Pink of Fashion

My lord—you're a horrid creature—an't that true my lady? Why will your ludship be so curst a flat? I'm the neatest thing in nature—what say you my lady? Natty, witty, pretty—he! he!—saucy that! Look'ce—cut my coat in two, Burnt the skirts—as good as new; If it an't the stylish go, then am I a Jew! We shall be the pink of fashion—what think you my lady? Natty kiddies for the ladies—how d'ye do?

Men of taste improve their phizzes—an't that true my lady? Pray make his ludship understand what's what: I hate your stupid quizzes—what say you my lady? Sheepish, mopish, dumpish—he! he!—too bad that? Look'ee—here's the saucy grace, Whiskers, neckloth, squinting glass, If it an't a knowing face, then am I a Jew! We shall be the pink of fashion—what think you my lady? Knowing kiddies for the ladies?—how d'ye do?

All the deep ones trim their nappers, an't that true my lady? Twig his lordship—what a tail our cat has got? He shall rank among the croppers—what say you my lady? Snip it, clip it, dash it—he! he! he!—why not? Look at me—the true tip top; Quite the thing—a frizzled mop. If it an't the noble crop, then am I a Jew! We shall be the pink of fashion—what think you my lady? Rolling kiddies for the ladies!—how d'ye do?