Lord Fop. All I can say is, you should have been a better Husband.
Young Fash. 'Oons, if you can't live upon five thousand a-year, how do you think I should do't upon two hundred?
Lord Fop. Don't be in a Passion, Tam; far Passion is the most unbecoming thing in the Warld——to the Face. Look you, I don't love to say any thing to you to make you melancholy; but upon this occasion I must take leave to put you in mind, that a Running Horse does require more Attendance, than a Coach-Horse. Nature has made some difference 'twixt you and I.
Young Fash. Yes, she has made you older. [Aside.] Pox take her.
Lord Fop. That is nat all. Tam.
Young Fash. Why, what is there else?
Lord Fop. [Looking first upon himself, then upon his Brother.]——Ask the Ladies.
Young Fash. Why, thou Essence Bottle, thou Musk-Cat, dost thou then think thou hast any Advantage over me, but what Fortune has given thee?
Lord Fop. I do——stap my Vitals.
Young Fash. Now, by all that's great and powerful, thou art the Prince of Coxcombs.