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 Hog's 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 darkened his door in my life, neither in town nor country; but he's a queer 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 face.
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.
