_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?