_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.