_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.