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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 you take tobacco ? How can you make a chimney of your mouth?
Sir John. [To Neverout.) What ! 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 you 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 stoppers.
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 inay love his house very well, without riding on the ridge: besides, I must be with my 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 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
Col. Come, my lord, against you are disposed : here's to all that love and honour you.
Ld. Sparkish. Ay, that was always Dick Nimble'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.
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.
Neverout. Why, what's yours is mine, and what's mine is my own.
Miss. Well, run on till you're weary ; nobody
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.