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Sir John. Colonel, you forget to-morrow is Sunday.

Col. Now I always love to begin a journey on Sundays, because I shall have the prayers of the church, to preserve all that travel by land or by water.

Sir John. Well, colonel; thou art a mad fellow to make a priest of. Neverout. Fie, Sir John! do


take tobacco ? How can you make a chimney of your mouth?

Sir John. [To Neverout.) What! you don't smoke, I warrant you, but you smock. (Ladies, I beg your pardon.) Colonel, do you never smoke ?

Col. No, Sir John; but I take a pipe sometimes.

Sir John. I'faith, one of your finical London blades dined with me last year in Derbyshire : so, after dinner, I took a pipe : so my gentleman turn'd away his head: so, said I, what, sir, do you never smoke? so, he answered as you do, colonel; no, but I sometimes take a pipe: so he took a pipe in his hand, and fiddled with it till he broke it: so, said I, pray, sir, can you make a pipe? so, he said, no; so, said I, why then, sir, if


cann't make a pipe, you should not break a pipe; so, we all laugh’d.

Ld. Smart. Well; but, Sir John, they say, that the corruption of pipes is the generation of stop


Sir John. Colonel, I hear you go sometimes to Derbyshire; I wish you would come and foul a plate with me.

* A burlesque upon an expression of Dryden's, that the corruption of a poet was the generation of a critic. The parody seems to have been proverbial.


Col. I hope, you will give me a soldier's bottle.

Sir John. Come, and try. Mr Neverout, you are a town wit; can you tell me what kind of herb is tobacco ?

Neverout. Why, an Indian herb, Sir John.

Sir John. No, 'tis a pot-herb; and so here's t'ye in a pot of my lord's October.

Lady Smart. I hear, Sir John, since you are married, you have forswore the town.

Sir John. No, madam; I never forswore any thing but the building of churches.

Lady Smart. Well; but, Sir John, when may we hope to see you again in London?

Sir John. Why, madam, not till the ducks have eat up the dirt, as the children say.

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, though 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 use of your time: here's my service to you, a health to our friends in Derbyshire: 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 Hog's Norton, where the pigs play upon


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 snored 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 cann't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.

Ld. Sparkish. Well, since he's gone, the devil

* The true name of this Leicestershire village is said to be Hock-Norton, vulgarly pronounced Hoggs-Norton. The organist there happened at one time to be named Piggs, which gave rise to the proverb.

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 Nim. ble'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.

Col. Yes; it was in the news. Why, fire and water are good servants, but they are very bad masters.

Ld. Smart. Here, take away, and set down a bottle of Burgundy. Ladies, you'll stay and drink a glass of wine before you go to your tea.

All taken away, and the wine set down, &c.

Miss gives Neverout a smart pinch. Neverout. Lord, miss, what d’ye mean? d'ye think I have no feeling?

Miss. I'm forced to pinch, for the times are hard.

Miss [Screaming.] Well, Mr Neverout, that shall neither go to heaven nor hell with you.

Neverout [Takes miss by the hand.] Come, miss, let us lay all quarrels aside, and be friends.

Miss. Don't be so teasing: you plague a body so ! cann't you keep your filthy hands to yourself?

Neverout. Pray, miss, where did you get that pick-tooth case ?

Miss. I came honestly by it.

Neverout. I'm sure it was mine, for I lost just such a one; nay I don't tell you a lie.

Miss. No; if you lie it is much.
Neverout. Well; I'm sure ’tis mine.

Miss. What! you think every thing is yours, but a little the king has.

Neverout. Colonel, you have seen my fine picktooth case; don't you think this is the very same?

Col. Indeed, miss, it is very like it.
Miss. Ay; what he says, you'll swear.
Neverout. Well; but I'll prove it to be mine.
Miss. Ay; do if you can.

Neverout. Why, what's yours is mine, and what's mine is my own.

Miss. Well, run on till you're weary; nobody

holds you.

Neverout gapes.
Col. What, Mr Neverout, do you gape for


Neverout. Faith, I may gape long enough, before it falls into my mouth.

Lady Smart. Mr Neverout, my lord and I intend to beat up your quarters one of these days : I hear you live high.

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