Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/299

Rh Neverout. Cry mapsticks, madam; no offence I hope.

Lady Answ. Lord, madam, how came you to break your cup?

Lady Smart. I can't help it, if I would cry my eyes out.

Miss. Why sell it, madam, and buy a new one with some of the money.

Col. 'Tis a folly to cry for spilt milk.

Lady Smart. Why, if things did not break or wear out, how would tradesmen live?

Miss. Well; I am very sick, if any body car'd for it.

Neverout. Come, then, miss, e'en make a die of it, and then we shall have a burying of our own.

Miss. The devil take you, Neverout, beside all small curses.

Lady Answ. Marry come up, what, plain Neverout! methinks you might have an M under your girdle, miss.

Lady Smart. Well, well, naught's never in danger; I warrant miss will spit in her hand, and hold fast. Colonel, do you like this biscuit?

Col. I'm like all fools; I love every thing that's good.

Lady Smart. Well, and isn't it pure good?

Col. 'Tis better than a worse.

Lady Answ.. I suppose, colonel, that's a billetdoux from your mistress.

Col. Egad, I don't know whence it comes; but whoe'er writ it, writes a hand like a foot. . VIII.