Why laſt night, as Colonel Kill'em, Sir William Weezy, Lord Frederick Foretop, and I were careleſsly ſliding the Ranelagh round, picking our teeth, after a damn'd muzzy dinner at Boodle's, who ſhould trip by but an abbeſs, well known about town, with a ſmart little nun in her ſuite.
1770, Samuel Foote, The Lame Lover, a Comedy in Three Acts. […], London: […] Paul Vaillant; and sold by P[eter] Elmsly […]; and Robinson and Roberts, […], Act I, page 12