Bev. Excuse my peculiar mode of expression—but you appear to me to pass your life in being perpetually overcome.
Mad. A. Women are but fragile flowers.
[Weeps.
Bev. They seem to require a deal of water.
Mad. A. But horses, sir—talking of horses, puts me in mind of a pet I had.
Mad. L. A pet horse, dear?
Mad. A. No, love, a donkey. Oh!
[Weeps.
Bev. [Aside.] Now she's watering the donkey.
Mad. A. I had the dear little creature for two years. Just long enough to—pray listen, sir.