Footman fills him a bumper.
Ld. Sparkish. Why do you fill so much?
Neverout. My lord, he fills as he loves you.
Lady Smart. Miss, shall I send you some cucumber?
Miss. Madam, I dare not touch it: for they say, cucumbers are cold in the third degree.
Lady Smart. Mr. Neverout, do you love pudding?
Neverout. Madam, I'm like all fools, I love every thing that is good; but the proof of the pudding is in the eating.
Col. Sir John, I hear you are a great walker, when you are at home.
Sir John. No, faith, colonel; I always love to walk with a horse in my hand: but I have had devilish bad luck in horse flesh of late.
Ld. Smart. Why then, sir John, you must kiss a parson's wife.
Lady Smart. They say, sir John, that your lady has a great deal of wit.
Sir John. Madam, she can make a pudding; and has just wit enough to know her husband's breeches from another man's.
Ld. Smart. My lord Sparkish, I have some excellent cider; will you please to taste it?
Ld. Sparkish. My lord, I should like it well enough, if it were not treacherous.
Ld. Smart. Pray, my lord, how is it treacherous?
Ld. Sparkish. Because it smiles in my face, and cuts my throat.
[Here a loud laugh.
Miss. Odd-so! madam; your knives are very sharp, for I have cut my finger.
Lady Smart. I am sorry for it; pray, which finger? (God bless the mark!)
Miss.
