Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/347

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DIALOGUE II.
337

Colonel takes them out with his hand.


Col. Here, miss; they say fingers were made before forks, and hands before knives.

Lady Smart. Methinks this pudding is too much boil'd.

Lady Answ. O! madam, they say a pudding is poison, when it is too much boil'd.

Neverout. Miss, shall I help you to a pigeon? here's a pigeon so finely roasted, it cries, Come eat me.

Miss. No, sir; I thank you.

Neverout. Why, then you may choose.

Miss. I have chosen already.

Neverout. Well, you may be worse offered, before you are twice married.


The Colonel fills a large plate of soup.


Ld. Smart. Why, colonel, you don't mean to eat all that soup.

Col. O, my lord, this is my sick dish; when I'm well, I'll have a bigger.

Miss. [to Col.] Sup, Simon; very good broth.

Neverout. This seems to be a good pullet.

Miss. I warrant, Mr. Neverout knows what's good for himself.

Ld. Sparkish. Tom, I sha'nt take your word for it; help me to a wing.


Neverout tries to cut off a wing.


Neverout. Egad, I can't hit the joint.

Ld. Sparkish. Why then, think of a cuckold.

Neverout. O! now I have nick'd it.

[Gives it to Ld. Sparkish.

Ld. Sparkish. Why, a man may eat this, though his wife lay a dying.

Vol. VIII.
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Col.