Fain. Let me alone; I'll lay my life I'll horn you—that is, I'll make it appear I might if I could.
Cler. Sen. Ay, that will please me quite as well.
Fain. To show you the progress I have made, I last night won of her five hundred pounds, which I have brought you safe. [Giving him bills.
Cler. Sen. Oh the damned vice! That women can imagine all household care, regard to posterity, and fear of poverty, must be sacrificed to a game at cards! Suppose she had not had it to pay, and you had been capable of finding your account another way?
Fain. That's but a suppose—
Cler. Sen. I say, she must have complied with everything you asked.
Fain. But she knows you never limit her expenses.—I'll gain him from her for ever if I can. [Aside.
Cler. Sen. With this you have repaid me two thousand pounds, and if you did not refund thus honestly, I could not have supplied her. We must have parted.
Fain. Then you shall part—if t'other way fails—[Aside.]—However, I can't blame your fondness of her, she has so many entertaining qualities with her vanity. Then she has such a pretty unthinking air, while she saunters round a room, and prattles sentences.
Cler. Sen. That was her turn from her infancy; she always had a great genius for knowing everything but what it was necessary she should. The wits of the age, the great beauties, and short-lived people of vogue, were always her discourse and imitation. Thus the case stood when she went to France; but her fine follies improved so daily, that though I was then proud of her being called Mr. Clerimont's wife, I am now as much out of countenance to hear myself called Mrs. Clerimont's husband, so much is the superiority of her side.