Don. Dost thou deride my Spanish hose, young man, hauh?
Mons. In comparison of pantaloon, I do undervalue 'em indeed, Don Diego, mon oncle, ha! ha! ha!
Don. Thou art then a gabacho[61] de mal gusto, look you.
Mons. You may call me vat you vill, oncle Don Diego; but I must needs say, your Spanish hose are scurvy hose, ugly hose, lousy hose, and stinking hose.
Don. Do not provoke me, borracho! [Puts his hand to his sword.
Mons. Indeet, as for lousy, I recant dat epithete, for dere is scarce room in 'em for dat little animal, ha! ha! ha! but for stinking hose, dat epithete may stand; for how can they choose but stink, since they are so furieusement close to your Spanish tail, da?
Hip. Ha! ha! ridiculous! [Aside.
Don. Do not provoke me, I say, en hora mala! [Seems to draw.
Mons. Nay, oncle, I am sorry you are in de pation; but I must live and die for de pantaloon against de Spanish hose, da.