_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.