk of the Volume, and consequently the
Price; and likewise that something ought to be left for ingenious Readers
to find out, I have determined to leave that whole Affair, although of
great Importance, to their own Discretion.

The Readers must learn by all means to distinguish between Proverbs
and those polite Speeches which beautify Conversation: For, as to
the former, I utterly reject them out of all ingenious Discourse. I
acknowledge indeed, that there may possibly be found in this Treatise a
few Sayings, among so great a Number of smart Turns of Wit and Humour,
as I have produced, which have a proverbial Air: However, I hope, it
will be considered, that even these were not originally Proverbs, but
the genuine Productions of superior Wits, to embellish and support
Conversation; from whence, with great Impropriety, as well as Plagiarism
(if you will forgive a hard Word) they have most injuriously been
transferred into proverbial Maxims; and therefore in Justice ought to be
resumed out of vulgar Hands, to adorn the Drawing-Rooms of Princes, both
Male and Female, the Levees of great Ministers, as well as the Toilet and
Tea-table of the Ladies.

I can faithfully assure the Reader, that there is not one single witty
Phrase in this whole Collection, which hath not received the Stamp and
Approbation of at least one hundred Years, and how much longer, it is
hard to determine; he may therefore be secure to find them all genuine,
sterling, and authentic.

But before this elaborate Treatise can become of universal Use and
Ornament to my native Country, Two Points, that will require Time and
much Application, are absolutely necessary.

For, _First_, whatever Person would aspire to be completely witty, smart,
humourous, and polite, must by hard Labour be able to retain in his
Memory every single Sentence contained in this Work, so as never to be
once at a Loss in applying the right Answers, Questions, Repartees, and
the like, immediately, and without Study or Hesitation.

And, _Secondly_, after a Lady or Gentleman hath so well overcome this
Difficulty, as to be never at a Loss upon any Emergency, the true
Management of every Feature, and almost of every Limb, is equally
necessary; without which an infinite Number of Absurdities will
inevitably ensue: For Instance, there is hardly a polite Sentence in
the following Dialogues which doth not absolutely require some peculiar
graceful Motion in the Eyes, or Nose, or Mouth, or Forehead, or Chin,
or suitable Toss of the Head, with certain Offices assigned to each
Hand; and in Ladies, the whole Exercise of the Fan, fitted to the Energy
of every Word they deliver; by no means omitting the various Turns
and Cadence of the Voice, the Twistings, and Movements, and different
Postures of the Body, the several Kinds and Gradations of Laughter, which
the Ladies must daily practise by the Looking-Glass, and consult upon
them with their Waiting-Maids.

My Readers will soon observe what a great Compass of real and useful
Knowledge this Science includes; wherein, although Nature, assisted by
a Genius, may be very instrumental, yet a strong Memory and constant
Application, together with Example and Precept, will be highly necessary:
For these Reasons I have often wished, that certain Male and Female
Instructors, perfectly versed in this science, would set up Schools for
the Instruction of young Ladies and Gentlemen therein.

I remember about thirty Years ago, there was a _Bohemian_ Woman, of that
Species commonly known by the name of _Gypsies_, who came over hither
from _France_, and generally attended ISAAC the Dancing-Master when he
was teaching his Art to Misses of Quality; and while the young Ladies
were thus employed, the _Bohemian_, standing at some distance, but full
in their Sight, acted before them all proper Airs, and turnings of the
Head, and motions of the Hands, and twistings of the Body; whereof you
may still observe the good Effects in several of our elder Ladies.

After the same manner, it were much to be desired, that some expert
Gentlewomen gone to decay would set up publick Schools, wherein young
Girls of Quality, or great Fortunes, might first be taught to repeat this
following System of Conversation, which I have been at so much pains to
compile; and then to adapt every Feature of their Countenances, every
Turn of their Hands, every Screwing of their Bodies, every Exercise
of their Fans, to the Humour of the Sentences they hear or deliver in
Conversation. But above all to instruct them in every Species and Degree
of Laughing in the proper seasons at their own Wit, or that of the
Company. And, if the Sons of the Nobility and Gentry, instead of being
sent to common Schools, or put into the Hands of Tutors at Home, to learn
nothing but Words, were consigned to able Instructors in the same Art,
I cannot find what Use there could be of Books, except in the hands of
those who are to make Learning their Trade, which is below the Dignity of
Persons born to Titles or Estates.

It would be another infinite Advantage, that, by cultivating this
Science, we should wholly avoid the Vexations and Impertinence of
Pedants, who affect to talk in a Language not to be understood; and
whenever a polite Person offers accidentally to use any of their
Jargon-Terms, have the Presumption to laugh at Us for pronouncing those
Words in a genteeler Manner. Whereas, I do here affirm, that, whenever
any fine Gentleman or Lady condescends to let a hard Word pass out of
their Mouths, every syllable is smoothed and polished in the Passage; and
it is a true Mark of Politeness, both in Writing and Reading, to vary the
Orthography as well as the Sound; because We are infinitely better Judges
of what will please a distinguishing ear than those, who call themselves
_Scholars_, can possibly be; who, consequently, ought to correct their
Books, and Manner of pronouncing, by the Authority of Our Example, from
whose lips they proceed with infinitely more Beauty and Significancy.

But, in the mean time, until so great, so useful, and so necessary a
Design can be put in execution, (which, considering the good Disposition
of our Country at present, I shall not despair of living to see)
let me recommend the following Treatise to be carried about as a
Pocket-Companion, by all Gentlemen and Ladies, when they are going to
visit, or dine, or drink Tea; or where they happen to pass the Evening
without Cards, (as I have sometimes known it to be the Case upon
Disappointments or Accidents unforeseen) desiring they would read their
several Parts in their Chairs or Coaches, to prepare themselves for every
kind of Conversation that can possibly happen.

Although I have in Justice to my Country, allowed the Genius of our
People to excel that of any other Nation upon Earth, and have confirmed
this Truth by an Argument not to be controlled, I mean, by producing
so great a Number of witty Sentences in the ensuing Dialogues, all of
undoubted Authority, as well as of our own Production; yet, I must
confess at the same time, that we are wholly indebted for them to
our Ancestors; at least, for as long as my memory reacheth, I do not
recollect one new Phrase of Importance to have been added; which Defect
in Us Moderns I take to have been occasioned by the Introduction of
Cant-Words in the Reign of King _Charles_ the Second. And those have so
often varied, that hardly one of them, of above a Year’s standing, is now
intelligible; nor any where to be found, excepting a small Number strewed
here and there in the Comedies and other fantastick Writings of that Age.

The Honourable Colonel JAMES GRAHAM, my old Friend and Companion, did
likewise, towards the End of the same Reign, invent a Set of Words and
Phrases, which continued almost to the Time of his Death. But, as those
Terms of Art were adapted only to Courts and Politicians, and extended
little further than among his particular Acquaintance (of whom I had the
Honour to be one) they are now almost forgotten.

Nor did the late D. of _R——_ and E. of _E——_ succeed much better,
although they proceeded no further than single Words; whereof, except
_Bite_, _Bamboozle_, and one or two more, the whole Vocabulary is
antiquated.

The same Fate hath already attended those other Town-Wits, who furnish us
with a great Variety of new Terms, which are annually changed, and those
of the last Season sunk in Oblivion. Of these I was once favoured with a
compleat List by the Right Honourable the Lord and Lady _H——_, with which
I made a considerable Figure one Summer in the Country; but returning
up to Town in Winter, and venturing to produce them again, I was partly
hooted, and partly not understood.

The only Invention of late Years, which hath any way contributed towards
Politeness in Discourse, is that of abbreviating or reducing Words of
many Syllables into one, by lopping off the rest. This Refinement, having
begun about the Time of the _Revolution_, I had some Share in the Honour
of promoting it, and I observe, to my great Satisfaction, that it makes
daily Advancements, and I hope in Time will raise our Language to the
utmost Perfection; although, I must confess, to avoid Obscurity, I have
been very sparing of this Ornament in the following Dialogues.

But, as for Phrases, invented to cultivate Conversation, I defy all the
Clubs of Coffee-houses in this town to invent a new one equal in Wit,
Humour, Smartness, or Politeness, to the very worst of my Set; which
clearly shews, either that we are much degenerated, or that the whole
Stock of Materials hath been already employed. I would willingly hope,
as I do confidently believe, the latter; because, having my self, for
several Months, racked my Invention (if possible) to enrich this Treasury
with some Additions of my own (which, however, should have been printed
in a different Character, that I might not be charged with imposing
upon the Publick) and having shewn them to some judicious Friends, they
dealt very sincerely with me; all unanimously agreeing, that mine were
infinitely below the true old Helps to Discourse, drawn up in my present
Collection, and confirmed their Opinion with Reasons, by which I was
perfectly convinced, as well as ashamed, of my great Presumption.

But, I lately met a much stronger Argument to confirm me in the same
Sentiments: For, as the great Bishop BURNET, of _Salisbury_, informs
us in the Preface to his admirable _History of his own Times_, that
he intended to employ himself in polishing it every Day of his Life,
(and indeed in its Kind it is almost equally polished with this Work of
mine:) So, it hath been my constant Business, for some Years past, to
examine, with the utmost Strictness, whether I could possibly find the
smallest Lapse in Style or Propriety through my whole Collection, that,
in Emulation with the Bishop, I might send it abroad as the most finished
Piece of the Age.

It happened one Day as I was dining in good Company of both Sexes, and
watching, according to my Custom, for new Materials wherewith to fill my
Pocket-Book, I succeeded well enough till after Dinner, when the Ladies
retired to their Tea, and left us over a Bottle of Wine. But I found we
were not able to furnish any more Materials, that were worth the Pains of
transcribing: For, the Discourse of the Company was all degenerated into
smart Sayings of their own Invention, and not of the true old Standard;
so that, in absolute Despair, I withdrew, and went to attend the Ladies
at their Tea. From whence I did then conclude, and still continue to
believe, either that Wine doth not inspire Politeness, or that our Sex is
not able to support it without the Company of Women, who never fail to
lead us into the right Way, and there to keep us.

It much encreaseth the Value of these Apophthegms, that unto them we
owe the Continuance of our Language, for at least an hundred Years;
neither is this to be wondered at; because indeed, besides the Smartness
of the Wit, and Fineness of the Raillery, such is the Propriety and
Energy of Expression in them all, that they never can be changed, but to
Disadvantage, except in the Circumstance of using Abbreviations; which,
however, I do not despair, in due Time, to see introduced, having already
met them at some of the Choice Companies in town.

Although this Work be calculated for all Persons of Quality and Fortune
of both Sexes; yet the Reader may perceive, that my particular View was
to the OFFICERS of the ARMY, the GENTLEMEN of the INNS of COURTS, and of
BOTH the UNIVERSITIES; to all COURTIERS, Male and Female, but principally
to the MAIDS of HONOUR, of whom I have been personally acquainted with
two-and-twenty Sets, all excelling in this noble Endowment; till for
some Years past, I know not how, they came to degenerate into Selling
of BARGAINS, and FREE-THINKING; not that I am against either of these
Entertainments at proper Seasons, in compliance with Company, who
may want a Taste for more exalted Discourse, whose Memories may be
short, who are too young to be perfect in their Lessons. Or (although
it be hard to conceive) who have no Inclination to read and learn my
Instructions. And besides, there is a strong Temptation for Court-Ladies
to fall into the two Amusements above-mentioned, that they may avoid
the Censure of affecting Singularity, against the general Current and
Fashion of all about them: But, however, no Man will pretend to affirm,
that either BARGAINS or BLASPHEMY, which are the principal Ornaments
of FREE-THINKING, are so good a Fund of polite Discourse, as what is
to be met with in my Collection. For, as to BARGAINS, few of them seem
to be excellent in their kind, and have not much Variety, because they
all terminate in one single Point; and, to multiply them, would require
more Invention than People have to spare. And, as to BLASPHEMY or
FREE-THINKING, I have known some scrupulous Persons, of both Sexes, who,
by a prejudiced Education, are afraid of Sprights. I must, however,
except the MAIDS of HONOUR, who have been fully convinced, by an infamous
Court-Chaplain, that there is no such Place as Hell.

I cannot, indeed, controvert the Lawfulness of FREE-THINKING, because
it hath been universally allowed, that Thought is free. But, however,
although it may afford a large Field of Matter; yet in my poor Opinion,
it seems to contain very little of Wit or Humour; because it hath
not been antient enough among us to furnish established authentick
Expressions, I mean, such as must receive a Sanction from the polite
World, before their Authority can be allowed; neither was the Art of
BLASPHEMY or FREE-THINKING invented by the Court, or by Persons of great
Quality, who, properly speaking, were Patrons, rather than Inventors of
it; but first brought in by the Fanatick Faction, towards the end of
their Power, and, after the Restoration, carried to _Whitehall_ by the
converted _Rumpers_, with very good Reasons; because they knew, that
K. _Charles_ the Second, who, from a wrong Education, occasioned by
the Troubles of his Father, had Time enough to observe, that Fanatick
Enthusiasm directly led to Atheism, which agreed with the dissolute
Inclinations of his Youth; and, perhaps, these Principles were farther
cultivated in him by the _French_ Huguenots, who have been often charged
with spreading them among us: However, I cannot see where the Necessity
lies, of introducing new and foreign Topicks for Conversation, while we
have so plentiful a Stock of our own Growth.

I have likewise, for some Reasons of equal Weight, been very sparing
in DOUBLE ENTENDRES; because they often put Ladies upon affected
Constraints, and affected Ignorance. In short, they break, or very much
entangle, the Thread of Discourse; neither am I Master of any Rules, to
settle the disconcerted Countenances of the Females in such a Juncture;
I can, therefore, only allow _Inuendoes_ of this Kind to be delivered in
Whispers, and only to young Ladies under Twenty, who, being in Honour
obliged to blush, it may produce a new Subject for Discourse.

Perhaps the Criticks may accuse me of a Defect in my following System
of POLITE CONVERSATION; that there is one great Ornament of Discourse,
whereof I have not produced a single Example; which, indeed, I purposely
omitted for some Reasons that I shall immediately offer; and, if those
Reasons will not satisfy the Male Part of my gentle Readers, the Defect
may be supplied in some manner by an _Appendix_ to the _Second Edition_;
which _Appendix_ shall be printed by it self, and sold for _Sixpence_,
stitched, and with a Marble Cover, that my Readers may have no Occasion
to complain of being defrauded.

The Defect I mean is, my not having inserted, into the Body of my Book,
all the OATHS now most in Fashion for embellishing Discourse; especially
since it could give no Offence to the _Clergy_, who are seldom or never
admitted to these polite Assemblies. And it must be allowed, that Oaths,
well chosen, are not only very useful Expletives to Matter, but great
Ornaments of Style.

What I shall here offer in my own Defence upon this important Article,
will, I hope, be some Extenuation of my Fault.

First, I reasoned with my self, that a just Collection of Oaths, repeated
as often as the Fashion requires, must have enlarged this Volume, at
least, to Double the Bulk; whereby it would not only double the Charge,
but likewise make the Volume less commodious for Pocket-Carriage.

Secondly, I have been assured by some judicious Friends, that themselves
have known certain Ladies to take Offence (whether seriously or no) at
too great a Profusion of Cursing and Swearing, even when that Kind of
Ornament was not improperly introduced; which, I confess, did startle me
not a little; having never observed the like in the Compass of my own
several Acquaintance, at least for twenty Years past. However, I was
forced to submit to wiser Judgments than my own.

Thirdly, as this most useful Treatise is calculated for all future Times,
I considered, in this Maturity of my Age, how great a Variety of Oaths I
have heard since I began to study the World, and to know Men and Manners.
And here I found it to be true what I have read in an antient Poet.

    “For, now-a-days, Men change their Oaths,
    As often as they change their Cloaths.”

In short, Oaths are the Children of Fashion, they are in some sense
almost Annuals, like what I observed before of Cant-Words; and I my
self can remember about forty different Sets. The old Stock-Oaths I am
confident, do not mount to above forty five, or fifty at most; but the
Way of mingling and compounding them is almost as various as that of the
Alphabet.

Sir JOHN PERROT was the first Man of Quality whom I find upon Record to
have sworn by _G—’s W—s_. He lived in the Reign of Q. _Elizabeth_, and
was supposed to have been a natural Son of _Henry_ the Eighth, who might
also have probably been his Instructor. This Oath indeed still continues,
and is a Stock-Oath to this Day; so do several others that have kept
their natural Simplicity: But, infinitely the greater Number hath been so
frequently changed and dislocated, that if the Inventors were now alive,
they could hardly understand them.

Upon these Considerations I began to apprehend, that if I should insert
all the Oaths as are now current, my Book would be out of Vogue with the
first Change of Fashion, and grow useless as an old Dictionary: Whereas,
the Case is quite otherways with my Collection of polite Discourse;
which, as I before observed, hath descended by Tradition for at least
an hundred Years, without any Change in the Phraseology. I, therefore,
determined with my self to leave out the whole System of Swearing;
because, both the male and female Oaths are all perfectly well known and
distinguished; new ones are easily learnt, and with a moderate Share of
Discretion may be properly applied on every fit Occasion. However, I must
here, upon this Article of Swearing, most earnestly recommend to my male
Readers, that they would please a little to study Variety. For, it is
the Opinion of our most refined Swearers, that the same Oath or Curse,
cannot, consistent with true Politeness, be repeated above nine Times in
the same Company, by the same Person, and at one Sitting.

I am far from desiring, or expecting, that all the polite and ingenious
Speeches, contained in this Work, should, in the general Conversation
between Ladies and Gentlemen, come in so quick and so close as I have
here delivered them. By no means: On the contrary, they ought to be
husbanded better, and spread much thinner. Nor, do I make the least
Question, but that, by a discreet thrifty Management, they may serve
for the Entertainment of a whole Year, to any Person, who does not make
too long or too frequent Visits in the same Family. The Flowers of Wit,
Fancy, Wisdom, Humour, and Politeness, scattered in this Volume, amount
to one thousand, seventy and four. Allowing then to every Gentleman and
Lady thirty visiting Families, (not insisting upon Fractions) there
will want but little of an hundred polite Questions, Answers, Replies,
Rejoinders, Repartees, and Remarks, to be daily delivered fresh, in every
Company, for twelve solar Months; and even this is a higher Pitch of
Delicacy than the World insists on, or hath Reason to expect. But, I am
altogether for exalting this Science to its utmost Perfection.

It may be objected, that the Publication of my Book may, in a long
Course of Time, prostitute this noble Art to mean and vulgar People:
But, I answer; That it is not so easy an Acquirement as a few ignorant
Pretenders may imagine. A Footman can swear; but he cannot swear like
a Lord. He can swear as often: But, can he swear with equal Delicacy,
Propriety, and Judgment? No, certainly; unless he be a Lad of superior
Parts, of good Memory, a diligent Observer; one who hath a skilful Ear,
some Knowledge in Musick, and an exact Taste, which hardly fall to the
Share of one in a thousand among that Fraternity, in as high Favour as
they now stand with their Ladies; neither hath one Footman in six so
fine a Genius as to relish and apply those exalted Sentences comprised
in this Volume, which I offer to the World: It is true, I cannot see
that the same ill Consequences would follow from the Waiting-Woman, who,
if she hath been bred to read Romances, may have some small subaltern,
or second-hand Politeness; and if she constantly attends the Tea, and
be a good Listner, may, in some Years, make a tolerable Figure, which
will serve, perhaps, to draw in the young Chaplain or the old Steward.
But, alas! after all, how can she acquire those hundreds of Graces
and Motions, and Airs, the whole military Management of the Fan, the
Contortions of every muscular Motion in the Face, the Risings and
Fallings, the Quickness and Slowness of the Voice, with the several Turns
and Cadences; the proper Junctures of Smiling and Frowning, how often and
how loud to laugh, when to jibe and when to flout, with all the other
Branches of Doctrine and Discipline above-recited?

I am, therefore, not under the least Apprehension that this Art will
be ever in Danger of falling into common Hands, which requires so much
Time, Study, Practice, and Genius, before it arrives to Perfection;
and, therefore, I must repeat my Proposal for erecting Publick Schools,
provided with the best and ablest Masters and Mistresses, at the Charge
of the Nation.

I have drawn this Work into the Form of a Dialogue, after the Patterns of
other famous Writers in History, Law, Politicks, and most other Arts and
Sciences, and I hope it will have the same Success: For, who can contest
it to be of greater Consequence to the Happiness of these Kingdoms, than
all human Knowledge put together. Dialogue is held the best Method of
inculcating any Part of Knowledge; and, as I am confident, that Publick
Schools will soon be founded for teaching Wit and Politeness, after my
Scheme, to young People of Quality and Fortune, I have determined next
Sessions to deliver a Petition to the _House of Lords_ for an Act of
Parliament, to establish my Book, as the Standard _Grammar_ in all the
principal Cities of the Kingdom where this Art is to be taught, by able
Masters, who are to be approved and recommended by me; which is no more
than LILLY obtained only for teaching Words in a Language wholly useless:
Neither shall I be so far wanting to my self, as not to desire a Patent
granted of course to all useful Projectors; I mean, that I may have the
sole Profit of giving a Licence to every School to read my _Grammar_ for
fourteen Years.

The Reader cannot but observe what Pains I have been at in polishing
the Style of my Book to the greatest Exactness: Nor, have I been less
diligent in refining the Orthography, by spelling the Words in the
very same Manner that they are pronounced by the Chief Patterns of
Politeness, at Court, at Levees, at Assemblees, at Play-houses, at the
prime Visiting-Places, by young Templers, and by Gentlemen-Commoners of
both Universities, who have lived at least a Twelvemonth in Town, and
kept the best Company. Of these Spellings the Publick will meet with many
Examples in the following Book. For instance, _can’t_, _han’t_, _sha’nt_,
_didn’t_, _coodn’t_, _woodn’t_, _isn’t_, _e’n’t_, with many more; besides
several Words which Scholars pretend are derived from _Greek_ and
_Latin_, but not pared into a polite Sound by Ladies, Officers of the
Army, Courtiers and Templers, such as _Jommetry_ for _Geometry_, _Verdi_
for _Verdict_, _Lierd_ for _Lord_, _Larnen_ for _Learning_; together
with some Abbreviations exquisitely refined; as, _Pozz_ for _Positive_;
_Mobb_ for _Mobile_; _Phizz_ for _Physiognomy_; _Rep_ for _Reputation_;
_Plenipo_ for _Plenipotentiary_; _Incog_ for _Incognito_; _Hypps_, or
_Hippo_, for _Hypocondriacks_; _Bam_ for _Bamboozle_; and _Bamboozle_
for _God knows what_; whereby much Time is saved, and the high Road to
Conversation cut short by many a Mile.

I have, as it will be apparent, laboured very much, and, I hope, with
Felicity enough, to make every Character in the Dialogue agreeable with
it self, to a degree, that, whenever any judicious Person shall read my
Book aloud, for the Entertainment and Instruction of a select Company,
he need not so much as name the particular Speakers; because all the
Persons, throughout the several Subjects of Conversation, strictly
observe a different Manner, peculiar to their Characters, which are of
different kinds: But this I leave entirely to the prudent and impartial
Reader’s Discernment.

Perhaps the very Manner of introducing the several Points of Wit and
Humour may not be less entertaining and instructing than the Matter it
self. In the latter I can pretend to little Merit; because it entirely
depends upon Memory and the Happiness of having kept polite Company.
But, the Art of contriving, that those Speeches should be introduced
naturally, as the most proper Sentiments to be delivered upon so great
Variety of Subjects, I take to be a Talent somewhat uncommon, and a
Labour that few People could hope to succeed in unless they had a
Genius, particularly turned that way, added to a sincere disinterested
Love of the Publick.

Although every curious Question, smart Answer, and witty Reply be little
known to many People; yet, there is not one single Sentence in the whole
Collection, for which I cannot bring most authentick Vouchers, whenever I
shall be called; and, even for some Expressions, which to a few nice Ears
may perhaps appear somewhat gross, I can produce the Stamp of Authority
from Courts, Chocolate-houses, Theatres, Assemblees, Drawing-rooms,
Levees, Card-meetings, Balls, and Masquerades, from Persons of both
Sexes, and of the highest Titles next to Royal. However, to say the
truth, I have been very sparing in my Quotations of such Sentiments that
seem to be over free; because, when I began my Collection, such kind of
Converse was almost in its Infancy, till it was taken into the Protection
of my honoured Patronesses at Court, by whose Countenance and Sanction it
hath become a choice Flower in the Nosegay of Wit and Politeness.

Some will perhaps object, that when I bring my Company to Dinner, I
mention too great a Variety of Dishes, not always consistent with the
Art of Cookery, or proper for the Season of the Year, and Part of the
first Course mingled with the second, besides a Failure in Politeness, by
introducing Black Pudden to a Lord’s Table, and at a great Entertainment:
But, if I had omitted the Black Pudden, I desire to know what would have
become of that exquisite Reason given by Miss NOTABLE for not eating it;
the World perhaps might have lost it for ever, and I should have been
justly answerable for having left it out of my Collection. I therefore
cannot but hope, that such Hypercritical Readers will please to consider,
my Business was to make so full and compleat a Body of refined Sayings,
as compact as I could; only taking care to produce them in the most
natural and probable Manner, in order to allure my Readers into the very
Substance and Marrow of this most admirable and necessary Art.

I am heartily sorry, and was much disappointed to find, that so universal
and polite an Entertainment as CARDS, hath hitherto contributed very
little to the Enlargement of my Work; I have sate by many hundred Times
with the utmost Vigilance, and my Table-Book ready, without being able in
eight Hours to gather Matter for one single Phrase in my Book. But this,
I think, may be easily accounted for by the Turbulence and Justling of
Passions upon the various and surprising Turns, Incidents, Revolutions,
and Events of good and evil Fortune, that arrive in the course of a long
Evening at Play; the Mind being wholly taken up, and the Consequence of
Non-attention so fatal.

Play is supported upon the two great Pillars of Deliberation and Action.
The Terms of Art are few, prescribed by Law and Custom; no Time allowed
for Digressions or Tryals of Wit. QUADRILLE in particular bears some
Resemblance to a State of Nature, which, we are told, is a State of War,
wherein every Woman is against every Woman: The Unions short, inconstant,
and soon broke; the League made this Minute without knowing the Ally; and
dissolved in the next. Thus, at the Game of QUADRILLE, female Brains are
always employed in Stratagem, or their Hands in Action. Neither can I
find, that our Art hath gained much by the happy Revival of MASQUERADING
among us; the whole Dialogue in those Meetings being summed up in one
sprightly (I confess, but) single Question, and as sprightly an Answer.
DO YOU KNOW ME? YES, I DO. And, DO YOU KNOW ME? YES, I DO. For this
Reason I did not think it proper to give my Readers the Trouble of
introducing a Masquerade, meerly for the sake of a single Question, and
a single Answer. Especially, when to perform this in a proper manner, I
must have brought in a hundred Persons together, of both Sexes, dressed
in fantastick Habits for one Minute, and dismiss them the next.

Neither is it reasonable to conceive, that our Science can be much
improved by Masquerades; where the Wit of both Sexes is altogether taken
up in continuing singular and humoursome Disguises; and their Thoughts
entirely employed in bringing Intrigues and Assignations of Gallantry to
an happy Conclusion.

The judicious Reader will readily discover, that I make Miss NOTABLE my
Heroin, and Mr. THOMAS NEVER-OUT my Hero. I have laboured both their
Characters with my utmost Ability. It is into their Mouths that I have
put the liveliest Questions, Answers, Repartees, and Rejoynders; because
my Design was to propose them both as Patterns for all young Batchelors
and single Ladies to copy after. By which I hope very soon to see polite
Conversation flourish between both Sexes in a more consummate Degree of
Perfection, than these Kingdoms have yet ever known.

I have drawn some Lines of Sir JOHN LINGER’S Character, the _Derbyshire_
Knight, on purpose to place it in Counter-view or Contrast with that of
the other Company; wherein I can assure the Reader, that I intended not
the least Reflexion upon _Derbyshire_, the Place of my Nativity. But,
my Intention was only to shew the Misfortune of those Persons, who have
the Disadvantage to be bred out of the Circle of Politeness; whereof
I take the present Limits to extend no further than _London_, and ten
Miles round; although others are please to compute it within the Bills of
Mortality. If you compare the Discourses of my Gentlemen and Ladies with
those of Sir JOHN, you will hardly conceive him to have been bred in the
same Climate, or under the same Laws, Language, Religion, or Government:
And, accordingly, I have introduced him speaking in his own rude Dialect,
for no other Reason than to teach my Scholars how to avoid it.

The curious Reader will observe, that when Conversation appears in
danger to flag, which, in some Places, I have artfully contrived, I
took care to invent some sudden Question, or Turn of Wit, to revive it;
such as these that follow. _What? I think here’s a silent Meeting!_
_Come, Madam, A Penny for your Thought_; with several other of the like
sort. I have rejected all provincial or country Turns of Wit and Fancy,
because I am acquainted with a very few; but, indeed, chiefly because I
found them so very much inferior to those at Court, especially among the
Gentlemen-Ushers, the Ladies of the Bed-Chamber, and the Maids of Honour;
I must also add, the hither End of our noble Metropolis.

When this happy Art of polite Conversing shall be thoroughly improved,
good Company will be no longer pestered with dull, dry, tedious
Story-tellers, nor brangling Disputers: For, a right Scholar, of
either Sex, in our Science, will perpetually interrupt them with some
sudden surprising Piece of Wit, that shall engage all the Company in
a loud Laugh; and, if after a Pause, the grave Companion resumes his
Thread in the following Manner; _Well, but to go on with my Story_; new
Interruptions come from the Left to the Right, till he is forced to give
over.

I have made some few Essays toward _Selling of_ BARGAINS, as well for
instructing those, who delight in that Accomplishment, as in compliance
with my Female Friends at Court. However, I have transgressed a little
in this Point, by doing it in a manner somewhat more reserved than as it
is now practiced at St. _James_’s. At the same time, I can hardly allow
this Accomplishment to pass properly for a Branch of that perfect polite
Conversation, which makes the constituent Subject of my Treatise; and,
for which I have already given my Reasons. I have likewise, for further
Caution, left a Blank in the critical Point of each _Bargain_, which the
sagacious Reader may fill up in his own Mind.

As to my self, I am proud to own, that except some Smattering in
the _French_, I am what the Pedants and Scholars call, a Man wholly
illiterate, that is to say, unlearned. But, as to my own Language, I
shall not readily yield to many Persons: I have read most of the Plays,
and all the miscellany Poems that have been published for twenty Years
past. I have read Mr. _Thomas Brown_’s Works entire, and had the Honour
to be his intimate Friend, who was universally allowed to be the greatest
Genius of his Age.

Upon what Foot I stand with the present chief reigning Wits, their
Verses recommendatory, which they have commended me to prefix before
my Book, will be more than a thousand Witnesses: I am, and have been,
likewise, particularly acquainted with Mr. CHARLES GILDON, Mr. WARD,
Mr. DENNIS, that admirable Critick and Poet, and several others. Each
of these eminent Persons (I mean, those who are still alive) have
done me the Honour to read this Production five Times over with the
strictest Eye of friendly Severity, and proposed some, although very few,
Amendments, which I gratefully accepted, and do here publickly return my
Acknowledgment for so singular a Favour.

And here, I cannot conceal, without Ingratitude, the great Assistance I
have received from those two illustrious Writers, Mr. OZEL, and Captain
STEVENS. These, and some others, of distinguished Eminence, in whose
Company I have passed so many agreeable Hours, as they have been the
great Refiners of our Language; so, it hath been my chief Ambition to
imitate them. Let the POPES, the GAYS, the ARBUTHNOTS, the YOUNGS, and
the rest of that snarling Brood burst with Envy at the Praises we receive
from the Court and Kingdom.

But to return from this Digression.

The Reader will find that the following Collection of polite Expressions
will easily incorporate with all Subjects of genteel and fashionable
Life. Those, which are proper for Morning-Tea, will be equally useful
at the same Entertainment in the Afternoon, even in the same Company,
only by shifting the several Questions, Answers, and Replies, into
different Hands; and such as are adapted to Meals will indifferently
serve for Dinners or Suppers, only distinguishing between Day-light and
Candle-light. By this Method no diligent Person, of a tolerable Memory,
can ever be at a loss.

It hath been my constant Opinion, that every Man, who is intrusted by
Nature with any useful Talent of the Mind, is bound by all the Ties
of Honour, and that Justice which we all owe our Country, to propose
to himself some one illustrious Action, to be performed in his Life
for the publick Emolument. And, I freely confess, that so grand, so
important an Enterprize as I have undertaken, and executed to the best
of my Power, well deserved a much abler Hand, as well as a liberal
Encouragement from the Crown. However, I am bound so far to acquit my
self, as to declare, that I have often and most earnestly intreated
several of my above-named Friends, universally allowed to be of the
first Rank in Wit and Politeness, that they would undertake a Work, so
honourable to themselves, and so beneficial to the Kingdom; but so great
was their Modesty, that they all thought fit to excuse themselves, and
impose the Task on me; yet in so obliging a Manner, and attended with
such Compliments on my poor Qualifications, that I dare not repeat.
And, at last, their Intreaties, or rather their Commands, added to that
inviolable Love I bear to the Land of my Nativity, prevailed upon me to
engage in so bold an Attempt.

I may venture to affirm, without the least Violation of Modesty,
that there is no Man, now alive, who hath, by many Degrees, so just
Pretensions as my self, to the highest Encouragement from the CROWN,
the PARLIAMENT, and the MINISTRY, towards bringing this Work to its due
Perfection. I have been assured, that several great Heroes of antiquity
were worshipped as Gods, upon the Merit of having civilized a fierce and
barbarous People. It is manifest, I could have no other Intentions; and,
I dare appeal to my very Enemies, if such a Treatise as mine had been
published some Years ago, and with as much Success as I am confident
this will meet, I mean, by turning the Thoughts of the whole Nobility
and Gentry to the Study and Practice of polite Conversation; whether
such mean stupid Writers, as the CRAFTSMAN and his Abettors, could
have been able to corrupt the Principles of so many hundred thousand
Subjects, as, to the Shame and Grief of every whiggish, loyal, and true
Protestant Heart, it is too manifest, they have done. For, I desire the
honest judicious Reader to make one Remark, that after having exhausted
the Whole[2] _In sickly payday_ (if I may so call it) of Politeness and
Refinement, and faithfully digested it in the following Dialogues, there
cannot be found one Expression relating to Politicks; that the MINISTRY
is never mentioned, nor the Word KING, above twice or thrice, and then
only to the Honour of Majesty; so very cautious were our wiser Ancestors
in forming Rules for Conversation, as never to give Offence to Crowned
Heads, nor interfere with Party Disputes in the State. And indeed,
although there seem to be a close Resemblance between the two Words
_Politeness_ and _Politicks_, yet no Ideas are more inconsistent in their
Natures. However, to avoid all Appearance of Disaffection, I have taken
care to enforce Loyalty by an invincible Argument, drawn from the very
Fountain of this noble Science, in the following short Terms, that ought
to be writ in Gold, MUST IS FOR THE KING; which uncontroulable Maxim I
took particular Care of introducing in the first Page of my Book; thereby
to instil early the best Protestant Loyal Notions into the Minds of my
Readers. Neither is it meerly my own private Opinion, that Politeness is
the firmest Foundation upon which Loyalty can be supported: For, thus
happily sings the Divine Mr. _Tibbalds_, or _Theobalds_, in one of his
Birth-Day Poems.

    “I am no Schollard; but I am polite:
    Therefore be sure I am no _Jacobite_.”

Hear likewise, to the same purpose, that great Master of the whole
Poetick Choir, our most illustrious Laureat Mr. COLLY CIBBER.

    “Who in his Talk can’t speak a polite Thing,
    Will never loyal be to GEORGE _our King_.”

I could produce many more shining Passages out of our principal Poets, of
both Sexes, to confirm this momentous Truth. From whence, I think, it may
be fairly concluded, that whoever can most contribute towards propagating
the Science contained in the following Sheets, through the Kingdoms of
_Great-Britain_ and _Ireland_, may justly demand all the Favour, that the
wisest Court, and most judicious Senate, are able to confer on the most
deserving Subject. I leave the Application to my Readers.

This is the Work, which I have been so hardy to attempt, and without the
least mercenary View. Neither do I doubt of succeeding to my full Wish,
except among the TORIES and their Abettors; who being all _Jacobites_,
and, consequently _Papists_ in their Hearts, from a Want of true Taste,
or by strong Affectation, may perhaps resolve not to read my Book;
chusing rather to deny themselves the Pleasure and Honour of shining in
polite Company among the principal Genius’s of both Sexes throughout
the Kingdom, than adorn their Minds with this noble Art; and probably
apprehending (as, I confess nothing is more likely to happen) that a true
Spirit of Loyalty to the Protestant Succession should steal in along with
it.

If my favourable and gentle Readers could possibly conceive the perpetual
Watchings, the numberless Toils, the frequent Risings in the Night, to
set down several ingenious Sentences, that I suddenly or accidentally
recollected; and which, without my utmost Vigilance, had been
irrecoverably lost for ever: If they would consider with what incredible
Diligence I daily and nightly attended at those Houses, where Persons of
both Sexes, and of the most distinguished Merit, used to meet and display
their Talents; with what Attention I listened to all their Discourses,
the better to retain them in my Memory; and then, at proper Seasons,
withdrew unobserved, to enter them in my Table-Book, while the Company
little suspected what a noble Work I had then in Embryo: I say, if all
these were known to the World, I think, it would be no great Presumption
in me to expect, at a proper Juncture, the publick Thanks of both Houses
of Parliament, for the Service and Honour I have done to the whole Nation
by my single Pen.

Although I have never been once charged with the least Tincture of
Vanity, the Reader will, I hope, give me leave to put an easy Question:
What is become of all the King of _Sweden_’s Victories? Where are
the Fruits of them at this Day? or, of what Benefit will they be to
Posterity? were not many of his greatest Actions owing, at least in part,
to Fortune? were not all of them owing to the Valour of his Troops, as
much as to his own Conduct? could he have conquered the _Polish_ King,
or the _Czar_ of _Muscovy_, with his single Arm? Far be it from me to
envy or lessen the Fame he hath acquired; but, at the same time, I will
venture to say, without Breach of Modesty, that I, who have alone with
this Right-hand subdued Barbarism, Rudeness, and Rusticity, who have
established and fixed for ever the whole System of all true Politeness
and Refinement in Conversation, should think my self most inhumanely
treated by my Country-men, and would accordingly resent it as the highest
Indignity, to be put upon the level, in point of Fame, in After-ages,
with CHARLES the Twelfth, late King of _Sweden_.

And yet, so incurable is the Love of Detraction, perhaps beyond what
the charitable Reader will easily believe, that I have been assured by
more than one credible Person, how some of my Enemies have industriously
whispered about, that one ISAAC NEWTON, an Instrument-maker, formerly
living near _Leicester-Fields_, and afterwards a Workman at the Mint in
the _Tower_, might possibly pretend to vye with me for Fame in future
times. The Man it seems was knighted for making Sun-Dials better than
others of his Trade, and was thought to be a Conjurer, because he
knew how to draw Lines and Circles upon a Slate, which no body could
understand. But, adieu to all noble Attempts for endless Renown, if
the Ghost of an obscure Mechanick shall be raised up to enter into
competition with me, only for his Skill in making Pot-hooks and Hangers
with a Pencil, which many thousand accomplished Gentlemen and Ladies
can perform as well with a Pen and Ink upon a Piece of Paper, and, in a
manner, as little intelligible as those of Sir ISAAC.

My most ingenious Friend already mentioned, Mr. COLLY CIBBER, who does
too much Honour to the Laurel Crown he deservedly wears (as he hath often
done to many Imperial Diadems placed on his Head) was pleased to tell
me, that, if my Treatise were formed into a Comedy, the Representation,
performed to Advantage on our Theatre might very much contribute to the
Spreading of polite Conversation among all Persons of Distinction through
the whole Kingdom.

I own, the Thought was ingenious, and my Friend’s Intention good. But, I
cannot agree to his Proposal: For, Mr. CIBBER himself allowed, that the
Subjects handled in my Work, being so numerous and extensive, it would be
absolutely impossible for one, two, or even six Comedies to contain them.
From whence it will follow, that many admirable and essential Rules for
polite Conversation must be omitted.

And here let me do justice to my Friend Mr. TIBALDS, who plainly
confessed before Mr. CIBBER himself, that such a Project, as it would
be a great Diminution to my Honour, so it would intolerably mangle my
Scheme, and thereby destroy the principal End at which I aimed, to form
a compleat Body or System of this most useful Science in all its Parts.
And therefore Mr. TIBBALDS, whose Judgment was never disputed, chose
rather to fall in with my Proposal mentioned before, of erecting publick
Schools and Seminaries all over the Kingdom, to instruct the young People
of both Sexes in this Art, according to my Rules, and in the Method that
I have laid down.

I shall conclude this long, but necessary Introduction, with a Request,
or indeed rather, a just and reasonable Demand from all Lords, Ladies,
and Gentlemen, that while they are entertaining and improving each
other with those polite Questions, Answers, Repartees, Replies, and
Rejoinders, which I have with infinite Labour, and close Application,
during the Space of thirty-six Years, been collecting for their Service
and Improvement, they shall, as an Instance of Gratitude, on every proper
Occasion, quote my Name, after this or the like manner. _Madam, as our
Master_ WAGSTAFF _says_. _My Lord, as our Friend_ WAGSTAFF _has it_. I
do likewise expect, that all my Pupils shall drink my Health every Day
at Dinner and Supper during my Life; and that they, or their Posterity,
shall continue the same Ceremony to my _not inglorious Memory_, after my
Decease, for ever.

[2] This Word is spelt by _Latinists_, _Encyclopædia_; but the judicious
Author wisely prefers the Polite Reading before the Pedantick.




POLITE CONVERSATION.

IN THREE DIALOGUES.




DRAMATIS PERSONÆ


The MEN.

    _Lord_ SPARKISH,
    _Lord_ SMART,
    _Sir_ JOHN LINGER,
    _Mr._ NEVEROUT,
    _Colonel_ ATWIT.


The LADIES.

    _Lady_ SMART,
    _Miss_ NOTABLE,
    _Lady_ ANSWERALL.




POLITE CONVERSATION, ETC.

ST. JAMES’S PARK.

_Lord_ Sparkish _meeting Col._ Atwit.


_Col._ Well met, my Lord.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Thank ye, Colonel. A Parson would have said, I hope we
shall meet in Heaven. When did you see _Tom Neverout_?

_Col._ He’s just coming towards us. Talk of the Devil——

    [Neverout _comes up_.

_Col._ How do you do, _Tom_?

_Neverout._ Never the better for you.

_Col._ I hope, you’re never the worse. But where’s your Manners? Don’t
you see my Lord _Sparkish_?

_Neverout._ My Lord, I beg your Lordship’s Pardon.

_Ld. Sparkish._ _Tom_, how is it, that you can’t see the Wood for Trees?
What Wind blew you hither?

_Neverout._ Why, my Lord, it is an ill Wind blows nobody good; for it
gives me the Honour of seeing your Lordship.

_Col._ _Tom_, you must go with us to Lady _Smart_’s to Breakfast.

_Neverout._ Must? Why, Colonel, Must’s for the King.

    [_Col. offering in Jest to draw his Sword._

_Col._ Have you spoke with all your Friends?

_Neverout._ Colonel, as you’re stout, be merciful.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Come, agree, agree; the Law’s costly.

    [_Col. taking his Hand from the Hilt._

_Col._ Well, _Tom_, you are never the worse Man to be afraid of me. Come
along.

_Neverout._ What, do you think, I was born in a Wood, to be afraid of an
Owl?

I’ll wait on you. I hope Miss _Notable_ will be there; egad she’s very
handsome, and has Wit at Will.

_Col._ Why every one as they like; as the good Woman said, when she
kiss’d her Cow.

    [_Lord_ Smart’_s House; they knock at the Door; the_ Porter
    _comes out_.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, are you the Porter?

_Porter._ Yes, for Want of a better.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Is your Lady at Home?

_Porter._ She was at Home just now; but she’s not gone out yet.

_Neverout._ I warrant, this Rogue’s Tongue is well hung.

    [_Lady_ Smart’_s Antichamber_.

    _Lady_ Smart _and Lady_ Answerall _at the Tea-table_.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord, your Lordship’s most humble Servant.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Madam, you spoke too late; I was your Ladyship’s before.

_Lady Smart._ Oh! Colonel, are you here!

_Col._ As sure as you’re there, Madam.

_Lady Smart._ Oh, Mr. _Neverout_! what, such a Man alive!

_Neverout._ Ay, Madam; alive, and alive like to be, at your Ladyship’s
Service.

_Lady Smart._ Well: I’ll get a Knife, and nick it down, that Mr.
_Neverout_ came to our House. And pray, What News Mr. _Neverout_?

_Neverout._ Why, Madam, Queen _Elizabeth_’s dead.

_Lady Smart._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, I see you are no Changeling.

    [_Miss_ Notable _comes in_.

_Neverout._ Miss, your Slave: I hope your early Rising will do you no
Harm. I hear you are but just come out of the Cloth-Market.

_Miss._ I always rise at Eleven, whether it be Day or no.

_Col._ Miss, I hope you are up for all Day?

_Miss._ Yes, if I don’t get a Fall before Night.

_Col._ Miss, I heard you were out of Order; pray, how are you now?

_Miss._ Pretty well, Colonel, I thank you.

_Col._ Pretty and well, Miss! that’s Two very good things.

_Miss._ I mean, I am better than I was.

_Neverout._ Why then, ’tis well you were sick.

_Miss._ What, Mr. _Neverout_; you take me up, before I’m down.

_Lady Smart._ Come, let us leave off Children’s Play, and come to
Push-pin.

_Miss_ [_to Lady Smart._] Pray, Madam, give me some more Sugar to my Tea.

_Col._ Oh! Miss, you must needs be very good-humour’d, you love sweet
things so much.

_Neverout._ Stir it up with the Spoon, Miss; for the deeper the sweeter.

_Lady Smart._ I assure you, Miss, the Colonel has made you a great
Compliment.

_Miss._ I am sorry for it; for I have heard say, that complimenting is
lying.

_Lady Smart_ [_to Ld. Sparkish._] My Lord, methinks the Sight of you is
good for sore Eyes; if we had known of your Coming, we would have strown
Rushes for you: How has your Lordship done this long time?

_Col._ Faith, Madam, he’s better in Health, than in good Conditions.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well; I see there’s no worse Friend than one brings from
Home with one; and I am not the first Man has carry’d a Rod to whip
himself.

_Neverout._ Here’s Miss, has not a Word to throw at a Dog. Come; a Penny
for your Thoughts.

_Miss._ It is not worth a Farthing; for I was thinking of you.

    [_Col._——_rising up._——

_Lady Smart._ Colonel, Where are you going so soon? I hope you did not
come to fetch Fire.

_Col._ Madam, I must needs go Home for half an Hour.

_Miss._ Why, Colonel, they say, the Devil’s at Home.

_Lady Answerall._ Well, but sit while you stay; ’tis as cheap sitting as
standing.

_Col._ No, Madam; while I’m standing I’m going.

_Miss._ Nay, let him go; I promise him, we won’t tear his Cloaths to hold
him.

_Lady Smart._ I suppose, Colonel, we keep you from better Company; I mean
only as to myself.

_Col._ Madam, I am all Obedience.

    [_Col. sits down._

_Lady Smart._ Lord, Miss, how can you drink your Tea so hot? Sure your
Mouth’s pav’d.

How do you like this Tea, Colonel?

_Col._ Well enough, Madam; but methinks it is a little more-ish.

_Lady Smart._ Oh, Colonel! I understand you. _Betty_, bring the
Canister: I have but very little of this Tea left; but I don’t love to
make two Wants of one; want when I have it, and want when I have it not.
He, he, he, he.

    [_Laughs._

_Lady Answ._ [_to the Maid._] Why, sure, _Betty_, you are bewitch’d; the
Cream is burnt to.

_Betty._ Why, Madam, the Bishop has set his Foot in it.

_Lady Smart._ Go, you Girl, and warm some fresh Cream.

_Betty._ Indeed, Madam, there’s none left; for the Cat has eaten it all.

_Lady Smart._ I doubt, it was a Cat with Two Legs.

_Miss._ Colonel, Don’t you love Bread and Butter with your Tea?

_Col._ Yes, in a Morning, Miss: For they say, Butter is Gold in a
Morning, Silver at Noon, but it is Lead at Night.

_Neverout._ Miss, the Weather is so hot, that my Butter melts on my Bread.

_Lady Answ._ Why, Butter, I’ve heard ’em say, is mad twice a Year.

_Ld. Sparkish._ [_to the Maid._] Mrs. _Betty_, how does your Body
Politick?

_Col._ Fie, my Lord; you’ll make Mrs. _Betty_ blush.

_Lady Smart._ Blush! ay, blush like a blue Dog.

_Neverout._ Pray, Mrs. _Betty_, Are not you _Tom Johnson_’s Daughter?

_Betty._ So my Mother tells me, Sir.

_Ld. Sparkish._ But, Mrs. _Betty_, I hear you are in Love.

_Betty._ My Lord, I thank God, I hate nobody; I am in Charity with all
the World.

_Lady Smart._ Why, Wench, I think, thy Tongue runs upon Wheels this
Morning: How came you by that Scratch on your Nose? Have you been
fighting with the Cats?

_Col._ [_to Miss._] Miss, When will you be married?

_Miss._ One of these Odd-come-shortly’s, Colonel.

_Neverout._ Yes; they say, the Match is half made, the Spark is willing,
but Miss is not.

_Miss._ I suppose, the Gentleman has got his own Consent for it.

_Lady Answ._ Pray, My Lord, did you walk through the Park in this Rain?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Yes, Madam; we were neither Sugar nor Salt; we were not
afraid the Rain would melt us. He, he, he. [_Laugh._

_Col._ It rain’d, and the Sun shone at the same time.

_Neverout._ Why, then the Devil was beating his Wife behind the Door,
with a Shoulder of Mutton. [——_Laugh._——

_Col._ A blind Man would be glad to see that.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, methinks you stand in your own Light.

_Neverout._ Ah! Madam, I have done so all my Life.

_Ld. Sparkish._ I’m sure he sits in mine: Prythee, _Tom_, sit a little
farther: I believe your Father was no Glasier.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, dear Girl, fill me out a Dish of Tea, for I’m very
lazy.

    [_Miss fills a Dish of Tea, sweetens it, and then tastes it._

_Lady Smart._ What, Miss, Will you be my Taster?

_Miss._ No, Madam; but, they say, ’tis an ill Cook, that can’t lick her
own Fingers.

_Neverout._ Pray, Miss, fill me another.

_Miss._ Will you have it now, or stay till you get it?

_Lady Answ._ But, Colonel, they say, you went to Court last Night very
drunk: Nay, I’m told for certain, you had been among _Philistines_: No
Wonder the Cat wink’d, when both her Eyes were out.

_Col._ Indeed, Madam, that’s a Lye.

_Lady Answ._ ’Tis better I should lye, than you should lose your good
Manners: Besides, I don’t lie; I sit.

_Neverout._ O faith, Colonel, you must own you had a Drop in your Eye:
When I left you, you were half Seas over.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well, I fear, Lady _Answerall_ can’t live long, she has
so much Wit.

_Neverout._ No; she can’t live, that’s certain; but she may linger Thirty
or Forty Years.

_Miss._ Live long; ay, longer than a Cat, or a Dog, or a better thing.

_Lady Answ._ Oh! Miss, you must give your Vardi too!

_Ld. Sparkish._ Miss, Shall I fill you another Dish of Tea?

_Miss._ Indeed, my Lord, I have drank enough.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Come, it will do you more good than a Month’s Fasting;
here, take it.

_Miss._ No, I thank your Lordship; enough’s as good as a Feast.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well; but if you always say No, you’ll never be married.

_Lady Answ._ Do, my Lord, give her a Dish; for, they say, Maids will say
No, and take it.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well; and I dare say, Miss is a Maid in Thought, Word,
and Deed.

_Neverout._ I would not take my Oath of that.

_Miss._ Pray, Sir, speak for yourself.

_Lady Smart._ Fie, Miss; they say, Maids should be seen, and not heard.

_Lady Answ._ Good Miss, stir the Fire, that the Tea-Kettle may boil.—You
have done it very well; now it burns purely. Well, Miss, you’ll have a
chearful Husband.

_Miss._ Indeed, your Ladyship could have stirr’d it much better.

_Lady Answ._ I know that very well, Hussy; but I won’t keep a Dog, and
bark myself.

_Neverout._ What! you are sick, Miss.

_Miss._ Not at all; for her Ladyship meant you.

_Neverout._ Oh! faith, Miss, you are in Lob’s-pound; get out as you can.

_Miss._ I won’t quarrel with my Bread and Butter for all that: I know
when I’m well.

_Lady Answ._ Well; but Miss——

_Neverout._ Ah! dear Madam, let the Matter fall; take Pity on poor Miss;
don’t throw Water on a drownded Rat.

_Miss._ Indeed, Mr. _Neverout_, you should be cut for the Simples this
Morning: Say a Word more, and you had as good eat your Nails.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Miss, will you be so good as to favour us with a
Song?

_Miss._ Indeed, my Lord, I can’t; for I have a great Cold.

_Col._ Oh! Miss, they say, all good Singers have Colds.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Madam, does not Miss sing very well?

_Lady Answ._ She sings, as one may _say_, my Lord.

_Miss._ I hear, Mr. _Neverout_ has a very good Voice.

_Col._ Yes; _Tom_ sings well; but his Luck’s naught.

_Neverout._ Faith, Colonel, you hit yourself a devilish Box on the Ear.

_Col._ Miss, Will you take a Pinch of Snuff?

_Miss._ No, Colonel; you must know, I never take Snuff, but when I’m
angry.

_Lady Answ._ Yes, yes, she can take Snuff; but she has never a Box to put
it in.

_Miss._ Pray, Colonel, let me see that Box.

_Col._ Madam, there’s never a C upon it.

_Miss._ May be there is, Colonel.

_Col._ Ay; but May-bees don’t fly now, Miss.

_Neverout._ Colonel, why so hard upon poor Miss? Don’t set your Wit
against a Child: Miss, give me a Blow, and I’ll beat him.

_Miss._ So she pray’d me to tell you.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, my Lady _Smart_, What Kin are you to Lord _Pozz_?

_Lady Smart._ Why, his Grandmother and mine had Four Elbows.

_Lady Answ._ Well, methinks here is a silent Meeting. Come, Miss, hold up
your Head, Girl; there’s Money bid for you.

    [—_Miss starts_—

_Miss._ Lord, Madam, you frighten me out of my Seven Senses!

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well, I must be going.

_Lady Answ._ I have seen hastier People than you stay all Night.

_Col._ [_to Lady Smart._] _Tom Neverout_ and I are to leap To-morrow for
a Guinea.

_Miss._ I believe, Colonel, Mr. _Neverout_ can leap at a Crust better
than you.

_Neverout._ Miss, your Tongue runs before your Wit; nothing can tame you
but a Husband.

_Miss._ Peace! I think I hear the Church Clock.

_Neverout._ Why you know, as the Fool thinks——

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, your Handkerchief’s fallen.

_Miss._ Let him set his Foot on it, that it mayn’t fly in his Face.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss——

_Miss._ Ay, ay; many a one says well, that thinks ill.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss; I’ll think of this.

_Miss._ That’s Rhime, if you take it in Time.

_Neverout._ What! I see you are a Poet.

_Miss._ Yes; if I had but the Wit to show it.

_Neverout._ Miss, Will you be so kind as to fill me a Dish of Tea?

_Miss._ Pray, let your Betters be serv’d before you; I am just going to
fill one for myself; and, you know, the Parson always christens his own
Child first.

_Neverout._ But I saw you fill one just now for the Colonel: Well, I find
kissing goes by Favour.

_Miss._ But pray, Mr. _Neverout_, What Lady was that you were talking
with in the Side-Box last _Tuesday_?

_Neverout._ Miss, can you keep a Secret?

_Miss._ Yes, I can.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss; and so can I.

_Col._ Odds-so! I have cut my Thumb with this cursed Knife!

_Lady Answ._ Ay; that was your Mother’s Fault, because she only warn’d
you not to cut your Fingers.

_Lady Smart._ No, no;’tis only Fools cut their Fingers; but wise Folks
cut their Thumbs.——

_Miss._ I’m sorry for it, but I can’t cry.

_Col._ Don’t you think Miss is grown?

_Lady Answ._ Ay; ill Weeds grow apace.

    [——_A Puff of Smoke comes down the Chimney._——

_Lady Answ._ Lord, Madam, Does your Ladyship’s Chimney smoke?

_Col._ No, Madam; but they say, Smoke always pursues the Fair, and your
Ladyship sat nearest.

_Lady Smart._ Madam, Do you love Bohea Tea?

_Lady Answ._ Why, Madam, I must confess I do love it; but it does not
love me.

_Miss._ [_to Lady Smart._] Indeed, Madam, your Ladyship is very sparing
of your Tea: I protest, the last I took, was no more than Water bewitch’d.

_Col._ Pray, Miss, if I may be so bold, What Lover gave you that fine
Etuy?

_Miss._ Don’t you know? then keep Counsel.

_Lady Answ._ I’ll tell you, Colonel, who gave it her; it was the best
Lover she will ever have while she lives; her own dear Papa.

_Neverout._ Methinks, Miss, I don’t much like the Colour of that Ribbon.

_Miss._ Why then, Mr. _Neverout_, do you see, if you don’t much like it,
you may look off of it.

_Ld. Sparkish._ I don’t doubt, Madam, but your Ladyship has heard, that
Sir _John Brisk_ has got an Employment at Court.

_Lady Smart._ Yes, yes; and I warrant, he thinks himself no small Fool
now.

_Neverout._ Yet, Madam, I have heard some People take him for a wise Man.

_Lady Smart._ Ay, ay; some are wise, and some are other-wise.

_Lady Answ._ Do you know him, Mr. _Neverout_?

_Neverout._ Know him! ay, as well as the Beggar knows his Dish.

_Col._ Well; I can only say, that he has better Luck than honester Folks:
But pray, How came he to get this Employment?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, by Chance, as the Man kill’d the Devil.

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, you are in a brown Study; What’s the Matter?
Methinks you look like Mum-Chance, that was hang’d for saying nothing.

_Miss._ I’d have you to know, I scorn your Words.

_Neverout._ Well; but scornful Dogs will eat dirty Puddings.

_Miss._ Well; my Comfort is, your Tongue is no Slander. What! you would
not have one be always on the high Grin.

_Neverout._ Cry, Map-sticks, Madam; no Offence, I hope.

    [——_Lady_ Smart _breaks a Tea-cup_.——

_Lady Answ._ Lord, Madam, How came you to break your Cup?

_Lady Smart._ I can’t help it, if I would cry my Eyes out.

_Miss._ Why, sell it, Madam, and buy a new one with some of the Money.

_Col._ ’Tis a Folly to cry for spilt Milk.

_Lady Smart._ Why, if Things did not break or wear out, how would
Tradesmen live?

_Miss._ Well; I am very sick, if any body car’d for it.

_Neverout._ Come, then, Miss, e’en make a Die of it, and then we shall
have a Burying of our own.

_Miss._ The Devil take you, _Neverout_, besides all small Curses.

_Lady Answ._ Marry, come up, What, plain _Neverout_! methinks you might
have an M under your Girdle, Miss.

_Lady Smart._ Well, well, naught’s never in Danger; I warrant, Miss will
spit in her Hand, and hold fast. Colonel, do you like this Bisket?

_Col._ I’m like all Fools; I love every Thing that’s good.

_Lady Smart._ Well, and isn’t it pure good?

_Col._ ’Tis better than a worse.

    [——_Footman brings the Colonel a Letter._——

_Lady Answ._ I suppose, Colonel, that’s a Billet-doux from your Mistress.

_Col._ Egad, I don’t know whence it comes; but whoe’er writ it, writes a
Hand like a Foot.

_Miss._ Well, you may make a Secret of it, but we can spell, and put
together.

_Neverout._ Miss, What spells B double Uzzard?

_Miss._ Buzzard in your Teeth, Mr. _Neverout_.

_Lady Smart._ Now you are up, Mr. _Neverout_, Will you do me the Favour,
to do me the Kindness, to take off the Tea-kettle?

_Ld. Sparkish._ I wonder what makes these Bells ring.

_Lady Answ._ Why, my Lord, I suppose, because they pull the Ropes.

    [_Here all laugh._

    [——Neverout _plays with a Tea-cup_.——

_Miss._ Now a Child would have cry’d half an Hour before it would have
found out such a pretty Plaything.

_Lady Smart._ Well said, Miss: I vow, Mr. _Neverout_, the Girl is too
hard for you.

_Neverout._ Ay, Miss will say any Thing but her Prayers, and those she
whistles.

_Miss._ Pray, Colonel, make me a Present of that pretty Penknife?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay, Miss, catch him at that, and hang him.

_Col._ Not for the World, dear Miss; it will cut Love.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Colonel, you shall be married first, I was just going to
say that.

_Lady Smart._ Well, but for all that, I can tell who is a great Admirer
of Miss: Pray, Miss, how do you like Mr. _Spruce_? I swear I have often
seen him cast a Sheep’s Eye out of a Calf’s Head at you: Deny it if you
can.

_Miss._ Oh! Madam; all the World knows, that Mr. _Spruce_ is a general
Lover.

_Col._ Come, Miss, ’tis too true to make a Jest on.

    [——_Miss blushes._——

_Lady Answ._ Well, however, Blushing is some Sign of Grace.

_Neverout._ Miss says nothing; but I warrant she pays it off with
Thinking.

_Miss._ Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, you are pleas’d to divert yourselves;
but, as I hope to be sav’d, there’s nothing in it.

_Lady Smart._ Touch a gall’d Horse, and he’ll wince: Love will creep
where it dare not go: I’d hold a hundred Pound Mr. _Neverout_ was the
Inventor of that Story; and, Colonel, I doubt you had a Finger in the Pye.

_Lady Answ._ But, Colonel, you forgot to salute Miss when you came in;
she said you had not been here a long time.

_Miss._ Fie, Madam! I vow, Colonel, I said no such thing; I wonder at
your Ladyship!

_Col._ Miss, I beg your Pardon——

    [_Goes to salute her, she struggles a little._——

_Miss._ Well, I had rather give a Knave a Kiss, for once, than be
troubled with him; but, upon my Word, you are more bold than welcome.

_Lady Smart._ Fie, fie, Miss! for Shame of the World, and Speech of good
People.

    [Neverout _to_ Miss, _who is cooking her Tea and Bread and
    Butter_.

_Neverout._ Come, come, Miss, make much of naught; good Folks are scarce.

_Miss._ What! and You must come in with your Two Eggs a Penny, and Three
of them rotten.

_Col._ [_to Ld. Sparkish._] But, my Lord, I forgot to ask you, How you
like my new Cloaths?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, very well, Colonel; only, to deal plainly with you,
methinks the worst Piece is in the Middle.

    [——_Here a loud Laugh, often repeated._——

_Col._ My Lord, you are too severe on your Friends.

_Miss._ Mr. _Neverout_, I’m hot; are you a Sot?

_Neverout._ Miss, I’m cold; are you a Scold? Take you that.

_Lady Smart._ I confess, that was home. I find, Mr. _Neverout_, you won’t
give your Head for the washing, as they say.

_Miss._ Oh! he’s a sore Man, where the Skin’s off. I see, Mr. _Neverout_
has a Mind to sharpen the Edge of his Wit, on the Whetstone of my
Ignorance.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Faith, _Tom_, you are struck! I never heard a better
Thing.

_Neverout._ Pray, Miss, give me Leave to scratch you for that fine Speech.

_Miss._ Pox on your Picture; it cost me a Groat the drawing.

_Neverout._ [_to Lady Smart._] ’Sbuds, Madam, I have burnt my Hand with
your plaguy Tea-kettle.

_Lady Smart._ Why, then, Mr. _Neverout_, you must say, God save the King.

_Neverout._ Did you ever see the like?

_Miss._ Never, but once, at a Wedding.

_Col._ Pray, Miss, how old are you?

_Miss._ Why, I’m as old as my Tongue, and a little older than my Teeth.

_Ld. Sparkish._ [_to Lady Ans._] Pray, Madam, is Miss _Buxom_ married? I
hear, ’tis all over the Town.

_Lady Answ._ My Lord, she’s either married, or worse.

_Col._ If she ben’t marry’d, at least she’s lustily promis’d. But, is it
certain, that Sir _John Blunderbuss_ is dead at last?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Yes; or else he’s sadly wrong’d, for they have bury’d
him.

_Miss._ Why, if he be dead, he’ll eat no more Bread.

_Col._ But, is he really dead?

_Lady Answ._ Yes, Colonel; as sure as you’re alive——

_Col._ They say, he was an honest Man.

_Lady Answ._ Yes, with good looking to.

    [——Miss _feels a Pimple on her Face_.——

_Miss._ Lord! I think my Goodness is coming out. Madam, will your
Ladyship please to send me a Patch?

_Neverout._ Miss, if you are a Maid, put your Hand upon your Spot.

_Miss._ ——There——

    [_Covering her Face with both her Hands._——

_Lady Smart._ Well, thou art a mad Girl.

    [_Gives her a Tap._

_Miss._ Lord, Madam; is that a Blow to give a Child?

    [——_Lady_ Smart _lets fall her Handkerchief, and the Colonel
    stoops for it_.——

_Lady Smart._ Colonel, you shall have a better Office.

_Col._ Oh! Madam, I can’t have a better, than to serve your Ladyship.

_Col._ [_to Lady Sparkish._] Madam, has your Ladyship read the new Play,
written by a Lord? it is call’d, _Love in a Hollow Tree_.

_Lady Sparkish._ No, Colonel.

_Col._ Why, then your Ladyship has one Pleasure to come.

    [——Miss _sighs_.——

_Neverout._ Pray, Miss, why do you sigh?

_Miss._ To make a Fool ask, and you are the first.

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, I find there is nothing but a Bit and a Blow with
you.

_Lady Answ._ Why, you must know, Miss is in Love.

_Miss._ I wish, my Head may never ake till that Day.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Come, Miss, never sigh, but send for him.

——_Lady Smart and Lady Answerall speaking together._] If he be hang’d,
he’ll come hopping; and if he be drown’d, he’ll come dropping.

_Miss._ Well, I swear, you’d make one die with laughing.

    [——Miss _plays with a Tea-cup, and_ Neverout _plays with
    another_.——

_Neverout._ Well; I see, one Fool makes many.

_Miss._ And you’re the greatest Fool of any.

_Neverout._ Pray, Miss, will you be so kind to tie this String for me
with your fair Hands? it will go all in your Day’s Work.

_Miss._ Marry, come up, indeed; tie it yourself, you have as many Hands
as I; your Man’s Man will have a fine Office truly: Come, pray, stand out
of my spitting Place.

_Neverout._ Well; but, Miss, don’t be angry.

_Miss._ No; I was never angry in my Life but once, and then nobody car’d
for it; so I resolv’d never to be angry again.

_Neverout._ Well; but if you’ll tie it, you shall never know what I’ll do
for you.

_Miss._ So I suppose, truly.

_Neverout._ Well; but I’ll make you a fine Present one of these Days.

_Miss._ Ay; when the Devil’s blind; and his Eyes are not sore yet.

_Neverout._ No, Miss; I’ll send it you To-morrow.

_Miss._ Well, well: To-morrow’s a new Day; but I suppose, you mean,
Tomorrow-come-never.

_Neverout._ Oh! ’tis the prettiest Thing: I assure you, there came but
Two of them over in Three Ships.

_Miss._ Would I could see it, quoth blind _Hugh_. But why did you not
bring me a Present of Snuff this Morning?

_Neverout._ Because, Miss, you never ask’d me; and ’tis an ill Dog that’s
not worth whistling for.

_Ld. Sparkish._ [_to Lady Answ._] Pray, Madam, how came your Ladyship
last _Thursday_ to go to that odious Puppet-show?

_Col._ Why, to be sure, her Ladyship went to see, and to be seen.

_Lady Answ._ You have made a fine Speech, Colonel: Pray, what will you
take for your Mouth-piece?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Take that, Colonel: But, pray, Madam, was my Lady _Snuff_
there? They say, she is extremely handsome.

_Lady Smart._ They must not see with my Eyes, that think so.

_Neverout._ She may pass Muster well enough.

_Lady Answ._ Pray, how old do you take her to be?

_Col._ Why, about Five or Six and Twenty.

_Miss._ I swear, she’s no Chicken; she’s on the wrong Side of Thirty, if
she be a Day.

_Lady Answ._ Depend upon it, she’ll never see Five and Thirty, and a Bit
to spare.

_Col._ Why, they say, she’s one of the chief Toasts in Town.

_Lady Smart._ Ay, when all the rest are out of it.

_Miss._ Well; I wou’dn’t be as sick as she’s proud, for all the World.

_Lady Answ._ She looks, as if Butter wou’dn’t melt in her Mouth; but I
warrant, Cheese won’t choak her. I hear, my Lord What-d’ye-call-him is
courting her.

_Ld. Sparkish._ What Lord d’ye mean, _Tom_?

_Miss._ Why, my Lord, I suppose, Mr. _Neverout_ means the Lord of the
Lord knows what.

_Col._ They say, she dances very fine.

_Lady Answ._ She did; but, I doubt, her Dancing Days are over.

_Col._ I can’t pardon her, for her Rudeness to me.

_Lady Smart._ Well; but you must forget and forgive.

    [——Footman _comes in_.——

_Lady Smart._ Did you call _Betty_?

_Footman._ She’s coming, Madam.

_Lady Smart._ Coming! ay, so is _Christmas_.

    [——Betty _comes in_.——

_Lady Smart._ Come, get ready my Things. Where has the Wench been these
Three Hours?

_Betty._ Madam, I can’t go faster than my Legs will carry me.

_Lady Smart._ Ay, thou hast a Head, and so has a Pin. But, my Lord,
all the Town has it, that Miss _Caper_ is to be married to Sir _Peter
Giball_; one thing is certain, that she hath promis’d to have him.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Madam, you know Promises are either broken or kept.

_Lady Answ._ I beg your Pardon, my Lord; Promises and Pye-crust are made
to be broken.

_Lady Smart._ Nay, I had it from my Lady _Carry-lye_’s own Mouth. I tell
you my Tale, and my Tale’s Author; if it be a Lye, you had it as cheap as
I.

_Lady Answ._ She and I had some Words last _Sunday_ at Church; but, I
think, I gave her her own.

_Lady Smart._ Her Tongue runs like the Clapper of a Mill; she talks
enough for herself and all the Company.

_Neverout._ And yet she simpers like a Firmity-Kettle.

    [——Miss _looking in a Glass_.——

_Miss._ Lord, how my Head is drest To-day!

_Col._ Oh, Madam! a good Face needs no Band.

_Miss._ No; and a bad one deserves none.

_Col._ Pray, Miss, where is your old Acquaintance, Mrs. _Wayward_?

_Miss._ Why, where should she be? You must needs know; she’s in her Skin.

_Col._ I can answer that: What if you were as far out as she’s in?——

_Miss._ Well, I promis’d to go this Evening to _Hyde-Park_ on the Water;
but, I protest, I’m half afraid.

_Neverout._ Never fear, Miss; you have the old Proverb on your Side,
Naught’s ne’er in Danger.

_Col._ Why, Miss, let _Tom Neverout_ wait on you; and then, I warrant,
you’ll be as safe as a Thief in a Mill; for you know, he that’s born to
be hang’d, will never be drowned.

_Neverout._ Thank you, Colonel, for your good Word; but, faith, if ever I
hang, it shall be about a fair Lady’s Neck.

_Lady Smart._ Who’s there? Bid the Children be quiet, and not laugh so
loud.

_Lady Answ._ Oh, Madam! let’ em laugh; they’ll ne’er laugh younger.

_Neverout._ Miss, I’ll tell you a Secret, if you’ll promise never to tell
it again.

_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.

_Miss._ If it had been a Bear, it would have bit you, Colonel: Well, I
wish, I had such a Snuff-box.

_Neverout._ You’ll be long enough before you wish your Skin full of
Eyelet-Holes.

_Col._ Wish in one Hand,——

_Miss._ Out upon you: Lord, what can the Man mean?

_Ld. Sparkish._ This Tea’s very hot.

_Lady Answ._ Why, it came from a hot Place, my Lord.

    [——Colonel _spills his Tea_.——

_Lady Smart._ That’s as well done as if I had done it myself.

_Col._ Madam, I find, you live by ill Neighbours; when you are forc’d to
praise yourself.

_Lady Smart._ So they pray’d me to tell you.

_Neverout._ Well, I won’t drink a Drop more; if I do, ’twill go down like
chopt Hay.

_Miss._ Pray, don’t say No, till you are ask’d.

_Neverout._ Well, what you please, and the rest again.

    [——Miss _stooping for a Pin_.——

_Miss._ I have heard ’em say, that a Pin a Day is a Groat a Year. Well,
as I hope to be married, forgive me for swearing; I vow, ’tis a Needle.

_Col._ Oh! the wonderful Works of Nature: That a black Hen should have a
white Egg!

_Neverout._ What! you have found a Mare’s Nest; and laugh at the Eggs.

_Miss._ Pray, keep your Breath to cool your Porridge.

_Neverout._ Miss, there was a very pleasant Accident last Night in St.
_James_’s Park.

_Miss._ [_to Lady Smart._] What was it your Ladyship was going to say
just now?

_Neverout._ Well, Miss; tell a Mare a Tale——

_Miss._ I find, you love to hear yourself talk.

_Neverout._ Why, if you won’t hear my Tale, kiss my, _&c._

_Miss._ Out upon you, for a filthy Creeter!

_Neverout._ What, Miss! must I tell you a Story, and find you Ears?

_Ld. Sparkish._ [_to Lady Smart._] Pray, Madam, don’t you think Mrs.
_Spendal_ very genteel?

_Lady Smart._ Why, my Lord, I think she was cut out for a Gentlewoman,
but she was spoil’d in the Making: She wears her Cloaths, as if they were
thrown on her with a Pitch-Fork; and, for the Fashion, I believe they
were made in the Reign of Queen _Bess_.

_Neverout._ Well, that’s neither here nor there; for you know, the more
careless, the more modish.

_Col._ Well, I’d hold a Wager, there will be a Match between her and
_Dick Dolt_; and I believe, I can see as far into a Millstone as another
Man.

_Miss._ Colonel, I must beg your Pardon a Thousand Times; but they say,
An old Ape has an old Eye.

_Neverout._ Miss, what do you mean! you’ll spoil the Colonel’s Marriage,
if you call him old.

_Col._ Not so old, nor yet so cold. You know the rest, Miss.

_Miss._ Manners is a fine Thing, truly.

_Col._ Faith, Miss, depend upon it, I’ll give you as good as you bring:
What! if you give a Jest, you must take a Jest.

_Lady Smart._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, you’ll ne’er have done till you break
that Knife; and then the Man won’t take it again.

_Miss._ Why, Madam, Fools will be medling; I wish, he may cut his
Fingers; I hope, you can see your own Blood without fainting.

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, you shine this Morning like a —— Barn-door; you’ll
never hold out at this Rate; pray, save a little Wit for To-morrow.

_Miss._ Well, you have said your Say; if People will be rude, I have
done; my Comfort is, ’twill be all one a thousand Year hence.

_Neverout._ Miss, you have shot your Bolt: I find, you must have the last
Word.—Well, I’ll go to the Opera To-night.—No, I can’t neither, for I
have some Business—and yet I think I must, for I promis’d to squire the
Countess to her Box.

_Miss._ The Countess of _Puddledock_, I suppose.

_Neverout._ Peace, or War, Miss?

_Lady Smart._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, you’ll never be mad, you are of so
many Minds.

    [——_As_ Miss _rises, the Chair falls behind her_.——

_Miss._ Well; I shan’t be Lady-Mayoress this Year.

_Neverout._ No, Miss; ’tis worse than that; you won’t be marry’d this
Year.

_Miss._ Lord! you make me laugh, tho’ I a’n’t well.

    [——Neverout, _as_ Miss _is standing, pulls her suddenly on his
    Lap_.——

_Neverout._ Now, Colonel, come, sit down on my Lap; more Sacks upon the
Mill.

_Miss._ Let me go; ar’n’t you sorry for my Heaviness?

_Neverout._ No, Miss; you are very light; but I don’t say, you are a
light Hussy. Pray, take up the Chair for your Pains.

_Miss._ ’Tis but one body’s Labour, you may do it yourself: I wish, you
would be quiet, you have more Tricks than a Dancing Bear.

    [——Neverout _rises to take up the Chair, and_ Miss _sits in
    his_.——

_Neverout._ You wou’dn’t be so soon in my Grave, Madam.

_Miss._ Lord! I have torn my Petticoat with your odious Romping; my Rents
are coming in; I’m afraid, I shall fall into the Ragman’s Hands.

_Neverout._ I’ll mend it, Miss.

_Miss._ You mend it! go, teach your Grannam to suck Eggs.

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, you are so cross, I could find in my Heart to hate
you.

_Miss._ With all my Heart; there will be no Love lost between us.

_Neverout._ But, pray, my Lady _Smart_, does not Miss look as if she
could eat me without Salt?

_Miss._ I’ll make you one Day sup Sorrow for this.

_Neverout._ Well, follow your own Way, you’ll live the longer.

_Miss._ See, Madam, how well I have mended it.

_Lady Smart._ ’Tis indifferent, as _Doll_ danc’d.

_Neverout._ ’Twill last as many Nights as Days.

_Miss._ Well, I knew, I should never have your good Word.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord, my Lady _Answerall_ and I was walking in the Park
last Night till near Eleven; ’twas a very fine Night.

_Neverout._ Egad so was I; and I’ll tell you a comical Accident; egad, I
lost my Under-standing.

_Miss._ I’m glad you had any to lose.

_Lady Smart._ Well, but what do you mean?

_Neverout._ Egad, I kick’d my Foot against a Stone, and tore off the Heel
of my Shoe, and was forc’d to limp to a Cobler in the _Pall Mall_, to
have it put on. He, he, he.

    [_All laugh._

_Col._ Oh! ’twas a delicate Night to run away with another Man’s Wife.

    [——Neverout _sneezes_.——

_Miss._ God bless you, if you ha’n’t taken Snuff.

_Neverout._ Why, what if I have, Miss?

_Miss._ Why, then, the Duce take you.

_Neverout._ Miss, I want that Diamond-Ring of yours.

_Miss._ Why, then, Want’s like to be your Master.

    [——Neverout _looking at the Ring_.——

_Neverout._ Ay, marry, this is not only but also; where did you get it?

_Miss._ Why, where ’twas to be had; where the Devil got the Friar.

_Neverout._ Well; if I had such a fine Diamond-Ring, I woudn’t stay a
Day in _England_: But you know, far-fetch’d and dear-bought is fit for
Ladies. I warrant, this cost your Father Twopence half-penny.

    [——Miss _sitting between_ Neverout _and the_ Colonel.——

_Miss._ Well; here’s a Rose between Two Nettles.

_Neverout._ No, Madam; with Submission, here’s a Nettle between Two Roses.

    [——Colonel _stretching himself_.——

_Lady Smart._ Why, Colonel, you break the King’s Laws; you stretch
without a Halter.

_Lady Answ._ Colonel, some Ladies of your Acquaintance have promis’d to
breakfast with you, and I am to wait on them; what will you give us?

_Col._ Why, faith, Madam, Batchelors Fare; Bread and Cheese, and Kisses.

_Lady Answ._ Poh! what have you Batchelors to do with your Money, but to
treat the Ladies? you have nothing to keep but your own Four Quarters.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord, has Captain _Brag_ the Honour to be related to
your Lordship?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Very nearly, Madam; he’s my Cousin-German quite remov’d.

_Lady Answ._ Pray, is he not rich?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay, a rich Rogue, Two Shirts and a Rag.

_Col._ Well, however, they say, he has a great Estate, but only the Right
Owner keeps him out of it.

_Lady Smart._ What Religion is he of?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, he is an _Anythingarian_.

_Lady Answ._ I believe, he has his Religion to chuse, my Lord.

    [——Neverout _scratches his Neck_.——

_Miss._ Fie, Mr. _Neverout_, ar’n’t you asham’d! I beg Pardon for
the Expression, but I’m afraid, your Bosom-friends are become your
Back-biters.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss, I saw a Flea once on your Pinner, and a L—— is a
Man’s Companion, but a Flea is a Dog’s Companion: However, I wish, you
would scratch my Neck with your pretty white Hand.

_Miss._ And who would be Fool then? I wou’dn’t touch a Man’s Flesh for
the Universe: You have the wrong Sow by the Ear, I assure you! that’s
Meat for your Master.

_Neverout._ Miss _Notable_, all Quarrels laid aside, pray, step hither
for a Moment.

_Miss._ I’ll wash my Hands, and wait on you, Sir; but, pray, come hither,
and try to open this Lock.

_Neverout._ We’ll try what we can do.

_Miss._ We:——What, have you Pigs in your Belly?

_Neverout._ Miss, I assure you, I am very handy at all Things.

_Miss._ Marry, hang them that can’t give themselves a good Word: I
believe, you may have an even Hand to throw a L—— in the Fire.

_Col._ Well, I must be plain; here’s a very bad Smell.

_Miss._ Perhaps, Colonel, the Fox is the Finder.

_Neverout._ No, Colonel; ’tis only your Teeth against Rain: But——

_Miss._ Colonel, I find, you would make a very bad poor Man’s Sow.

    [——Colonel _coughing_.——

_Col._ I have got a sad Cold.

_Lady Answ._ Ay; ’tis well if one can get any thing these hard Times.

_Miss._ [_to Col._] Choak, Chicken; there’s more a hatching.

_Lady Smart._ Pray, Colonel, how did you get that Cold?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Madam, I suppose, the Colonel got it, by lying a Bed
barefoot.

_Lady Answ._ Why, then, Colonel, you must take it for better for worse,
as a Man takes his Wife.

_Col._ Well, Ladies, I apprehend you without a Constable.

_Miss._ Mr. _Neverout_! Mr. _Neverout_! come hither this Moment!

_Lady Smart._ [_imitating her._] Mr. _Neverout_, Mr. _Neverout_! I wish,
he were tied to your Girdle.

_Neverout._ What’s the Matter! whose Mare’s dead now?

_Miss._ Take your Labour for your Pains; you may go back again, like a
Fool, as you came.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss; if you deceive me a second time, ’tis my Fault.

_Lady Smart._ Colonel, methinks your Coat is too short.

_Col._ It will be long enough before I get another, Madam.

_Miss._ Come, come; the Coat’s a good Coat, and come of good Friends.

_Neverout._ Ladies, you are mistaken in the Stuff; ’tis half Silk.

_Col._ _Tom Neverout_, you are a Fool, and that’s your Fault.

    [——_A great Noise below._——

_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.

_Lady Smart._ No, keep it, Miss; for they say, Possession is Eleven
Points of the Law.

_Miss._ Madam, he shall ne’er have it again; ’tis in Hucksters Hands.

_Lady Answ._ What! I see ’tis Raining again.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, then, Madam, we must do, as they do in _Spain_.

_Miss._ Pray, my Lord, how is that?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Madam, we must let it rain.

    [——Miss _whispers Lady_ Smart.——

_Neverout._ There’s no Whispering, but there’s Lying.

_Miss._ Lord! Mr. _Neverout_, you are as pert as a Pearmonger this
Morning.

_Neverout._ Indeed, Miss, you are very handsome.

_Miss._ Poh! I know that already; tell me News.

    [——_Somebody knocks at the Door._—— Footman _comes in_.

_Footman._ [_to Col._] An please your Honour, there’s a Man below wants
to speak to you.

_Col._ Ladies, your Pardon for a Minute.

    [Col. _goes out_.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, I sent yesterday to know how you did, but you were
gone abroad early.

_Miss._ Why, indeed, Madam, I was hunch’d up in a Hackney-Coach with
Three Country Acquaintance, who call’d upon me to take the Air as far as
_Highgate_.

_Lady Smart._ And had you a pleasant Airing?

_Miss._ No, Madam; it rain’d all the Time; I was jolted to Death, and
the Road was so bad, that I scream’d every Moment, and call’d to the
Coachman, Pray, Friend, don’t spill us.

_Neverout._ So, Miss, you were afraid, that Pride wou’d have a Fall.

_Miss._ Mr. _Neverout_, when I want a Fool, I’ll send for you.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Miss, didn’t your Left Ear burn last Night?

_Miss._ Pray, why, my Lord?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Because I was then in some Company where you were
extoll’d to the Skies, I assure you.

_Miss._ My Lord, that was more their Goodness, than my Desert.

_Ld. Sparkish._ They said, that you were a complete Beauty.

_Miss._ My Lord, I am as God made me.

_Lady Smart._ The Girl’s well enough, if she had but another Nose.

_Miss._ Oh! Madam, I know I shall always have your good Word; you love to
help a lame Dog over the Style.

    [——_One knocks._——

_Lady Smart._ Who’s there? you’re on the wrong Side of the Door; come in,
if you be fat.

    [——Colonel _comes in again_.——

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Colonel, you are a Man of great Business.

_Col._ Ay, ay, my Lord, I’m like my Lord Mayor’s Fool; full of Business,
and nothing to do.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord, don’t you think the Colonel mightily fall’n away
of late?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay; fall’n from a Horse-load to a Cart-load.

_Col._ Why, my Lord, egad I am like a Rabbit, fat and lean in
Four-and-twenty Hours.

_Lady Smart._ I assure you, the Colonel walks as strait as a Pin.

_Miss._ Yes; he’s a handsome-body’d Man in the Face.

_Neverout._ A handsome Foot and Leg: God-a-mercy Shoe and Stocking!

_Col._ What! Three upon One! that’s foul Play: This wou’d make a Parson
swear.

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, what’s the Matter? You look as if you had neither
won nor lost.

_Col._ Why, you must know, Miss lives upon Love.

_Miss._ Yes; upon Love and Lumps of the Cupboard.

_Lady Answ._ Ay; they say, Love and Peas-porridge are two dangerous
Things; one breaks the Heart, and the other the Belly.

_Miss._ [_imitating Lady_ Answerall’_s Tone._] Very pretty! One breaks
the Heart, and the other the Belly.

_Lady Answ._ Have a Care; they say, mocking is catching.

_Miss._ I never heard that.

_Neverout._ Why, then, Miss, you have a Wrinkle——more than ever you had
before.

_Miss._ Well; live and learn.

_Neverout._ Ay; and be hang’d, and forget all.

_Miss._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, take it as you please; but I swear, you are
a saucy Jack, to use such Expressions.

_Neverout._ Why, then, Miss, if you go to that, I must tell you, there’s
ne’er a Jack but there’s a Jill.

_Miss._ Oh! Mr. _Neverout_; every body knows that you are the Pink of
Courtesy.

_Neverout._ And, Miss, all the World allows, that you are the Flower of
Civility.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, I hear there was a great deal of Company where you
visited last Night: Pray, who were they?

_Miss._ Why, there was old Lady _Forward_, Miss _To-and-again_, Sir _John
Ogle_, my Lady _Clapper_, and I, quoth the Dog.

_Col._ Was your Visit long, Miss?

_Miss._ Why, truly, they went all to the Opera; and so poor Pilgarlick
came Home alone.

_Neverout._ Alack a day, poor Miss! methinks it grieves me to pity you.

_Miss._ What, you think, you said a fine Thing now; well, if I had a Dog
with no more Wit, I would hang him.

_Ld. Smart._ Miss, if it be Manners, may I ask, which is oldest, you or
Lady _Scuttle_?

_Miss._ Why, my Lord, when I die for Age, she may quake for Fear.

_Lady Smart._ She’s a very great Gadder abroad.

_Lady Answ._ Lord! she made me follow her last Week through all the Shops
like a Tantiny Pig.

_Lady Smart._ I remember, you told me, you had been with her from _Dan_
to _Beersheba_.

    [——Colonel _spits_.——

_Col._ Lord! I shall die; I cannot spit from me.

_Miss._ Oh! Mr. _Neverout_, my little Countess has just litter’d; speak
me fair, and I’ll set you down for a Puppy.

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, if I speak you fair, perhaps I mayn’t tell Truth.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay, but _Tom_, smoke that, she calls you Puppy by Craft.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss, you ride the Fore-horse To-day.

_Miss._ Ay, many a one says well, that thinks ill.

_Neverout._ Fie, Miss! you said that once before; and, you know, Too much
of one Thing is good for nothing.

_Miss._ Why, sure, we can’t say a good Thing too often.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well, so much for that, and Butter for Fish; let us call
another Cause: Pray, Madam, does your Ladyship know Mrs. _Nice_?

_Lady Smart._ Perfectly well, my Lord; she’s nice by Name, and nice by
Nature.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Is it possible, she could take that Booby _Tom Blunder_
for Love?

_Miss._ She had good Skill in Horse-flesh, that could chuse a Goose to
ride on.

_Lady Answ._ Why, my Lord, ’twas her Fate; they say, Marriage and Hanging
go by Destiny.

_Col._ I believe she’ll never be burnt for a Witch.

_Ld. Sparkish._ They say, Marriages are made in Heaven; but I doubt, when
she was married, she had no Friend there.

_Neverout._ Well, she’s got out of God’s Blessing into the warm Sun.

_Col._ The Fellow’s well enough, if he had any Guts in his Brains.

_Lady Smart._ They say, thereby hangs a Tale.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, he’s a mere Hobbledehoy, neither a Man nor a Boy.

_Miss._ Well, if I were to chuse a Husband, I would never be married to a
little Man.

_Neverout._ Pray, why so, Miss? for they say, of all Evils we ought to
chuse the least.

_Miss._ Because Folks would say, when they saw us together, There goes
the Woman and her Husband.

_Col._ [_to Lady Smart._] Will your Ladyship be on the _Mall_ To-morrow
Night?

_Lady Smart._ No, that won’t be proper; you know, To-morrow’s _Sunday_?

_Ld. Sparkish._ What then, Madam! they say, the better Day, the better
Deed.

_Lady Answ._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, how do you like Lady _Fruzz_?

_Neverout._ Pox on her! she’s as old as _Poles_.

_Miss._ So will you be, if you ben’t hang’d when you’re young.

_Neverout._ Come, Miss, let us be Friends: Will you go to the Park this
Evening?

_Miss._ With all my Heart, and a Piece of my Liver; but not with you.

_Lady Smart._ I’ll tell you one thing, and that’s not two; I’m afraid I
shall get a Fit of the Headach To-day.

_Col._ Oh! Madam, don’t be afraid, it comes with a Fright.

_Miss._ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam; one of your Ladyship’s Lappets is longer
than t’other.

_Lady Answ._ Well, no Matter; they that ride on a trotting Horse will
ne’er perceive it.

_Neverout._ Indeed, Miss, your Lappets hang worse.

_Miss._ Well, I love a Lyar in my Heart, and you fit me to a Hair.

    [——Miss _rises up_.——

_Neverout._ Duce take you, Miss! you trod on my Foot: I hope you don’t
intend to come to my Bedside.

_Miss._ In Troth, you are afraid of your Friends, and none of them near
you.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well said, Girl! [_giving her a Chuck._] Take that; they
say, a Chuck under the Chin is worth Two Kisses.

_Lady Answ._ But, Mr. _Neverout_, I wonder why such a handsome, strait,
young Gentleman as you, do not get some rich Widow.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Strait! Ay, strait as my Leg, and that’s crooked at Knee.

_Neverout._ Faith, Madam, if it rain’d rich Widows, none of them would
fall upon me. Egad, I was born under a Threepenny Planet, never to be
worth a Groat.

_Lady Answ._ No, Mr. _Neverout_; I believe you were born with a Cawl on
your Head; you are such a Favourite among the Ladies: But what think you
of Widow _Prim_? she’s immensely rich.

_Neverout._ Hang her! they say, her Father was a Baker.

_Lady Smart._ Ay; but it is not what is she? but what has she? now-a-days.

_Col._ _Tom_, faith, put on a bold Face for once, and have at the Widow.
I’ll speak a good Word for you to her.

_Lady Answ._ Ay; I warrant, you’ll speak one Word for him, and two for
yourself.

_Miss._ Well; I had that at my Tongue’s End.

_Lady Answ._ Why, Miss, they say, good Wits jump.

_Neverout._ Faith, Madam, I had rather marry a Woman I lov’d, in her
Smock, than Widow _Prim_, if she had her Weight in Gold.

_Lady Smart._ Come, come, Mr. _Neverout_; Marriage is honourable, but
Housekeeping is a Shrew.

_Lady Answ._ Consider, Mr. _Neverout_, Four bare Legs in a Bed; and you
are a younger Brother.

_Col._ Well, Madam; the younger Brother is the better Gentleman: However,
_Tom_, I would advise you to look before you leap.

_Ld. Sparkish._ The Colonel says true: Besides, you can’t expect to wive
and thrive in the same Year.

_Miss._ [_shuddering._] Lord! there’s somebody walking over my Grave.

_Col._ Pray, Lady _Answerall_, where was you last _Wednesday_, when I did
myself the Honour to wait on you? I think, your Ladyship is one of the
Tribe of _Gad_.

_Lady Answ._ Why, Colonel, I was at Church.

_Col._ Nay, then will I be hang’d, and my Horse too.

_Neverout._ I believe her Ladyship was at a Church with a Chimney in it.

_Miss._ Lord, my Petticoat! how it hangs by Jommetry.

_Neverout._ Perhaps the Fault may be in your Shape.

_Miss._ [_looking gravely._] Come, Mr. _Neverout_, there’s no Jest like
the true Jest; but, I suppose, you think my Back’s broad enough to bear
every Thing.

_Neverout._ Madam, I humbly beg your Pardon.

_Miss._ Well, Sir, your Pardon’s granted.

_Neverout._ Well, all Things have an End, and a Pudden has two, up-up-on
my-my-my Word. [_stutters._]

_Miss._ What! Mr. _Neverout_, can’t you speak without a Spoon?

_Ld. Sparkish._ [_to Lady Smart._] Has your Ladyship seen the Duchess
since your falling out?

_Lady Smart._ Never, my Lord, but once at a Visit; and she look’d at me,
as the Devil look’d over _Lincoln_.

_Neverout._ Pray, Miss, take a Pinch of my Snuff.

_Miss._ What! you break my Head, and give me a Plaister; well, with all
my Heart; once, and not use it.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss; if you wanted me and your Victuals, you’d want
your Two best Friends.

_Col._ [_to Neverout._] _Tom_, Miss and you must kiss, and be Friends.

    [Neverout _salutes_ Miss.

_Miss._ Any thing for a quiet Life: my Nose itch’d, and I knew I should
drink Wine, or kiss a Fool.

_Col._ Well, _Tom_, if that ben’t fair, hang fair.

_Neverout._ I never said a rude Thing to a Lady in my Life.

_Miss._ Here’s a Pin for that Lye; I’m sure Lyars had need of good
Memories. Pray, Colonel, was not he very uncivil to me but just now?

_Lady Answ._ Mr. _Neverout_, if Miss will be angry for nothing, take my
Council, and bid her turn the Buckle of her Girdle behind her.

_Neverout._ Come, Lady _Answerall_, I know better Things; Miss and I are
good Friends; don’t put Tricks upon Travellers.

_Col._ _Tom_, not a Word of the Pudden, I beg you.

_Lady Smart._ Ah, Colonel! you’ll never be good, nor then neither.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Which of the Goods d’ye mean? good for something, or good
for nothing?

_Miss._ I have a Blister on my Tongue; yet, I don’t remember, I told a
Lye.

_Lady Answ._ I thought you did just now.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Madam, what did Thought do?

_Lady Answ._ Well, for my Life, I cannot conceive what your Lordship
means.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Indeed, Madam, I meant no Harm.

_Lady Smart._ No, to be sure, my Lord! you are as innocent as a Devil of
Two Years old.

_Neverout._ Madam, they say, ill Doers are ill Deemers: but I don’t apply
it to your Ladyship.

    [Miss _mending a Hole in her Lace_.

_Miss._ Well, you see, I’m mending; I hope I shall be good in time; look,
Lady _Answerall_, is not it well mended?

_Lady Answ._ Ay, this is something like a Tansy.

_Neverout._ Faith, Miss, you have mended it, as a Tinker mends a Kettle;
stop one Hole, and make two.

_Lady Smart._ Pray, Colonel, are not you very much tann’d?

_Col._ Yes, Madam; but a Cup of _Christmas_ Ale will soon wash it off.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Lady _Smart_, does not your Ladyship think, Mrs. _Fade_
is mightily alter’d since her Marriage?

_Lady Answ._ Why, my Lord, she was handsome in her Time; but she cannot
eat her Cake, and have her Cake: I hear she’s grown a mere Otomy.

_Lady Smart._ Poor Creature! the Black has set his Foot upon her already.

_Miss._ Ay! she has quite lost the Blue on the Plumb.

_Lady Smart._ And yet, they say, her Husband is very fond of her still.

_Lady Answ._ Oh! Madam; if she would eat Gold, he would give it her.

_Neverout._ [_to Lady Smart._] Madam, have you heard, that Lady _Queasy_
was lately at the Playhouse _incog._?

_Lady Smart._ What! Lady _Queasy_ of all Women in the World! Do you say
it upon Rep?

_Neverout._ Poz, I saw her with my own Eyes; she sat among the Mob in the
Gallery; her own ugly Fiz: And she saw me look at her.

_Col._ Her Ladyship was plaguily bamb’d; I warrant, it put her into the
Hipps.

_Neverout._ I smoked her huge Nose, and egad she put me in mind of the
Woodcock, that strives to hide his long Bill, and then thinks nobody sees
him.

_Col._ _Tom_, I advise you hold your Tongue; for you’ll never say so good
a Thing again.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, what are you looking for?

_Miss._ Oh! Madam; I have lost the finest Needle——

_Lady Answ._ Why, seek till you find it, and then you won’t lose your
Labour.

_Neverout._ The Loop of my Hat is broke; how shall I mend it? [_he
fastens it with a Pin._] Well, hang them, say I, that has no Shift.

_Miss._ Ay, and hang him, that has one too many.

_Neverout._ Oh! Miss; I have heard a sad Story of you.

_Miss._ I defy you, Mr. _Neverout_; nobody can say, Black’s my Eye.

_Neverout._ I believe, you wish they could.

_Miss._ Well; but who was your Author? Come, tell Truth, and shame the
Devil.

_Neverout._ Come then, Miss; guess who it was that told me; come, put on
your Considering-cap.

_Miss._ Well, who was it?

_Neverout._ Why, one that lives within a Mile of an Oak.

_Miss._ Well, go hang yourself in your own Garters; for I’m sure, the
Gallows groans for you.

_Neverout._ Pretty Miss! I was but in Jest.

_Miss._ Well, but don’t let that stick in your Gizzard.

_Col._ My Lord, does your Lordship know Mrs. _Talkall_?

_Ld. Smart._ Only by Sight; but I hear she has a great deal of Wit; and
egad, as the Saying is, Mettle to the Back.

_Lady Smart._ So I hear.

_Col._ Why _Dick Lubber_ said to her t’other Day, Madam, you can’t cry
Bo to a Goose: Yes, but I can, said she; and, egad, cry’d Bo full in his
Face: We all thought we should break our Hearts with laughing.

_Ld. Sparkish._ That was cutting with a Vengeance: and pr’ythee how did
the Fool look?

_Col._ Look? Egad he look’d for all the World like an Owl in an Ivy Bush.

    [_A Child comes in screaming._

_Miss._ Well, if that Child was mine, I’d whip it till the Blood came;
Peace, you little Vixen! if I were near you, I would not be far from you.

_Lady Smart._ Ay, ay; Batchelors Wives and Maids Children are finely
tutor’d.

_Lady Answ._ Come to me, Master; and I’ll give you a Sugar-Plumb. Why,
Miss, you forgot that ever you was a Child yourself. [_She gives the
Child a Lump of Sugar._] I have heard ’em say, Boys will long.

_Col._ My Lord, I suppose you know, that Mr. _Buzzard_ has married again?

_Lady Smart._ This is his Fourth Wife; then he has been shod round.

_Col._ Why, you must know, she had a Month’s Mind to _Dick Frontless_,
and thought to run away with him; but her Parents forc’d her to take the
old Fellow for a good Settlement.

_Ld. Sparkish._ So the Man got his Mare again.

_Ld. Smart._ I’m told he said a very good thing to _Dick_; said he, You
think us old Fellows are Fools; but we old Fellows know young Fellows are
Fools.

_Col._ I know nothing of that; but I know, he’s devilish old, and she’s
very young.

_Lady Answ._ Why, they call that a Match of the World’s making.

_Miss._ What if he had been young, and she old?

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, that would have been a Match of the Devil’s
making; but when both are young, that’s a Match of God’s making.

    [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_.

_Lady Smart._ Here, come back, you Fellow; why did you leave the Door
open? Remember, that a good Servant must always come when he’s call’d, do
what he’s bid, and shut the Door after him.

    [_The_ Footman _goes out again, and falls down Stairs_.

_Lady Answ._ Neck or nothing; come down, or I’ll fetch you down: Well,
but I hope, the poor Fellow has not sav’d the Hangman a Labour.

_Neverout._ Pray, Madam, smoke Miss yonder biting her Lips, and playing
with her Fan.

_Miss._ Who’s that takes my Name in vain?

    [_She runs up to them, and falls down._

_Lady Smart._ What, more falling! do you intend the Frolick should go
round?

_Lady Answ._ Why, Miss, I wish you may not have broke her Ladyship’s
Floor.

_Neverout._ Miss, come to me, and I’ll take you up.

_Lady Sparkish._ Well, but without a Jest, I hope, Miss, you are not hurt.

_Col._ Nay, she must be hurt for certain; for you see, her Head is all of
a Lump.

_Miss._ Well, remember this, Colonel, when I have Money, and you have
none.

_Lady Smart._ But, Colonel, when do you design to get a House, and a
Wife, and a Fire to put her in?

_Miss._ Lord! who would be marry’d to a Soldier, and carry his Knapsack?

_Neverout._ Oh! Madam: _Mars_ and _Venus_, you know.

_Col._ Egad, Madam, I’d marry To-morrow, if I thought I could bury my
Wife just when the Honey-Moon is over; but they say, A Woman has as many
Lives as a Cat.

_Lady Answ._ I find, the Colonel thinks, a dead Wife under the Table is
the best Goods in a Man’s House.

_Lady Smart._ O but, Colonel, if you had a good Wife, it would break your
Heart to part with her.

_Col._ Yes, Madam; for they say, he that has lost his Wife and Sixpence,
has lost a Tester.

_Lady Smart._ But, Colonel, they say, that every marry’d Man should
believe there’s but one good Wife in the World, and that’s his own.

_Col._ For all that, I doubt, a good Wife must be bespoke, for there is
none ready made.

_Miss._ I suppose, the Gentleman’s a Woman-Hater; but, Sir, I think, you
ought to remember, that you had a Mother: And pray, if it had not been
for a Woman, where would you have been, Colonel?

_Col._ Nay, Miss, you cry’d W——e first, when you talk’d of the Knapsack.

_Lady Answ._ But I hope you won’t blame the whole Sex, because some are
bad.

_Neverout._ And they say, he that hates Woman, suck’d a Sow.

_Col._ Oh! Madam; there’s no general Rule without an Exception.

_Lady Smart._ Then, why don’t you marry, and settle?

_Col._ Egad, Madam, there’s nothing will settle me but a Bullet.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well, Colonel, there’s one Comfort, that you need not
fear a Cannon-Bullet.

_Col._ Why so, my Lord?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Because they say, he was curs’d in his Mother’s Belly,
that was kill’d by a Cannon-Bullet.

_Miss._ I suppose, the Colonel was cross’d in his first Love, which makes
him so severe on all the Sex.

_Lady Answ._ Yes; and I’ll hold a hundred to one, that the Colonel has
been over Head and Ears in Love with some Lady, that has made his Heart
ake.

_Col._ Oh! Madam, We Soldiers are Admirers of all the fair Sex.

_Miss._ I wish, I could see the Colonel in Love, till he was ready to
die.

_Lady Smart._ Ay; but I doubt, few People die for Love in these days.

_Neverout._ Well, I confess, I differ from the Colonel; for I hope to
have a rich and a handsome Wife yet before I die.

_Col._ Ay, _Tom_; live Horse, and thou shalt have Grass.

_Miss._ Well, Colonel; but whatever you say against Women, they are
better Creatures than Men; for Men were made of Clay, but Woman was made
of Man.

_Col._ Miss, you may say what you please; but, faith, you’ll never lead
Apes in Hell.

_Neverout._ No, no; I’ll be sworn Miss has not an Inch of Nun’s Flesh
about her.

_Miss._ I understumble you, Gentlemen.

_Neverout._ Madam, your humble-cum-dumble.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Miss, when did you see your old Acquaintance Mrs.
_Cloudy_? You and She are Two, I hear.

_Miss._ See her! marry, I don’t care whether I ever see her again, God
bless my Eye-sight.

_Lady Answ._ Lord! why she and you were as great as two Inkle-weavers.
I’ve seen her hug you, as the Devil hug’d the Witch.

_Miss._ That’s true; but I’m told for certain, she’s no better than she
should be.

_Lady Smart._ Well, God mend us all; but you must allow, the World is
very censorious: I never heard that she was a naughty Pack.

_Col._ [_to Neverout._] Come, Sir _Thomas_, when the King pleases; when
do you intend to march?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Have Patience. _Tom_, is your Friend _Ned Rattle_ marry’d?

_Neverout._ Yes, faith, my Lord; he has tied a Knot with his Tongue, that
he can never untie with his Teeth.

_Lady Smart._ Ay; marry in Haste, and repent at Leisure.

_Lady Answ._ Has he got a good Fortune with his Lady? for they say,
Something has some Savour, but Nothing has no Flavour.

_Neverout._ Faith, Madam, all he gets by her, he may put into his Eye,
and see never the worse.

_Miss._ Then, I believe, he heartily wishes her in _Abraham_’s Bosom.

_Col._ Pray, my Lord, how does _Charles Limber_ and his fine Wife agree?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, they say, he’s the greatest Cuckold in Town.

_Neverout._ Oh! but my Lord, you should always except my Lord-Mayor.

_Miss._ Mr. _Neverout_!

_Neverout._ Hay, Madam, did you call me?

_Miss._ Hay; why, Hay is for Horses.

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, then you may kiss——

_Col._ Pray, my Lord, what’s a Clock by your Oracle?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Faith, I can’t tell, I think my Watch runs upon Wheels.

_Neverout._ Miss, pray be so kind to call a Servant to bring me a Glass
of Small Beer: I know you are at Home here.

_Miss._ Every Fool can do as they’re bid: Make a Page of your own Age,
and do it yourself.

_Neverout._ Chuse, proud Fool; I did but ask you.

    [Miss _puts her Hand to her Knee_.

_Neverout._ What! Miss, are you thinking of your Sweet-Heart? is your
Garter slipping down?

_Miss._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, keep your Breath to cool your Porridge;
you measure my Corn by your Bushel.

_Neverout._ Indeed, Miss, you lye.——

_Miss._ Did you ever hear any thing so rude?

_Neverout._ I mean, you lye——under a Mistake.

_Miss._ If a thousand Lyes could choak you, you would have been choaked
many a Day ago.

    [Miss _tries to snatch_ Neverout’_s Snuff-box_.

_Neverout._ Madam, you miss’d that, as you miss’d your Mother’s Blessing.

    [_She tries again, and misses._

_Neverout._ Snap short makes you look so lean, Miss.

_Miss._ Poh! you are so robustious, you had like to put out my Eye: I
assure you, if you blind me, you must lead me.

_Lady Smart._ Dear Miss, be quiet; and bring me a Pin-cushion out of that
Closet.

    [Miss _opens the Closet Door, and squalls_.

_Lady Smart._ Lord bless the Girl! what’s the Matter now?

_Miss._ I vow, Madam, I saw something in black, I thought it was a Spirit.

_Col._ Why, Miss, did you ever see a Spirit?

_Miss._ No, Sir; I thank God, I never saw any thing worse than myself.

_Neverout._ Well, I did a very foolish thing yesterday, and was a great
Puppy for my Pains.

_Miss._ Very likely; for, they say, many a true Word’s spoke in Jest.

    [Footman _returns_.

_Lady Smart._ Well, did you deliver your Message? You are fit to be sent
for Sorrow, you stay so long by the Way.

_Footman._ Madam, my Lady was not at Home, so I did not leave the Message.

_Lady Smart._ This is it to send a Fool of an Errand.

_Ld. Sparkish._ [_looking at his Watch._] ’Tis past Twelve a Clock.

_Lady Smart._ Well, what is that among all us?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Madam, I must take my Leave: Come, Gentlemen, are you for
a March?

_Lady Smart._ Well, but your Lordship and the Colonel will dine with us
To-day; and, Mr. _Neverout_, I hope, we shall have your good Company:
There will be no Soul else, besides my own Lord and these Ladies; for
every body knows, I hate a Croud; I would rather want Vittles than
Elbow-Room: We dine punctually at Three.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Madam, we’ll be sure to attend your Ladyship.

_Col._ Madam, my Stomach serves me instead of a Clock.

    [_Another_ Footman _comes back_.

_Lady Smart._ Oh! you are the t’other Fellow I sent: Well, have you been
with my Lady _Club_? You are good to send of a dead Man’s Errand.

_Footman._ Madam, my Lady _Club_ begs your Ladyship’s Pardon; but she is
engaged To-night.

_Miss._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, here’s the Back of my Hand to you.

_Neverout._ Miss, I find, you will have the last Word. Ladies, I am more
yours than my own.




POLITE CONVERSATION, ETC.

DIALOGUE II.

_Lord_ Smart _and the former Company at Three a Clock coming to dine_.


    [_After Salutations._

_Lord Smart._ I’m sorry I was not at Home this Morning when you all did
us the Honour to call here: But I went to the Levee To-day.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Oh! my Lord; I’m sure the Loss was ours.

_Lady Smart._ Gentlemen and Ladies, you are come to a sad dirty House; I
am sorry for it, but we have had our Hands in Mortar.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Oh! Madam; your Ladyship is pleas’d to say so, but I
never saw any thing so clean and so fine; I profess, it is a perfect
Paradise.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord, your Lordship is always very obliging.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Madam, whose Picture is that?

_Lady Smart._ Why, my Lord, it was drawn for me.

_Ld. Sparkish._ I’ll swear, the Painter did not flatter your Ladyship.

_Col._ My Lord, the Day is finely clear’d up.

_Ld. Smart._ Ay, Colonel; ’tis a pity that fair Weather should ever do
any Harm. [_To Neverout._] Why, _Tom_, you are high in the Mode.

_Neverout._ My Lord, it is better be out of the World, than out of the
Fashion.

_Ld. Smart._ But, _Tom_, I hear, You and Miss are always quarrelling; I
fear, it is your Fault; for I can assure you, she is very good-humour’d.

_Neverout._ Ay, my Lord; so is the Devil when he’s pleas’d.

_Ld. Smart._ Miss, what do you think of my Friend _Tom_?

_Miss._ My Lord, I think, he’s not the wisest Man in the World; and
truly, he’s sometimes very rude.

_Ld. Sparkish._ That may be true; but, yet, he that hangs _Tom_ for a
Fool, may find a Knave in the Halter.

_Miss._ Well, however, I wish he were hang’d, if it were only to try.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss, if I must be hang’d, I won’t go far to chuse my
Gallows; it shall be about your fair Neck.

_Miss._ I’ll see your Nose Cheese first, and the Dogs eating it: But, my
Lord, Mr. _Neverout_’s Wit begins to run low, for I vow, he said this
before: Pray, Colonel, give him a Pinch, and I’ll do as much for you.

_Ld. Sparkish._ My Lady _Smart_, your Ladyship has a very fine Scarf.

_Lady Smart._ Yes, my Lord; it will make a flaming Figure in a Country
Church.

    [Footman _comes in_.

_Footman._ Madam, Dinner’s upon the Table.

_Col._ Faith, I’m glad of it; my Belly began to cry Cupboard.

_Neverout._ I wish I may never hear worse News.

_Miss._ What! Mr. _Neverout_, you are in great Haste; I believe, your
Belly thinks your Throat’s cut.

_Neverout._ No, faith, Miss; Three Meals a Day, and a good Supper at
Night, will serve my Turn.

_Miss._ To say the Truth, I’m hungry.

_Neverout._ And I’m angry, so let us both go fight.

    [_They go in to Dinner, and after the usual Compliments, take
    their Seats._

_Lady Smart._ Ladies and Gentlemen, will you eat any Oysters before
Dinner?

_Col._ With all my Heart. [_Takes an Oyster._] He was a bold Man, that
first eat an Oyster.

_Lady Smart._ They say, Oysters are a cruel Meat, because we eat them
alive: Then they are an uncharitable Meat, for we leave nothing to the
Poor; and they are an ungodly Meat, because we never say Grace.

_Neverout._ Faith, that’s as well said, as if I had said it myself.

_Lady Smart._ Well, we are well set, if we be but as well serv’d: Come,
Colonel, handle your Arms; shall I help you to some Beef?

_Col._ If your Ladyship please; and, pray, don’t cut like a
Mother-in-Law, but send me a large Slice; for I love to lay a good
Foundation. I vow, ’tis a noble Sirloyn.

_Neverout._ Ay; here’s cut, and come again.

_Miss._ But, pray, why is it call’d a Sirloyn?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, you must know, that our King _James_ the First, who
lov’d good Eating, being invited to Dinner by one of his Nobles, and
seeing a large Loyn of Beef at his Table, he drew out his Sword, and in a
Frolic knighted it. Few People know the Secret of this.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Beef is Man’s Meat, my Lord.

_Ld. Smart._ But, my Lord, I say, Beef is the King of Meat.

_Miss._ Pray, what have I done, that I must not have a Plate?

_Lady Smart._ [_to Lady Answ._] What will your Ladyship please to eat?

_Lady Answ._ Pray, Madam, help yourself.

_Col._ They say, Eating and Scratching wants but a Beginning: If you will
give me Leave, I’ll help myself to a Slice of this Shoulder of Veal.

_Lady Smart._ Colonel, you can’t do a kinder thing: Well, you are all
heartily welcome, as I may say.

_Col._ They say, there are Thirty-and-two good Bits in a Shoulder of Veal.

_Lady Smart._ Ay, Colonel; Thirty bad Bits, and Two good ones: you see, I
understand you; but I hope, you have got one of the two good ones.

_Neverout._ Colonel, I’ll be of your Mess.

_Col._ Then, pray, _Tom_, carve for yourself: They say, Two Hands in a
Dish, and One in a Purse: Hah, said I well, _Tom_?

_Neverout._ Colonel, you spoke like an Oracle.

_Miss._ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, will your Ladyship help me to some Fish?

_Ld. Smart._ [_to Neverout._] _Tom_, they say, Fish should swim thrice.

_Neverout._ How is that, my Lord?

_Ld. Smart._ Why, _Tom_, first it should swim in the Sea, (do you mind
me?) then it should swim in Butter; and at last, Sirrah, it should swim
in good Claret. I think, I have made it out.

_Footman._ [_to Ld. Smart._] My Lord, Sir _John Linger_ is coming up.

_Ld. Smart._ God so! I invited him to dine with me To-day, and forgot
it: Well, desire him to walk in.

    [_Sir_ John Linger _comes in_.

_Sir John._ What! are you at it? Why, then, I’ll be gone.

_Lady Smart._ Sir _John_, I beg you will sit down: Come, the more the
merrier.

_Sir John._ Ay; but the fewer the better Cheer.

_Lady Smart._ Well, I am the worst in the World at making Apologies; it
was my Lord’s Fault: I doubt you must kiss the Hare’s Foot.

_Sir John._ I see you are fast by the Teeth.

_Col._ Faith, Sir _John_, we are killing that, that would kill us.

_Ld. Sparkish._ You see, Sir _John_, we are upon a Business of Life and
Death: Come, will you do as we do? You are come in Pudden-Time.

_Sir John._ Ay; this would you be doing if I were dead. What! you keep
Court-Hours I see: I’ll be going, and get a Bit of Meat at my Inn.

_Lady Smart._ Why, we won’t eat you, Sir _John_.

_Sir John._ It is my own Fault; but I was kept by a Fellow who bought
some _Derbyshire_ Oxen from me.

_Neverout._ You see, Sir _John_, we stay’d for you, as one Horse does for
another.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord, will you help Sir _John_ to some Beef? Lady
_Answerall_, pray, eat, you see your Dinner: I am sure, if we had known
we should have such good Company, we should have been better provided;
but you must take the Will for the Deed. I’m afraid you are invited to
your Loss.

_Col._ And, pray, Sir _John_, how do you like the Town? You have been
absent a long Time.

_Sir John._ Why, I find, little _London_ stands just where it did when I
left it last.

_Neverout._ What do you think of _Hannover-Square_? Why, Sir _John_,
_London_ is gone out of Town since you saw it.

_Lady Smart._ Sir _John_, I can only say, you are heartily welcome; and I
wish I had something better for you.

_Col._ Here’s no Salt; Cuckolds will run away with the Meat.

_Ld. Smart._ Pray, edge a little, to make more Room for Sir _John_: Sir
_John_, fall to, you know Half an Hour is soon lost at Dinner.

_Sir John._ I protest I can’t eat a Bit, for I took Share of a Beef-stake
and Two Muggs of Ale with my Chapman, besides a Tankard of _March_ Beer,
as soon as I got out of Bed.

_Lady Answ._ Not fresh and fasting, I hope?

_Sir John._ Yes, faith, Madam; I always wash my Kettle before I put the
Meat in it.

_Lady Smart._ Poh! Sir _John_; you have seen Nine Houses since you
eat last: Come, you have kept a Corner of your Stomach for a Piece of
Venison-Pasty.

_Sir John._ Well, I’ll try what I can do, when it comes up.

_Lady Answ._ Come, Sir _John_, you may go further, and fare worse.

_Miss._ [_to Neverout._] Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, will you please to send me
a Piece of Tongue?

_Neverout._ By no means, Madam; one Tongue’s enough for a Woman.

_Col._ Miss, here’s a Tongue that never told a Lye.

_Miss._ That was, because it could not speak. Why, Colonel, I never told
a Lye in my Life.

_Neverout._ I appeal to all the Company, whether that be not the greatest
Lye that ever was told.

_Col._ [_to Neverout._] Pr’ythee, _Tom_, send me the Two Legs and Rump
and Liver of that Pigeon; for, you must know, I love what nobody else
loves.

_Neverout._ But what if any of the Ladies should long? Well, here take
it, and the D—l do you good with it.

_Lady Answ._ Well; this Eating and Drinking takes away a body’s Stomach.

_Neverout._ I am sure I have lost mine.

_Miss._ What! the Bottom of it, I suppose.

_Neverout._ No, really, Miss; I have quite lost it.

_Miss._ I should be very sorry a poor body had found it.

_Lady Smart._ But, Sir _John_, we hear you are marry’d since we saw you
last: What! you have stolen a Wedding it seems.

_Sir John._ Well; one can’t do a foolish thing once in one’s Life, but
one must hear of it a hundred times.

_Col._ And pray, Sir _John_, how does your Lady unknown?

_Sir John._ My Wife’s well, Colonel; and at your Service in a civil way.
Ha, ha. [_he laughs._

_Miss._ Pray, Sir _John_, is your Lady tall or short?

_Sir John._ Why, Miss, I thank God, she is a Little Evil.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Come, give me a Glass of Claret.

    [Footman _fills him a Bumper_.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why do you fill so much?

_Neverout._ My Lord, he fills as he loves you.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, shall I send you some Cowcomber?

_Miss._ Madam, I dare not touch it; for they say, Cowcombers are cold in
the third Degree.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, do you love Pudden?

_Neverout._ Madam, I’m like all Fools, I love every thing that is good;
but the Proof of the Pudden is in the Eating.

_Col._ Sir _John_, I hear you are a great Walker when you are at Home.

_Sir John._ No, faith, Colonel; I always love to walk with a Horse in my
Hand: But I have had devilish bad Luck in Horse-flesh of late.

_Ld. Smart._ Why then, Sir _John_, you must kiss a Parson’s Wife.

_Lady Smart._ They say, Sir _John_, that your Lady has a great deal of
Wit.

_Sir John._ Madam, she can make a Pudden; and has just Wit enough to know
her Husband’s Breeches from another Man’s.

_Lady Smart._ My Lord _Sparkish_, I have some excellent Cyder, will you
please to taste it?

_Ld. Sparkish._ My Lord, I should like it well enough, if it were not so
treacherous.

_Ld. Smart._ Pray, my Lord, how is it treacherous?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Because it smiles in my Face, and cuts my Throat. [_Here
a loud laugh._]

_Miss._ Odd-so! Madam; your Knives are very sharp, for I have cut my
Finger.

_Lady Smart._ I am sorry for it; pray, which Finger? (God bless the Mark.)

_Miss._ Why, this Finger: No, ’tis this: I vow I can’t find which it is.

_Neverout._ Ay; the Fox had a Wound, and he could not tell where, _&c._
Bring some Water to throw in her Face.

_Miss._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, did you ever draw a Sword in Anger? I
warrant you would faint at the Sight of your own Blood.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, shall I send you some Veal?

_Neverout._ No, Madam; I don’t love it.

_Miss._ Then pray for them that do. I desire your Ladyship will send me a
Bit.

_Ld. Smart._ _Tom_, my Service to you.

_Neverout._ My Lord, this Moment I did myself the Honour to drink to your
Lordship.

_Ld. Smart._ Why then that’s _Hartfordshire_ Kindness.

_Neverout._ Faith, my Lord, I pledged myself, for I drank twice together
without thinking.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why then, Colonel, my humble Service to You.

_Neverout._ Pray, my Lord, don’t make a Bridge of my Nose.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well, a Glass of this Wine is as comfortable as Matrimony
to an old Woman.

_Col._ Sir _John_, I design one of these Days to come and beat up your
Quarters in _Derbyshire_.

_Sir John._ Faith, Colonel, come and welcome; and stay away, and
heartily welcome: But you were born within the Sound of _Bow_ Bell, and
don’t care to stir so far from _London_.

_Miss._ Pray, Colonel, send me some Fritters.

    [_Colonel takes them out with his Hand._

_Col._ Here, Miss; they say, Fingers were made before Forks, and Hands
before Knives.

_Lady Smart._ Methinks this Pudden is too much boil’d.

_Ld. Answ._ Oh! Madam, they say, a Pudden is Poison when it’s too much
boil’d.

_Neverout._ Miss, shall I help you to a Pigeon? Here’s a Pigeon so finely
roasted, it cries, Come eat me.

_Miss._ No, Sir; I thank you.

_Neverout._ Why, then you may chuse.

_Miss._ I have chosen already.

_Neverout._ Well, you may be worse offer’d, before you are twice marry’d.

    [_The Colonel fills a large Plate of Soupe._

_Ld. Smart._ Why, Colonel, you don’t mean to eat all that Soupe?

_Col._ O my Lord, this is my sick Dish; when I am well, I’ll have a
bigger.

_Miss_ [_to Col._] Sup, _Simon_; very good Broth.

_Neverout._ This seems to be a good Pullet.

_Miss._ I warrant, Mr. _Neverout_ knows what’s good for himself.

_Ld. Sparkish._ _Tom_, I shan’t take your Word for it; help me to a Wing.

    [Neverout _tryes to cut off a Wing_.

_Neverout._ Egad I can’t hit the Joint.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, then, think of a Cuckold.

_Neverout._ Oh! now I have nick’d it.

    [_Gives it Ld._ Sparkish.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, a Man may eat this, tho’ his Wife lay a dying.

_Col._ Pray, Friend, give me a Glass of Small Beer, if it be good.

_Ld. Smart._ Why, Colonel, they say, there is no such thing as good Small
Beer, good Brown Bread, or a good Old Woman.

_Lady Smart._ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, I beg your Ladyship’s Pardon; I
did not see you when I was cutting that Bit.

_Lady Answ._ Oh! Madam; after you is good Manners.

_Lady Smart._ Lord! here’s a Hair in the Sauce.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Then set the Hounds after it.

_Neverout._ Pray, Colonel, help me however to some of that same Sauce.

_Col._ Come; I think you are more Sauce than Pig.

_Ld. Smart._ Sir _John_, chear up: My Service to you: Well, what do you
think of the World to come?

_Sir John._ Truly, my Lord, I think of it as little as I can.

_Lady Smart_ [_putting a Scewer on a Plate._] Here, take this Scewer, and
carry it down to the Cook, to dress it for her own Dinner.

_Neverout._ I beg your Ladyship’s Pardon; but this Small Beer is dead.

_Lady Smart._ Why, then, let it be bury’d.

_Col._ This is admirable Black Pudden: Miss, shall I carve you some?
I can just carve Pudden, and that’s all; I am the worst Carver in the
World; I should never make a good Chaplain.

_Miss._ No, thank ye, Colonel; for they say, those that eat Black Pudden
will dream of the Devil.

_Ld. Smart._ O, here comes the Venison-Pasty: Here, take the Soupe away.

_Ld. Smart._ [_He cuts it up, and tastes the Venison._] ’Sbuds! this
Venison is musty.

    [Neverout _eats a Piece, and it burns his Mouth_.

_Ld. Smart._ What’s the Matter, _Tom_? You have Tears in your Eyes, I
think: What dost cry for, Man?

_Neverout._ My Lord, I was just thinking of my poor Grandmother; She died
just this very Day Seven Years.

    [Miss _takes a Bit, and burns her Mouth_.

_Neverout._ And, pray, Miss, why do you cry too?

_Miss._ Because you were not hang’d the Day your Grandmother died.

_Ld. Smart._ I’d have given Forty Pounds, Miss, to have said that.

_Col._ Egad, I think, the more I eat, the hungrier I am.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Colonel, they say, one Shoulder of Mutton drives
down another.

_Neverout._ Egad, if I were to fast for my Life, I would take a good
Breakfast in the Morning, a good Dinner at Noon, and a good Supper at
Night.

_Ld. Sparkish._ My Lord, this Venison is plaguily pepper’d; your Cook has
a heavy Hand.

_Ld. Smart._ My Lord, I hope, you are Pepper-proof: Come, here’s a Health
to the Founders.

_Lady Smart._ Ay; and to the Confounders too.

_Ld. Smart._ Lady _Answerall_, does not your Ladyship love Venison?

_Lady Answ._ No, my Lord, I can’t endure it in my Sight, therefore please
to send me a good Piece of Meat and Crust.

_Ld. Sparkish_ [_drinks to Neverout._] Come, _Tom_; not always to my
Friends, but once to you.

_Neverout_ [_drinks to Lady Smart._] Come, Madam; here’s a Health to our
Friends, and hang the rest of our Kin.

_Lady Smart_ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, will your Ladyship have any of this
Hare?

_Lady Answ._ No, Madam; they say, ’tis melancholy Meat.

_Lady Smart._ Then, Madam, shall I send you the Brains? I beg your
Ladyship’s Pardon; for they say, ’tis not good Manners to offer Brains.

_Lady Answ._ No, Madam; for perhaps it will make me hare-brain’d.

_Neverout._ Miss, I must tell you one thing.

_Miss_ [_with a Glass in her Hand._] Hold your Tongue, Mr. _Neverout_;
don’t speak in my Tip.

_Col._ Well, he was an ingenious Man, that first found out Eating and
Drinking.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Of all Vittles Drink digests the quickest: Give me a
Glass of Wine.

_Neverout._ My Lord, your Wine is too strong.

_Ld. Smart._ Ay, _Tom_; as much as you are too good.

_Miss._ This Almond Pudden was pure good; but it is grown quite cold.

_Neverout._ So much the better, Miss; cold Pudden will settle your Love.

_Miss._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, are you going to take a Voyage?

_Neverout._ Why do you ask, Miss?

_Miss._ Because you have laid in so much Beef.

_Sir John._ You Two have eat up the whole Pudden betwixt you.

_Miss._ Sir _John_, here’s a little Bit left; will you please to have it?

_Sir John._ No, thankee; I don’t love to make a Fool of my Mouth.

_Col._ [_calling to the Butler._] _John_, is your Small Beer good?

_Butler._ An please your Honour, my Lord and Lady like it; I think it is
good.

_Col._ Why then, _John_, d’yesee? if you are sure your Small Beer is
good, d’yemark? Then, give me a Glass of Wine.

    [_All laugh._

    [_Colonel tasting the Wine._

_Ld. Smart._ Sir _John_, how does your Neighbour _Gatherall_ of the
_Peak_? I hear, he has lately made a Purchase.

_Sir John._ Oh, _Dick Gatherall_ knows how to butter his Bread, as well
as any Man in _Darbyshire_.

_Ld. Smart._ Why, he us’d to go very fine, when he was here in Town.

_Sir John._ Ay; and it became him, as a Saddle becomes a Sow.

_Col._ I know his Lady, and I think she is a very good Woman.

_Sir John._ Faith, she has more Goodness in her little Finger, than he
has in his whole Body.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, Colonel, how do you like that Wine?

_Col._ This Wine should be eaten; it is too good to be drunk.

_Ld. Smart._ I’m very glad you like it; and pray don’t spare it.

_Col._ No, my Lord; I’ll never starve in a Cook’s Shop.

_Ld. Smart._ And pray, Sir _John_, what do You say to my Wine?

_Sir John._ I’ll take another Glass first; second Thoughts are best.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Lady _Smart_, you sit near that Ham; will you
please to send me a Bit?

_Lady Smart._ With all my Heart. [_She sends him a Piece._] Pray, my
Lord, how do you like it?

_Ld. Sparkish._ I think it is a Limb of _Lot_’s Wife. [_He eats it with
Mustard._] Egad, my Lord, your Mustard is very uncivil.

_Ld. Smart._ Why uncivil, my Lord?

_Ld. Sparkish._ Because it takes me by the Nose, egad.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, I find you are a very good Carver.

_Col._ O Madam, that is no Wonder; for you must know, _Tom Neverout_
carves a _Sundays_.

    [Neverout _overturns the Salt-celler_.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, you have overturn’d the Salt, and that’s a
Sign of Anger: I’m afraid, Miss and You will fall out.

_Lady Answ._ No, no; throw a little of it into the Fire, and all will be
well.

_Neverout._ O Madam, the falling out of Lovers, you know.

_Miss._ Lovers! very fine! fall out with Him! I wonder when we were in!

_Sir John._ For my Part, I believe, the young Gentlewoman is his
Sweetheart; there’s so much Fooling and Fidling betwixt them: I’m sure,
they say in our Country, that — — — is the Beginning of Love.

_Miss._ I own, I love Mr. _Neverout_, as the Devil loves Holy Water; I
love him like Pye, I’d rather the Devil had him than I.

_Neverout._ Miss, I’ll tell you one thing.

_Miss._ Come, here’s t’ ye, to stop your Mouth.

_Neverout._ I’d rather you would stop it with a Kiss.

_Miss._ A Kiss! marry come up, my dirty Cousin; are you no sicker? Lord,
I wonder what Fool it was that first invented Kissing!

_Neverout._ Well, I’m very dry.

_Miss._ Then you’re the better to burn, and the worse to fry.

_Lady Answ._ God bless you, Colonel; you have a good Stroke with you.

_Col._ O Madam; formerly I could eat all, but now I leave nothing; I eat
but one Meal a Day.

_Miss._ What! I suppose, Colonel, that’s from Morning till Night.

_Neverout._ Faith, Miss; and well was his Wont.

_Ld. Smart._ Pray, Lady _Answerall_, taste this Bit of Venison.

_Lady Answ._ I hope, your Lordship will set me a good Example.

_Ld. Smart._ Here’s a Glass of Cyder fill’d: Miss, you must drink it.

_Miss._ Indeed, my Lord, I can’t.

_Neverout._ Come, Miss; better Belly burst, than good Liquor be lost.

_Miss._ Pish! well in Life there was never any thing so teizing; I had
rather shed it in my Shoes: I wish it were in your Guts, for my Share.

_Ld. Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, you han’t tasted my Cyder yet.

_Neverout._ No, my Lord: I have been just eating Soupe; and they say, if
one drinks in one’s Porridge, one will cough in one’s Grave.

_Ld. Smart._ Come, take Miss’s Glass, she wish’d it was in your Guts; let
her have her Wish for once: Ladies can’t abide to have their Inclinations
cross’d.

_Lady Smart_ [_to Sir John._] I think, Sir _John_, you have not tasted
the Venison yet.

_Sir John._ I seldom eat it, Madam: However, please to send me a little
of the Crust.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, Sir _John_, you had as good eat the Devil as the
Broth he’s boil’d in.

_Col._ Well, this Eating and Drinking takes away a body’s Stomach, as
Lady _Answerall_ says.

_Neverout._ I have dined as well as my Lord Mayor.

_Miss._ I thought I could have eaten this Wing of a Chicken; but my Eye’s
bigger than my Belly.

_Ld. Smart._ Indeed, Lady _Answerall_, you have eaten nothing.

_Lady Answ._ Pray, my Lord, see all the Bones on my Plate: They say, a
Carpenter’s known by his Chips.

_Neverout._ Miss, will you reach me that Glass of Jelly?

_Miss_ [_giving it to him._] You see, ’tis but ask and have.

_Neverout._ Miss, I would have a bigger Glass.

_Miss._ What! you don’t know your own Mind; you are neither well, full
nor fasting; I think that is enough.

_Neverout._ Ay, one of the Enough’s; I am sure it is little enough.

_Miss._ Yes; but you know, sweet Things are bad for the Teeth.

_Neverout_ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, I don’t like that Part of the Veal
you sent me.

_Lady Answ._ Well, Mr. _Neverout_, I find you are a true _Englishman_;
you never know when you are well.

_Col._ Well, I have made my whole Dinner of Beef.

_Lady Answ._ Why, Colonel, a Belly-full’s a Belly-full, if it be but of
Wheat-straw.

_Col._ Well, after all, Kitchen-Physic is the best Physic.

_Ld. Smart._ And the best Doctors in the World are Doctor _Dyet_, Doctor
_Quiet_, and Doctor _Merryman_.

_Ld. Sparkish._ What do you think of a little House well fill’d?

_Sir John._ And a little Land well till’d?

_Col._ Ay; and a little Wife well will’d?

_Neverout._ My Lady _Smart_, pray help me to some of the Breast of that
Goose.

_Ld. Smart._ _Tom_, I have heard, that Goose upon Goose is false Heraldry.

_Miss._ What! will you never have done stuffing?

_Ld. Smart._ This Goose is quite raw: Well, God sends Meat, but the Devil
sends Cooks.

_Neverout._ Miss, can you tell which is the white Goose, or the gray
Goose the Gander?

_Miss._ They say, a Fool will ask more Questions than the wisest body can
answer.

_Col._ Indeed, Miss, _Tom Neverout_ has posed you.

_Miss._ Why, Colonel, every Dog has his Day; but, I believe, I shall
never see a Goose again without thinking on Mr. _Neverout_.

_Ld. Smart._ Well said, Miss; faith. Girl, thou hast brought thyself off
cleverly. _Tom_, what say you to that?

_Col._ Faith, _Tom_ is nonplust; he looks plaguily down in the Mouth.

_Miss._ Why, my Lord, you see he is the provokingest Creature in Life; I
believe there is not such another in the varsal World.

_Lady Answ._ Oh, Miss! the World’s a wide Place.

_Neverout._ Well, Miss, I’ll give you Leave to call me any thing, if you
don’t call me Spade.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, but, after all, _Tom_, can you tell me what’s _Latin_
for a Goose.

_Neverout._ O my Lord, I know that; why _Brandy_ is _Latin_ for a Goose,
and _Tace_ is _Latin_ for a Candle.

_Miss._ Is that Manners, to shew your Learning before Ladies? Methinks
you are grown very brisk of a sudden; I think the Man’s glad he’s alive.

_Sir John._ The Devil take your Wit, if this be Wit; for it spoils
Company: Pray, Mr. _Butler_, bring me a Dram after my Goose; ’tis very
good for the Wholsoms.

_Ld. Smart._ Come, bring me the Loaf; I sometimes love to cut my own
Bread.

_Miss._ I suppose, my Lord, you lay longest a Bed To-day.

_Ld. Smart._ Miss, if I had said so, I should have told a Fib; I warrant
you lay a Bed till the Cows came Home: But, Miss, shall I cut you a
little Crust now my Hand is in?

_Miss._ If you please, my Lord, a Bit of Under-crust.

_Neverout._ [_whispering Miss._] I find, you love to lie under.

_Miss._ _aloud_ [_pushing him from her._] What does the Man mean! Sir, I
don’t understand you at all.

_Neverout._ Come, all Quarrels laid aside: Here, Miss, may you live a
thousand Years.

    [_He drinks to her._

_Miss._ Pray, Sir, don’t stint me.

_Ld. Smart._ Sir _John_, will you taste my _October_? I think it is very
good; but I believe not equal to yours in _Darbyshire_.

_Sir John._ My Lord, I beg your Pardon; but they say, the Devil made
Askers.

_Ld. Smart._ [_to the Butler._] Here, bring up the great Tankard full of
_October_ for Sir _John_.

_Col._ [_drinking to Miss._] Miss, your Health; may you live all the Days
of your Life.

_Lady Answ._ Well, Miss, you’ll certainly be soon marry’d; here’s Two
Batchelors drinking to you at once.

_Lady Smart._ Indeed, Miss, I believe you were wrapt in your Mother’s
Smock, you are so well belov’d.

_Miss._ Where’s my Knife? Sure I han’t eaten it. Oh! here it is.

_Sir John._ No, Miss; but your Maidenhead hangs in your Light.

_Miss._ Pray, Sir _John_, is that a _Darbyshire_ Compliment? Here, Mr.
_Neverout_, will you take this Piece of Rabbit that you bid me carve for
you?

_Neverout._ I don’t know.

_Miss._ Why, take it, or let it alone.

_Neverout._ I will.

_Miss._ What will you?

_Neverout._ Why, I’ll take it, or let it alone.

_Miss._ You are a provoking Creature.

_Sir John_ [_talking with a Glass of Wine in his Hand._] I remember a
Farmer in our Country——

_Ld. Smart_ [_interrupting him._] Pray, Sir _John_, did you ever hear of
Parson _Palmer_?

_Sir John._ No, my Lord; what of him?

_Ld. Smart._ Why, he used to preach over his Liquor.

_Sir John._ I beg your Pardon; here’s your Lordship’s Health: I’d drink
it up, if it were a Mile to the Bottom.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, have you been at the new Play?

_Neverout._ Yes, Madam; I went the first Night.

_Lady Smart._ Well; and how did it take?

_Neverout._ Why, Madam, the Poet is damn’d.

_Sir John._ God forgive you! that’s very uncharitable: you ought not to
judge so rashly of any Christian.

_Neverout_ [_whispers Lady Smart._] Was ever such a Dunce? How well he
knows the Town! see, how he stares like a Stuck-Pig! Well, but, Sir
_John_, are you acquainted with any of our fine Ladies yet? any of our
famous Toasts?

_Sir John._ No; damn your Fireships, I have a Wife of my own.

_Lady Smart._ Pray, my Lady _Answerall_, how do you like these preserv’d
Oranges?

_Lady Answ._ Indeed, Madam, the only Fault I find is, that they are too
good.

_Lady Smart._ O Madam; I have heard ’em say, that too good is stark
naught.

    [Miss _drinking Part of a Glass of Wine_.

_Neverout._ Pray, let me drink your Snuff.

_Miss._ No, indeed; you shan’t drink after me, for you’ll know my
Thoughts.

_Neverout._ I know them already; you are thinking of a good Husband:
Besides, I can tell your Meaning by your Mumping.

_Lady Smart._ Pray, my Lord, did not you order the Butler to bring up a
Tankard of our _October_ to Sir _John_? I believe, they stay to brew it.

    [_The_ Butler _brings up the Tankard to_ Sir John.

_Sir John._ Won’t your Ladyship please to drink first?

_Lady Smart._ No, Sir _John_; ’tis in a very good Hand; I’ll pledge you.

_Col._ [_to Ld. Smart._] My Lord, I love _October_ as well as Sir _John_;
and I hope, you won’t make Fish of one, and Flesh of another.

_Ld. Smart._ Colonel, you’re heartily welcome. Come, Sir _John_, take it
by Word of Mouth, and then give it the Colonel.

    [Sir John _drinks_.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, Sir _John_, how do you like it?

_Sir John._ Not as well as my own in _Darbyshire_; ’tis plaguy small.

_Lady Smart._ I never taste Malt Liquor; but they say, ’tis well hopt.

_Sir John._ Hopt! why, if it had hopp’d a little further, it would have
hopp’d into the River. O my Lord, my Ale is Meat, Drink and Cloth; it
will make a Cat speak, and a wise Man dumb.

_Lady Smart._ I was told, ours was very strong.

_Sir John._ Ay, Madam, strong of the Water; I believe the Brewer
forgot the Malt, or the River was too near him: Faith, it is mere
Whip-Belly-Vengeance; he that drinks most has the worst Share.

_Col._ I believe, Sir _John_, Ale is as Plenty as Water at your House.

_Sir John._ Why, faith, at _Christmas_ we have many Comers and Goers; and
they must not be sent away without a Cup of _Christmas_ Ale, for fear
they should —— behind the Door.

_Lady Smart._ I hear, Sir _John_ has the nicest Garden in _England_; they
say, ’tis kept so clean, that you can’t find a Place where to spit.

_Sir John._ O Madam; you are pleased to say so.

_Lady Smart._ But, Sir _John_, your Ale is terrible strong and heady in
_Derbyshire_, and will soon make one drunk and sick; what do you then?

_Sir John._ Why, indeed, it is apt to fox one; but our Way is, to take a
Hair of the same Dog next Morning.——I take a new-laid Egg for Breakfast;
and, faith, one should drink as much after an Egg as after an Ox.

_Ld. Smart._ _Tom Neverout_, will you taste a Glass of the _October_?

_Neverout._ No, faith, my Lord; I like your Wine, and I won’t put a
Churle upon a Gentleman; your Honour’s Claret is good enough for me.

_Lady Smart._ What! is this Pigeon left for Manners? Colonel, shall I
send you the Legs and Rump?

_Col._ Madam, I could not eat a Bit more, if the House was full.

_Ld. Smart_ [_carving a Partridge._] Well; one may ride to _Rumford_ upon
this Knife, it is so blunt.

_Lady Answ._ My Lord, I beg your Pardon; but they say, an ill Workman
never had good Tools.

_Ld. Smart._ Will your Lordship have a Wing of it?

_Ld. Sparkish._ No, my Lord; I love the Wing of an Ox a great deal better.

_Ld. Smart._ I’m always cold after Eating.

_Col._ My Lord, they say, that’s a Sign of long Life.

_Ld. Smart._ Ay; I believe I shall live till all my Friends are weary of
me.

_Col._ Pray, does any body here hate Cheese? I would be glad of a Bit.

_Ld. Smart._ An odd kind of Fellow dined with me t’other Day; and when
the Cheese came upon the Table, he pretended to faint; so somebody said,
Pray, take away the Cheese; No, said I; pray, take away the Fool: Said I
well?

    [_Here a large and loud Laugh._

_Col._ Faith, my Lord, you serv’d the Coxcomb right enough; and therefore
I wish we had a Bit of your Lordship’s _Oxfordshire_ Cheese.

_Ld. Smart._ Come, hang Saving; bring us a Halfporth of Cheese.

_Lady Answ._ They say, Cheese digests every thing but itself.

    [_A Footman brings a great whole Cheese._

_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay; this would look handsome, if any body should come in.

_Sir John._ Well; I’m weily rosten, as they sayn in _Lancashire_.

_Lady Smart._ Oh! Sir _John_; I wou’d I had something to brost you withal.

_Ld. Smart._ Come; they say, ’tis merry in Hall, when Beards wag all.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, shall I help you to some Cheese? or will you carve
for yourself?

_Neverout._ I’ll hold Fifty Pounds, Miss won’t cut the Cheese.

_Miss._ Pray, why so, Mr. _Neverout_?

_Neverout._ Oh there is a Reason, and you know it well enough.

_Miss._ I can’t for my Life understand what the Gentleman means.

_Ld. Smart._ Pray, _Tom_, change the Discourse; in Troth you are too bad.

_Col._ [_whispers Neverout._] Smoke Miss; faith, you have made her fret
like Gum Taffety.

_Lady Smart._ Well, but Miss; (hold your Tongue, Mr. _Neverout_) shall I
cut you a Piece of Cheese?

_Miss._ No, really, Madam; I have dined this half Hour.

_Lady Smart._ What! quick at Meat, quick at Work, they say.

    [Sir John _nods_.

_Ld. Smart._ What! are you sleepy, Sir _John_? do you sleep after Dinner?

_Sir John._ Yes, faith; I sometimes take a Nap after my Pipe; for when
the Belly is full, the Bones will be at Rest.

_Ld. Smart._ Come, Colonel; help yourself, and your Friends will love you
the better. [_To Lady Answ._] Madam, your Ladyship eats nothing.

_Lady Answ._ Lord, Madam, I have fed like a Farmer; I shall grow as fat
as a Porpoise; I swear my Jaws are weary of chawing.

_Col._ I have a Mind to eat a Piece of that Sturgeon; but fear it will
make me sick.

_Neverout._ A rare Soldier indeed! Let it alone, and I warrant it won’t
hurt you.

_Col._ Well; but it would vex a Dog to see a Pudden creep.

    [Sir John _rises_.

_Ld. Smart._ Sir _John_, what are you doing?

_Sir John._ Swolks, I must be going, by’r Lady; I have earnest Business;
I must do as the Beggars do, go away when I have got enough.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, but stay till this Bottle’s out; you know, the Man was
hang’d that left his Liquor behind him: And besides, a Cup in the Pate is
a Mile in the Gate; and a Spur in the Head is worth two in the Heel.

_Sir John._ Come then; one Brimmer to all your Healths. [_The Footman
gives him a Glass half full._] Pray, Friend, what was the rest of this
Glass made for? An Inch at the Top, Friend, is worth two at the Bottom.
[_He gets a Brimmer, and drinks it off._] Well, there’s no Deceit in a
Brimmer, and there’s no false _Latin_ in this; your Wine is excellent
good, so I thank you for the next, for I am sure of this: Madam, has your
Ladyship any Commands in _Darbyshire_? I must go Fifteen Miles To-night.

_Lady Smart._ None, Sir _John_, but to take Care of Yourself; and my most
humble Service to your Lady unknown.

_Sir John._ Well, Madam, I can but love and thank you.

_Lady Smart._ Here, bring Water to wash; tho’, really, you have all eaten
so little, that you have no need to wash your Mouths.——

_Ld. Smart._ But, pr’ythee, Sir _John_, stay awhile longer.

_Sir John._ No, my Lord; I am to smoke a Pipe with a Friend before I
leave the Town.

_Col._ Why, Sir _John_, had not you better set out To-morrow?

_Sir John._ Colonel, you forget To-morrow is _Sunday_.

_Col._ Now I always love to begin a Journey on _Sundays_, because I shall
have the Prayers of the Church, to preserve all that travel by Land, or
by Water.

_Sir John._ Well, Colonel; thou art a mad Fellow to make a Priest of.

_Neverout._ Fie, Sir _John_, do you take Tobacco? How can you make a
Chimney of your Mouth?

_Sir John_ [_to Neverout._] What! you don’t smoke, I warrant you, but you
smock. (Ladies, I beg your Pardon.) Colonel, do you never smoke?

_Col._ No, Sir _John_; but I take a Pipe sometimes.

_Sir John._ I’faith, one of your finical _London_ Blades dined with
me last Year in _Darbyshire_; so, after Dinner, I took a Pipe; so my
Gentleman turn’d away his Head: So, said I, What, Sir, do you never
smoke? So, he answered as you do, Colonel; No, but I sometimes take a
Pipe: So, he took a Pipe in his Hand, and fiddled with it till he broke
it: So, said I, Pray, Sir, can you make a Pipe? So, he said No; so, said
I, Why, then, Sir, if you can’t make a Pipe, you should not break a Pipe;
so, we all laugh’d.

_Ld. Smart._ Well; but, Sir _John_, they say, that the Corruption of
Pipes is the Generation of Stoppers.

_Sir John._ Colonel, I hear, you go sometimes to _Darbyshire_; I wish you
would come and foul a Plate with me.

_Col._ I hope, you’ll give me a Soldier’s Bottle.

_Sir John._ Come, and try. Mr. _Neverout_, you are a Town-Wit, can you
tell me what kind of Herb is Tobacco?

_Neverout._ Why, an _Indian_ Herb, Sir _John_.

_Sir John._ No,’tis a Pot Herb; and so here’s t’ye in a Pot of my Lord’s
_October_.

_Lady Smart._ I hear, Sir _John_, since you are married, you have
forsworn the Town.

_Sir John._ No, Madam; I never forswore any thing but building of
Churches.

_Lady Smart._ Well; but, Sir _John_, when may we hope to see you again in
_London_?

_Sir John._ Why, Madam, not till the Ducks have eat up the Dirt; as the
Children say.

_Neverout._ Come, Sir _John_; I foresee it will rain terribly.

_Lady Smart._ Come, Sir _John_, do nothing rashly; let us drink first.

_Ld. Sparkish._ I know Sir _John_ will go, tho’ he was sure it would rain
Cats and Dogs: But pray, stay, Sir _John_; you’ll be time enough to go to
Bed by Candle-light.

_Ld. Smart._ Why, Sir _John_, if you must needs go; while you stay, make
good Use of your Time: Here’s my Service to you, a Health to our Friends
in _Darbyshire_: Come, sit down; let us put off the evil Hour as long as
we can.

_Sir John._ Faith, I could not drink a Drop more, if the House was full.

_Col._ Why, Sir _John_, you used to love a Glass of good Wine in former
Times.

_Sir John._ Why, so I do still, Colonel; but a Man may love his House
very well, without riding on the Ridge: Besides, I must be with my Wife
on _Tuesday_, or there will be the Devil and all to pay.

_Col._ Well, if you go To-day, I wish you may be wet to the Skin.

_Sir John._ Ay; but they say, the Prayers of the Wicked won’t prevail.

    [Sir John _takes Leave, and goes away_.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, Miss, how do you like Sir _John_?

_Miss._ Why, I think, he’s a little upon the silly, or so: I believe, he
has not all the Wit in the World; but I don’t pretend to be a Judge.

_Neverout._ Faith, I believe, he was bred at _Hogs-Norton_, where the
Pigs play upon the Organs.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Why, _Tom_, I thought You and He were Hand and Glove.

_Neverout._ Faith, he shall have a clean Threshold for me; I never
darkned his Door in my Life, neither in Town nor Country; but he’s a
quere old Duke by my Conscience; and yet, after all, I take him to be
more Knave than Fool.

_Lady Smart._ Well, come; a Man’s a Man, if he has but a Nose on his
Head.

_Col._ I was once with Him and some other Company over a Bottle; and,
egad, he fell asleep, and snor’d so hard, that we thought he was driving
his Hogs to Market.

_Neverout._ Why, what! you can have no more of a Cat than her Skin; you
can’t make a Silk Purse out of a Sow’s Ear.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Well, since he’s gone, the Devil go with him and
Sixpence; and there’s Money and Company too.

_Neverout._ Faith, he’s a true Country Put. Pray, Miss, let me ask you a
Question?

_Miss._ Well; but don’t ask Questions with a dirty Face: I warrant, what
you have to say will keep cold.

_Col._ Come, my Lord, against you are disposed; Here’s to all that love
and honour you.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Ay, that was always _Dick Nimble_’s Health. I’m sure you
know he’s dead.

_Col._ Dead! Well, my Lord, you love to be a Messenger of ill News: I’m
heartily sorry; but, my Lord, we must all die.

_Neverout._ I knew him very well: But, pray, how came he to die?

_Miss._ There’s a Question! you talk like a Poticary: Why, because he
could live no longer.

_Neverout._ Well; rest his Soul: We must live by the Living, and not by
the Dead.

_Ld. Sparkish._ You know, his House was burnt down to the Ground.

_Col._ Yes; it was in the News: Why Fire and Water are good Servants, but
they are very bad Masters.

_Ld. Smart._ Here, take away, and set down a Bottle of _Burgundy_:
Ladies, you’ll stay, and drink a Glass of Wine before you go to your Tea.

    [_All taken away, and the Wine set down_, &c.

    [Miss _gives_ Neverout _a smart Pinch_.

_Neverout._ Lord, Miss, what d’ye mean! D’ye think I have no Feeling?

_Miss._ I’m forc’d to pinch, for the Times are hard.

_Neverout_ [_giving Miss a Pinch._] Take that, Miss; what’s Sauce for a
Goose is for a Gander.

_Miss_ [_screaming._] Well, Mr. _Neverout_, if I live, that shall neither
go to Heaven nor Hell with you.

_Neverout_ [_takes Miss’s Hand._] Come, Miss; let us lay all Quarrels
aside, and be Friends.

_Miss._ Don’t be so teizing! You plague a body so!——Can’t you keep your
filthy Hands to yourself?

_Neverout._ Pray, Miss, where did you get that Pick-Tooth Case?

_Miss._ I came honestly by it.

_Neverout._ I’m sure it was mine, for I lost just such a one; nay, I
don’t tell you a Lye.

_Miss._ No; if You lye, it is much.

_Neverout._ Well; I’m sure ’tis mine.

_Miss._ What! you think every Thing is yours, but a little the King has.

_Neverout._ Colonel, you have seen my fine Pick-Tooth Case; don’t you
think this is the very same?

_Col._ Indeed, Miss, it is very like it.

_Miss._ Ay; what he says, you’ll swear.

_Neverout._ Well; but I’ll prove it to be mine.

_Miss._ Ay; do if you can.

_Neverout._ Why, what’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is my own.

_Miss._ Well, run on till you’re weary, nobody holds you.

    [Neverout _gapes_.

_Col._ What, Mr. _Neverout_, do you gape for Preferment?

_Neverout._ Faith, I may gape long enough, before it falls into my Mouth.

_Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, my Lord and I intend to beat up your
Quarters one of these Days: I hear, you live high.

_Neverout._ Yes, faith, Madam; live high, and lodge in a Garret.

_Col._ But, Miss, I forgot to tell you, that Mr. _Neverout_ got the
devilishest Fall in the Park To-day.

_Miss._ I hope he did not hurt the Ground: But how was it, Mr.
_Neverout_? I wish I had been there, to laugh.

_Neverout._ Why, Madam, it was a Place where a Cuckold has been bury’d,
and one of his Horns sticking out, I happened to stumble against it; that
was all.

_Lady Smart._ Ladies, let us leave the Gentlemen to themselves; I think
it is Time to go to our Tea.

_Lady Answ._ & _Miss._ My Lords and Gentlemen, your most humble Servant.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, Ladies, we’ll wait on you an Hour hence.

    [_The Gentlemen alone._

_Ld. Smart._ Come, _John_, bring us a fresh Bottle.

_Col._ Ay, my Lord; and, pray, let him carry off the dead Men (as we say
in the Army.)

    [_Meaning the empty Bottles._

_Ld. Sparkish._ Mr. _Neverout_, pray, is not that Bottle full?

_Neverout._ Yes, my Lord; full of Emptiness.

_Ld. Smart._ And, d’ye hear, _John_? bring clean Glasses.

_Col._ I’ll keep mine; for I think, the Wine is the best Liquor to wash
Glasses in.




POLITE CONVERSATION, ETC.

DIALOGUE III.

_The Ladies at their Tea._


_Lady Smart._ Well, Ladies; now let us have a Cup of Discourse to
ourselves.

_Lady Answ._ What do you think of your Friend, Sir _John Spendall_?

_Lady Smart._ Why, Madam,’tis happy for him, that his Father was born
before him.

_Miss._ They say, he makes a very ill Husband to my Lady.

_Lady Answ._ But he must be allow’d to be the fondest Father in the World.

_Lady Smart._ Ay, Madam, that’s true; for they say, the Devil is kind to
his own.

_Miss._ I am told, my Lady manages him to Admiration.

_Lady Smart._ That I believe; for she’s as cunning as a dead Pig; but not
half so honest.

_Lady Answ._ They say, she’s quite a Stranger to all his Gallantries.

_Lady Smart._ Not at all; but, you know, there’s none so blind as they
that won’t see.

_Miss._ O Madam, I am told, she watches him, as a Cat would watch a Mouse.

_Lady Answ._ Well, if she ben’t foully belied, she pays him in his own
Coin.

_Lady Smart._ Madam, I fancy I know your Thoughts, as well as if I were
within you.

_Lady Answ._ Madam, I was t’other Day in Company with Mrs. _Clatter_; I
find she gives herself Airs of being acquainted with your Ladyship.

_Miss._ Oh, the hideous Creature! did you observe her Nails? they were
long enough to scratch her Granum out of her Grave.

_Lady Smart._ Well, She and _Tom Gosling_ were banging Compliments
backwards and forwards; it look’d like Two Asses scrubbing one another.

_Miss._ Ay, claw me, and I’ll claw thou: But, pray, Madam; who were the
Company?

_Lady Smart._ Why, there was all the World, and his Wife; there was Mrs.
_Clatter_, Lady _Singular_, the Countess of _Talkham_, (I should have
named her first;) _Tom Goslin_, and some others, whom I have forgot.

_Lady Answ._ I think the Countess is very sickly.

_Lady Smart._ Yes, Madam; she’ll never scratch a grey Head, I promise her.

_Miss._ And, pray, what was your Conversation?

_Lady Smart._ Why, Mrs. _Clatter_ had all the Talk to herself, and was
perpetually complaining of her Misfortunes.

_Lady Answ._ She brought her Husband Ten Thousand Pounds; she has a
Town-House and Country-house: Would the Woman have her —— hung with
Points?

_Lady Smart._ She would fain be at the Top of the House before the Stairs
are built.

_Miss._ Well, Comparisons are odious; but she’s as like her Husband, as
if she were spit out of his Mouth; as like as one Egg is to another:
Pray, how was she drest?

_Lady Smart._ Why, she was as fine as Fi’pence; but, truly, I thought,
there was more Cost than Worship.

_Lady Answ._ I don’t know her Husband: Pray, what is he?

_Lady Smart._ Why, he’s a Concealer of the Law; you must know, he came to
us as drunk as _David_’s Sow.

_Miss._ What kind of Creature is he?

_Lady Smart._ You must know, the Man and his Wife are coupled like
Rabbets, a fat and a lean; he’s as fat as a Porpus, and she’s one of
_Pharaoh_’s lean Kine: The Ladies and _Tom Gosling_ were proposing a
Party at Quadrille, but he refus’d to make one: Damn your Cards, said he,
they are the Devil’s Books.

_Lady Answ._ A dull unmannerly Brute! Well, God send him more Wit, and me
more Money.

_Miss._ Lord! Madam, I would not keep such Company for the World.

_Lady Smart._ O Miss, ’tis nothing when you are used to it: Besides, you
know, for Want of Company, welcome Trumpery.

_Miss._ Did your Ladyship play?

_Lady Smart._ Yes, and won; so I came off with Fidlers Fare, Meat, Drink,
and Money.

_Lady Answ._ Ay; what says _Pluck_?

_Miss._ Well, my Elbow itches; I shall change Bed-fellows.

_Lady Smart._ And my Right Hand itches; I shall receive Money.

_Lady Answ._ And my Right Eye itches; I shall cry.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, I hear your Friend Mistress _Giddy_ has discarded
_Dick Shuttle_: Pray, has she got another Lover?

_Miss._ I hear of none.

_Lady Smart._ Why, the Fellow’s rich; and I think she was a Fool to throw
out her dirty Water before she got clean.

_Lady Answ._ Miss, that’s a very handsome Gown of yours, and finely made;
very genteel.

_Miss._ I’m glad your Ladyship likes it.

_Lady Answ._ Your Lover will be in Raptures; it becomes you admirably.

_Miss._ Ay; I assure you I won’t take it as I have done; if this won’t
fetch him, the Devil fetch him, say I.

_Lady Smart_ [_to Lady Answ._] Pray, Madam, when did you see Sir _Peter
Muckworm_?

_Lady Answ._ Not this Fortnight; I hear, he’s laid up with the Gout.

_Lady Smart._ What does he do for it?

_Lady Answ._ Why I hear he’s weary of doctoring it, and now makes Use of
nothing but Patience and Flannel.

_Miss._ Pray, how does He and my Lady agree?

_Lady Answ._ You know, he loves her as the Devil loves Holy Water.

_Miss._ They say, she plays deep with Sharpers, that cheat her of her
Money.

_Lady Answ._ Upon my Word, they must rise early that would cheat her of
her Money; Sharp’s the Word with her; Diamonds cut Diamonds.

_Miss._ Well, but I was assur’d from a good Hand that she lost at one
Sitting to the Tune of a hundred Guineas; make Money of that.

_Lady Smart._ Well, but do you hear, that Mrs. _Plump_ is brought to Bed
at last?

_Miss._ And, pray, what has God sent her?

_Lady Smart._ Why, guess, if you can.

_Miss._ A Boy, I suppose.

_Lady Smart._ No, you are out; guess again.

_Miss._ A Girl then.

_Lady Smart._ You have hit it; I believe you are a Witch.

_Miss._ O Madam; the Gentlemen say, all fine Ladies are Witches; but I
pretend to no such thing.

_Lady Answ._ Well, she had good Luck to draw _Tom Plump_ into Wedlock;
she ris’ with her —— upwards.

_Miss._ Fie, Madam! what do you mean?

_Lady Smart._ O Miss; ’tis nothing what we say among ourselves.

_Miss._ Ay, Madam; but they say, Hedges have Eyes, and Walls have Ears.

_Lady Answ._ Well, Miss, I can’t help it; you know, I am old Tell-Truth;
I love to call a Spade a Spade.

_Lady Smart_ [_mistakes the Tea-tongs for the Spoon._] What! I think my
Wits are a Wool-gathering To-day.

_Miss._ Why, Madam, there was but a Right and a Wrong.

_Lady Smart._ Miss, I hear, that You and Lady _Coupler_ are as great as
Cup and Can.

_Lady Answ._ Ay, Miss; as great as the Devil and the Earl of _Kent_.

_Lady Smart._ Nay, I am told, you meet together with as much Love, as
there is between the old Cow and the Hay-stack.

_Miss._ I own, I love her very well; but there’s Difference betwixt
staring and stark mad.

_Lady Smart._ They say, she begins to grow fat.

_Miss._ Fat! ay, fat as a Hen in the Forehead.

_Lady Smart._ Indeed, Lady _Answerall_, (pray, forgive me) I think, your
Ladyship looks thinner than when I saw you last.

_Miss._ Indeed, Madam, I think not; but your Ladyship is one of _Job_’s
Comforters.

_Lady Answ._ Well, no matter how I look; I am bought and sold: but
really, Miss, you are so very obliging, that I wish I were a handsome
young Lord for your Sake.

_Miss._ O Madam, your Love’s a Million.

_Lady Smart_ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, will your Ladyship let me wait on
you to the Play To-morrow?

_Lady Answ._ Madam, it becomes me to wait on your Ladyship.

_Miss._ What, then, I’m turn’d out for a Wrangler.

    [_The Gentlemen come in to the Ladies to drink Tea._

_Miss._ Mr. _Neverout_, we wanted you sadly; you are always out of the
Way when you should be hang’d.

_Neverout._ You wanted me! Pray, Miss, how do you look when you lye?

_Miss._ Better than you when you cry. Manners indeed! I find, you mend
like sour Ale in Summer.

_Neverout._ I beg your Pardon, Miss; I only meant, when you lie alone.

_Miss._ That’s well turn’d; one Turn more would have turn’d you down
Stairs.

_Neverout._ Come, Miss; be kind for once, and order me a Dish of Coffee.

_Miss._ Pray, go yourself; let us wear out the oldest first: Besides, I
can’t go, for I have a Bone in my Leg.

_Col._ They say, a Woman need but look on her Apron-string to find an
Excuse.

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, you are grown so peevish, a Dog would not live
with you.

_Miss._ Mr. _Neverout_, I beg your Diversion; no Offence, I hope: but
truly in a little time you intend to make the Colonel as bad as yourself;
and that’s as bad as bad can.

_Neverout._ My Lord, don’t you think Miss improves wonderfully of late?
Why, Miss, if I spoil the Colonel, I hope you will use him as you do me;
for, you know, love me, love my Dog.

_Col._ How’s that, _Tom_? Say that again: Why, if I am a Dog, shake
Hands, Brother.

    [_Here a great, loud, long Laugh._

_Ld. Smart._ But, pray, Gentlemen, why always so severe upon poor Miss?
On my Conscience, Colonel and _Tom Neverout_, one of you two are both
Knaves.

_Col._ My Lady _Answerall_, I intend to do myself the Honour of dining
with your Ladyship To-morrow.

_Lady Answ._ Ay, Colonel; do if you can.

_Miss._ I’m sure you’ll be glad to be welcome.

_Col._ Miss, I thank you; and, to reward You, I’ll come and drink Tea
with you in the Morning.

_Miss._ Colonel, there’s Two Words to that Bargain.

_Col._ [_to Lady Smart._] Your Ladyship has a very fine Watch; well may
you wear it.

_Lady Smart._ It is none of mine, Colonel.

_Col._ Pray, whose is it then?

_Lady Smart._ Why, ’tis my Lord’s; for they say, a marry’d Woman has
nothing of her own, but her Wedding-Ring and her Hair-Lace: But if Women
had been the Law-Makers, it would have been better.

_Col._ This Watch seems to be quite new.

_Lady Smart._ No, Sir; it has been Twenty Years in my Lord’s Family; but
_Quare_ put a new Case and Dial-Plate to it.

_Neverout._ Why, that’s for all the World like the Man who swore he kept
the same Knife forty Years, only he sometimes changed the Haft, and
sometimes the Blade.

_Ld. Smart._ Well, _Tom_, to give the Devil his Due, thou art a right
Woman’s Man.

_Col._ Odd-so! I have broke the Hinge of my Snuff-box; I’m undone beside
the Loss.

_Miss._ Alack-a-day, Colonel! I vow I had rather have found Forty
Shillings.

_Neverout._ Why, Colonel; all that I can say to comfort you, is, that you
must mend it with a new one.

    [Miss _laughs_.

_Col._ What, Miss! you can’t laugh, but you must shew your Teeth.

_Miss._ I’m sure you shew your Teeth when you can’t bite: Well, thus it
must be, if we sell Ale.

_Neverout._ Miss, you smell very sweet; I hope you don’t carry Perfumes.

_Miss._ Perfumes! No, Sir; I’d have you to know, it is nothing but the
Grain of my Skin.

_Col._ _Tom_, you have a good Nose to make a poor Man’s Sow.

_Ld. Sparkish._ So, Ladies and Gentlemen, methinks you are very witty
upon one another: Come, box it about; ’twill come to my Father at last.

_Col._ Why, my Lord, you see Miss has no Mercy; I wish she were marry’d;
but I doubt, the grey Mare would prove the better Horse.

_Miss._ Well, God forgive you for that Wish.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Never fear him, Miss.

_Miss._ What, my Lord, do you think I was born in a Wood, to be afraid of
an Owl?

_Ld. Smart._ What have you to say to that, Colonel?

_Neverout._ O my Lord, my Friend the Colonel scorns to set his Wit
against a Child.

_Miss._ Scornful Dogs will eat dirty Puddens.

_Col._ Well, Miss; they say, a Woman’s Tongue is the last thing about her
that dies; therefore let’s kiss and Friends.

_Miss._ Hands off! that’s Meat for your Master.

_Ld. Sparkish._ Faith, Colonel, you are for Ale and Cakes: But after all,
Miss, you are too severe; you would not meddle with your Match.

_Miss._ All they can say goes in at one Ear, and out at t’other for me, I
can assure you: Only I wish they would be quiet, and let me drink my Tea.

_Neverout._ What! I warrant you think all is lost, that goes beside your
own Mouth.

_Miss._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, hold your Tongue for once, if it be
possible; one would think, you were a Woman in Man’s Cloaths, by your
prating.

_Neverout._ No, Miss; it is not handsome to see one hold one’s Tongue:
Besides, I should slobber my Fingers.

_Col._ Miss, did you never hear, that Three Women and a Goose are enough
to make a Market?

_Miss._ I’m sure, if Mr. _Neverout_ or You were among them, it would make
a Fair.

    [Footman _comes in_.

_Lady Smart._ Here, take away the Tea-table, and bring up Candles.

_Lady Answ._ O Madam, no Candles yet, I beseech you; don’t let us burn
Day-Light.

_Neverout._ I dare swear, Miss, for her Part, will never burn Day-Light,
if she can help it.

_Miss._ Lord, Mr. _Neverout_, one can’t hear one’s own Ears for you.

_Lady Smart._ Indeed, Madam, it is Blind-Man’s Holiday; we shall soon be
all of a Colour.

_Neverout._ Why, then, Miss, we may kiss where we like best.

_Miss._ Fogh! these Men talk of nothing but kissing.

    [_She spits._

_Neverout._ What, Miss, does it make your Mouth water?

_Lady Smart._ It is as good be in the Dark as without Light; therefore
pray bring in Candles: They say, Women and Linen shew best by
Candle-Light: Come, Gentlemen, are you for a Party at Quadrille?

_Col._ I’ll make one with you three Ladies.

_Lady Answ._ I’ll sit down, and be a Stander-by.

_Lady Smart._ [_to Lady Answ._] Madam, does your Ladyship never play?

_Col._ Yes; I suppose her Ladyship plays sometimes for an Egg at _Easter_.

_Neverout._ Ay; and a Kiss at _Christmas_.

_Lady Answ._ Come, Mr. _Neverout_; hold your Tongue, and mind your
Knitting.

_Neverout._ With all my Heart; kiss my Wife, and welcome.

    [_The_ Colonel, _Mr._ Neverout, _Lady_ Smart _and_ Miss _go to
    Quadrille, and sit till Three in the Morning_.

    [_They rise from Cards._]

_Lady Smart._ Well, Miss, you’ll have a sad Husband, you have such good
Luck at Cards.

_Neverout._ Indeed, Miss, you dealt me sad Cards; if you deal so ill by
your Friends, what will you do with your Enemies?

_Lady Answ._ I’m sure ’tis time for honest Folks to be a-bed.

_Miss._ Indeed my Eyes draws Straw.

    [_She’s almost asleep._

_Neverout._ Why, Miss, if you fall asleep, somebody may get a Pair of
Gloves.

_Col._ I’m going to the Land of _Nod_.

_Neverout._ Faith, I’m for _Bedfordshire_.

_Lady Smart._ I’m sure I shall sleep without rocking.

_Neverout._ Miss, I hope you’ll dream of your Sweetheart.

_Miss._ Oh, no doubt of it: I believe I shan’t be able to sleep for
dreaming of him.

_Col._ [_to Miss._] Madam, shall I have the Honour to escort you?

_Miss._ No, Colonel, I thank you; my Mamma has sent her Chair and
Footmen. Well, my Lady _Smart_, I’ll give you Revenge whenever you please.

    [Footman _comes in_.

_Footman._ Madam, the Chairs are waiting.

    [_They all take their Chairs, and go off._


FINIS.




ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES.


PAGE 5, l. 1. 1695.—This date, and the previous “more than forty years
past,” are of course adjusted to the date of the book’s appearance. See
Introduction for its probable chronology.

PAGE 5, l. 18. For “because” I am half inclined to read “became”—a very
likely misprint.

PAGE 6, ll. 4-10. “_Twelve ... Sixteen._”—This would bring us to 1723,
which may or may not mark the date of a version of the “Conversation.”
The first “Twelve” would almost exactly coincide with the “Essay on
Conversation” referred to above.

PAGE 12, l. 18. “_Isaac the Dancing-Master._”—Called by Steele in
“Tatler,” No. 34, “my namesake Isaac.” He is best known by Soame Jenyns’
couplet:—

    “And Isaac’s rigadoon shall live as long
    As Raphael’s painting or as Virgil’s song.”

He was, as became his profession, a Frenchman. Southey refers to him in
“The Doctor.”

PAGE 16, l. 6. “_Comedies and other fantastick Writings._”—Where they
will be found, as the ingenious Mr. Wagstaff says, “strewed here and
there.”

PAGES 16, 17.—“_Graham. D. of R. E. of E. Lord and Lady H._”—I do not
know that attempts at identifying these shadowy personages would be very
wise. But the date assigned to the Colonel is one of the marks of long
incubation. “Towards the end” of Charles II.’s reign would be about 1684.
A fine gentleman of that day might very well have been Mr. Wagstaff’s
“companion” had the latter written in 1710—less well had he written a
quarter of a century later.

PAGE 18, l. 24.—Swift, like a good Tory and Churchman, never forgave
Burnet.

PAGE 21, l. 2. “_Selling of Bargains_” is the returning of a coarse
answer to a question or other remark. So in Dorset’s charming poem about
“This Bess of my heart, this Bess of my soul.”

PAGE 24, l. 26. “_Great Ornaments of Style_,” or, as it hath been put
otherwise, “_a grand set-off to conversation_.”—Observe that in these
passages as to Free-Thinking and Oaths, Swift maintains his invariable
attitude as to profanity.

PAGE 25, last line. “_Poet._”—I know him not, if he ever existed save as
a maggot of Swift’s brain.

PAGE 26, l. 13. “_Sir John Perrot._”—Deputy of Ireland and a stout
soldier, but an unlucky politician. He died in the Tower, where he is not
unlikely to have had leisure and reason to perfect himself in commination.

PAGE 31, l. 16. “_Lilly._”—The Latin grammarian, of course, not the
astrologer.

PAGE 32, l. 12. “_e’n’t_” I presume to be identical with _ain’t_.

PAGE 36, l. 21. It may seem strange that Mr. Wagstaff, who loves not
books and scholars, should refer to a grave philosopher. But fine
gentlemen in his youth had to know or seem to know their Hobbes.

PAGE 38, l. 26. “_Please._”—_sic_ in orig.

PAGE 41.—In this page Swift strikes in with his friends against the
“dunces.” One may suspect that Tom Brown was in the first draught, and
perhaps Dennis, Ward and Gildon being added later.

PAGE 42, l. 6.—Ozell, the translator of Rabelais. Stevens I do not know
or have forgotten, and the “Dunciad” knows him not.

PAGE 44, l. 26. “_The Craftsman._”—This must be one of the latest
additions, the “Craftsman” being the organ of Pulteney and the Opposition
in the great Walpolian battle.

PAGE 46, ll. 11, 17. “_Another for Alexander!_”

PAGE 50, l. 21. “_Those of Sir Isaac._”—Mr. Craik and others have
noticed that Swift’s grammar, especially in unrevised pieces, is not
always impeccable. But this, like other things in this Introduction, is
clearly writ in character, the character of the more polite than pedantic
Wagstaff.

PAGE 56, l. 26. “_Wit at Will._”—Readers of the minor and even of the
greater writers of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries
will remember the interminable jingles and plays on these two words
wherever they could be introduced. The phrase “Wit at will” survived most
of its companions as a catchword.

PAGE 58, l. 3. “_Queen Elizabeth’s dead._”—A minute philosopher might
be pleased with the inquiry when Queen Anne superseded her gracious
predecessor in this phrase. Naturally that time had not come when the
“Conversation” was first planned.

PAGE 59, l. 2. “_Push-pin._”—Allusions to this old children’s game are
very common in the seventeenth century; rare, I think, in the eighteenth.

PAGE 64, l. 20. “_Vardi._”—See Introduction, p. 32, where the form is
“Verdi.”

PAGE 65, l. 28. “_Lob’s pound_” means an inextricable difficulty. In
Dekker’s paraphrase of the “Quinze Joyes du Mariage,” it is used to
render the French _dans la nasse_.

PAGE 72, l. 1. I do not understand “_Map-sticks_.”

PAGE 76, ll. 3, 4. “_Cooking._”—_I.e._ (as I suppose), putting the
bread-and-butter in the tea. I believe this atrocious practice is not
absolutely obsolete yet.

PAGE 76, last line but one. “_Head for the washing._”—I think this is
quite dead in English; _laver la tête_ is of course still excellent
French for to scold or rate.

PAGE 79, l. 3. “_A Lord._”—Lord Grimstone, whose production made the
wits merry for a long time. He is Pope’s “booby Lord,” and this absurd
play (which, however, he is said to have written at the age of 13), was
reprinted in his despite by the Duchess of Marlborough, with whom he had
an election quarrel. _Lady Sparkish_ is in orig., but is probably a slip
for Lady Answerall.

PAGE 82, l. 23. “_The Lord of the Lord knows what._”—A peerage revived
with slightly altered title by Peter Simple’s shipmates in favour of “the
Lord Nozoo.”

PAGE 103, l. 4. “_Ld. Smart._”—Erratum for “Ld. Sparkish.”

PAGE 103, l. 13. “_Tantiny Pig._”—The pig usually assigned as companion
to St. Anthony.

PAGE 105, l. 26. “_Poles._”—St. Paul’s.

PAGE 109, l. 4. “_Jommetry._”—See Introduction.

PAGE 110, l. 7.—I do not know the origin of Miss’s catchword. Julia, the
heroine of Dryden’s “Amboyna,” had used it beforehand.

PAGE 111, l. 25. “_Tansy_” has two senses, a plant and a sort of custard.
The reader may choose which suits the circumstances best for metaphorical
explanation.

PAGE 112, l. 11. “_Otomy_,” for “anatomy,” “skeleton.”

PAGE 114, l. 17. “_Ld. Smart_” again for “Ld. Sparkish;” at the foot of
the next page for “_Lady_ Smart.”

PAGE 117, last line. “_Smoke_,” “look at;” later, “twig.”

PAGE 118, l. 13. “_Lady Sparkish_,” probably for “Lady Smart,” as being
hostess.

PAGE 121, last line. “_Inkle._”—Ribbon or tape.

PAGE 129, l. 8. Scott has borrowed this vigorous protest of Miss in one
of his private letters.

PAGE 131, l. 7. “_Ld. Sparkish_” should evidently be “Ld. Smart.”

PAGE 135, l. 14. “_Kept a Corner for a Venison Pasty._”—Which Dr.
Goldsmith remembered in immortal verse.

PAGE 140, l. 12. I do not know whether this speech was meant for Lord
Sparkish or Lady Answerall.

PAGE 143, ll. 1, 3. An unnecessary double entry, but right in the
attribution.

PAGE 145, l. 9. “_In my Tip_,” “as I am drinking.”

PAGE 161, l. 4. “_Weily rosten_,” should probably be “_b_rosten,” _i.e._,
“well-nigh burst.”

PAGE 162, l. 9. Lord Smart might make this speech; but from the answer it
would seem to be his Lady’s.

PAGE 165, l. 13.—I don’t know whether Swift, who never forgot his feud
with “Cousin Dryden,” was indulging in a half-gird at “The corruption of
a poet is the generation of a critic.”

PAGE 176, l. 8. “_Concealer._”—A brilliant pun on “Counsellor.”

PAGE 181, l. 24. “_A Bone in my Leg._”—This odd phrase for a peculiar
cramp in the leg is not dead yet.

PAGE 183, l. 21. “_Quare._”—David Q., died in 1724. He had invented
repeaters, and throughout the eighteenth century was what Tompion was
later among watchmakers, what Joe Manton was long among gunmakers, a name
to conjure with and to quote.

PAGE 184, l. 24. “_Box it about; ’twill come to my Father._”—The famous
Jacobite cant-phrase for breeding disturbance in hopes of a fresh
Revolution.


    CHISWICK PRESS:—CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.,
    TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.





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