Flip. See the tenderness she has for him, and yet he's always complaining of you.
Clar. 'Tis the nature of 'em, Flippanta; a husband is a growling animal.
Flip. How exactly you define 'em!
Clar. O! I know 'em, Flippanta: though I confess my poor wretch diverts me sometimes with his ill-humours. I wish he wou'd quarrel with me to-day a little, to pass away the time, for I find myself in a violent spleen.
Flip. Why, if you please to drop yourself in his way, six to four but he scolds one rubbers with you.
Clar. Ay, but thou know'st he's as uncertain as the wind; and if instead of quarrelling with me, he should chance to be fond, he'd make me as sick as a dog.
Flip. If he's kind, you must provoke him; if he kisses you, spit in his face.
Clar. Alas, when men are in the kissing fit, (like lap-dogs) they take that for a favour.
Flip. Nay, then, I don't know what you'll do with him.