[The Horse appears to resent this description of himself, and lashes out by way of contradiction.
Paterfamilias, in audience (who has a spoilt horse at home). Just what I always say about Tartar—it's nerves, not vice.
His Eldest Daughter. Shall you send him here to be cured, Father?
Paterf. No, my dear; quite unnecessary. When I see how it's done, I shall able to take Tartar in hand myself, I have no doubt.
The Prof. (instructively). It is natural For a Horse when frightened at anything in Front of him, To jump Backwards, and when frightened at anything Back of him, To jump Forwards. (Applause, in recognition of the accuracy and observation of this axiom.) Now I will show you my method Of correcting this Tendency by means Of my double Safety Rope and driving Rein, without Cruelty. Always Be Humane, Never causing any Pain if you Possibly can Help it. Fetch that Harness. (The short Groom trips again, but so elaborately as to be immediately recognised as the funny man of the performance, after which his awkwardness ceases to entertain. The Professor shouts, "Woa!" and, as the horse declines to accept this suggestion, emphasises it by pulling the double rope, which, being attached to the animals forelegs, promptly brings him on his knees, much to his surprise and indignation.) Never use the word "Woa!" Only when you mean your horse To stop. Woa! (horse down again, intensely humiliated.) If you mean him just To go quiet, say "Steady!" and teach him The difference Of the words. Never afterwards Deceiving him. (Paterf. makes a note of this on Tartar's account.) Steady ... Woa! (Same business repeated; horse evidently feeling that he is the victim of a practical joke, and depressed. Finally, Professor says "Woa!" without pulling, and horse thinks it better to take the hint.)
Paterf. Wonder where I could get that apparatus—just the thing for Tartar!
His Daughter. But you would have to lay down such a lot of sawdust first. And it might teach him to kneel down whenever you said "Woa!" you know, and that wouldn't do!
Paterf. Um! No. Never thought of that.
Prof. I will now introduce To his notice the Bass Drum. (The two Grooms dance about the horse, banging a drum and clashing cymbals, at which he shies consumedly. Gradually he appears to realise that his lines have fallen among lunatics, and that his wisest policy is to humour them. He does so, even to the extent of suffering the big drum to be beaten on his head with patient disgust.)
The Daughter. You might try that with Tartar, Father. You could have the dinner-gong, you know.