_Miss._ I’m sure you’ll be glad to be welcome. _Col._ Miss, I thank you; and, to reward You, I’ll come and drink Tea with you in the Morning. _Miss._ Colonel, there’s Two Words to that Bargain. _Col._ [_to Lady Smart._] Your Ladyship has a very fine Watch; well may you wear it. _Lady Smart._ It is none of mine, Colonel. _Col._ Pray, whose is it then? _Lady Smart._ Why, ’tis my Lord’s; for they say, a marry’d Woman has nothing of her own, but her Wedding-Ring and her Hair-Lace: But if Women had been the Law-Makers, it would have been better. _Col._ This Watch seems to be quite new. _Lady Smart._ No, Sir; it has been Twenty Years in my Lord’s Family; but _Quare_ put a new Case and Dial-Plate to it. _Neverout._ Why, that’s for all the World like the Man who swore he kept the same Knife forty Years, only he sometimes changed the Haft, and sometimes the Blade. _Ld. Smart._ Well, _Tom_, to give the Devil his Due, thou art a right Woman’s Man. _Col._ Odd-so! I have broke the Hinge of my Snuff-box; I’m undone beside the Loss. _Miss._ Alack-a-day, Colonel! I vow I had rather have found Forty Shillings. _Neverout._ Why, Colonel; all that I can say to comfort you, is, that you must mend it with a new one. [Miss _laughs_. _Col._ What, Miss! you can’t laugh, but you must shew your Teeth. _Miss._ I’m sure you shew your Teeth when you can’t bite: Well, thus it must be, if we sell Ale. _Neverout._ Miss, you smell very sweet; I hope you don’t carry Perfumes. _Miss._ Perfumes! No, Sir; I’d have you to know, it is nothing but the Grain of my Skin. _Col._ _Tom_, you have a good Nose to make a poor Man’s Sow. _Ld. Sparkish._ So, Ladies and Gentlemen, methinks you are very witty upon one another: Come, box it about; ’twill come to my Father at last. _Col._ Why, my Lord, you see Miss has no Mercy; I wish she were marry’d; but I doubt, the grey Mare would prove the better Horse. _Miss._ Well, God forgive you for that Wish. _Ld. Sparkish._ Never fear him, Miss. _Miss._ What, my Lord, do you think I was born in a Wood, to be afraid of an Owl? _Ld. Smart._ What have you to say to that, Colonel? _Neverout._ O my Lord, my Friend the Colonel scorns to set his Wit against a Child. _Miss._ Scornful Dogs will eat dirty Puddens. _Col._ Well, Miss; they say, a Woman’s Tongue is the last thing about her that dies; therefore let’s kiss and Friends. _Miss._ Hands off! that’s Meat for your Master. _Ld. Sparkish._ Faith, Colonel, you are for Ale and Cakes: But after all, Miss, you are too severe; you would not meddle with your Match. _Miss._ All they can say goes in at one Ear, and out at t’other for me, I can assure you: Only I wish they would be quiet, and let me drink my Tea. _Neverout._ What! I warrant you think all is lost, that goes beside your own Mouth. _Miss._ Pray, Mr. _Neverout_, hold your Tongue for once, if it be possible; one would think, you were a Woman in Man’s Cloaths, by your prating.