_Ld. Smart._ An odd kind of Fellow dined with me t’other Day; and when the Cheese came upon the Table, he pretended to faint; so somebody said, Pray, take away the Cheese; No, said I; pray, take away the Fool: Said I well? [_Here a large and loud Laugh._ _Col._ Faith, my Lord, you serv’d the Coxcomb right enough; and therefore I wish we had a Bit of your Lordship’s _Oxfordshire_ Cheese. _Ld. Smart._ Come, hang Saving; bring us a Halfporth of Cheese. _Lady Answ._ They say, Cheese digests every thing but itself. [_A Footman brings a great whole Cheese._ _Ld. Sparkish._ Ay; this would look handsome, if any body should come in. _Sir John._ Well; I’m weily rosten, as they sayn in _Lancashire_. _Lady Smart._ Oh! Sir _John_; I wou’d I had something to brost you withal. _Ld. Smart._ Come; they say, ’tis merry in Hall, when Beards wag all. _Lady Smart._ Miss, shall I help you to some Cheese? or will you carve for yourself? _Neverout._ I’ll hold Fifty Pounds, Miss won’t cut the Cheese. _Miss._ Pray, why so, Mr. _Neverout_? _Neverout._ Oh there is a Reason, and you know it well enough. _Miss._ I can’t for my Life understand what the Gentleman means. _Ld. Smart._ Pray, _Tom_, change the Discourse; in Troth you are too bad. _Col._ [_whispers Neverout._] Smoke Miss; faith, you have made her fret like Gum Taffety. _Lady Smart._ Well, but Miss; (hold your Tongue, Mr. _Neverout_) shall I cut you a Piece of Cheese? _Miss._ No, really, Madam; I have dined this half Hour. _Lady Smart._ What! quick at Meat, quick at Work, they say. [Sir John _nods_. _Ld. Smart._ What! are you sleepy, Sir _John_? do you sleep after Dinner? _Sir John._ Yes, faith; I sometimes take a Nap after my Pipe; for when the Belly is full, the Bones will be at Rest. _Ld. Smart._ Come, Colonel; help yourself, and your Friends will love you the better. [_To Lady Answ._] Madam, your Ladyship eats nothing. _Lady Answ._ Lord, Madam, I have fed like a Farmer; I shall grow as fat as a Porpoise; I swear my Jaws are weary of chawing. _Col._ I have a Mind to eat a Piece of that Sturgeon; but fear it will make me sick. _Neverout._ A rare Soldier indeed! Let it alone, and I warrant it won’t hurt you. _Col._ Well; but it would vex a Dog to see a Pudden creep. [Sir John _rises_. _Ld. Smart._ Sir _John_, what are you doing? _Sir John._ Swolks, I must be going, by’r Lady; I have earnest Business; I must do as the Beggars do, go away when I have got enough. _Ld. Smart._ Well, but stay till this Bottle’s out; you know, the Man was hang’d that left his Liquor behind him: And besides, a Cup in the Pate is a Mile in the Gate; and a Spur in the Head is worth two in the Heel.