_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.