_Neverout._ Come, Sir _John_; I foresee it will rain terribly. _Lady Smart._ Come, Sir _John_, do nothing rashly; let us drink first. _Ld. Sparkish._ I know Sir _John_ will go, tho’ he was sure it would rain Cats and Dogs: But pray, stay, Sir _John_; you’ll be time enough to go to Bed by Candle-light. _Ld. Smart._ Why, Sir _John_, if you must needs go; while you stay, make good Use of your Time: Here’s my Service to you, a Health to our Friends in _Darbyshire_: Come, sit down; let us put off the evil Hour as long as we can. _Sir John._ Faith, I could not drink a Drop more, if the House was full. _Col._ Why, Sir _John_, you used to love a Glass of good Wine in former Times. _Sir John._ Why, so I do still, Colonel; but a Man may love his House very well, without riding on the Ridge: Besides, I must be with my Wife on _Tuesday_, or there will be the Devil and all to pay. _Col._ Well, if you go To-day, I wish you may be wet to the Skin. _Sir John._ Ay; but they say, the Prayers of the Wicked won’t prevail. [Sir John _takes Leave, and goes away_. _Ld. Smart._ Well, Miss, how do you like Sir _John_? _Miss._ Why, I think, he’s a little upon the silly, or so: I believe, he has not all the Wit in the World; but I don’t pretend to be a Judge. _Neverout._ Faith, I believe, he was bred at _Hogs-Norton_, where the Pigs play upon the Organs. _Ld. Sparkish._ Why, _Tom_, I thought You and He were Hand and Glove. _Neverout._ Faith, he shall have a clean Threshold for me; I never darkned his Door in my Life, neither in Town nor Country; but he’s a quere old Duke by my Conscience; and yet, after all, I take him to be more Knave than Fool. _Lady Smart._ Well, come; a Man’s a Man, if he has but a Nose on his Head. _Col._ I was once with Him and some other Company over a Bottle; and, egad, he fell asleep, and snor’d so hard, that we thought he was driving his Hogs to Market. _Neverout._ Why, what! you can have no more of a Cat than her Skin; you can’t make a Silk Purse out of a Sow’s Ear. _Ld. Sparkish._ Well, since he’s gone, the Devil go with him and Sixpence; and there’s Money and Company too. _Neverout._ Faith, he’s a true Country Put. Pray, Miss, let me ask you a Question? _Miss._ Well; but don’t ask Questions with a dirty Face: I warrant, what you have to say will keep cold. _Col._ Come, my Lord, against you are disposed; Here’s to all that love and honour you. _Ld. Sparkish._ Ay, that was always _Dick Nimble_’s Health. I’m sure you know he’s dead. _Col._ Dead! Well, my Lord, you love to be a Messenger of ill News: I’m heartily sorry; but, my Lord, we must all die. _Neverout._ I knew him very well: But, pray, how came he to die? _Miss._ There’s a Question! you talk like a Poticary: Why, because he could live no longer. _Neverout._ Well; rest his Soul: We must live by the Living, and not by the Dead. _Ld. Sparkish._ You know, his House was burnt down to the Ground.