Horn. So is that soft, gentle, tame, and more noble creature a spaniel, and has all their tricks; can fawn, lie down, suffer beating, and fawn the more; barks at your friends when they come to see you, makes your bed hard, gives you fleas, and the mange sometimes. And all the difference is, the spaniel's the more faithful animal, and fawns but upon one master.
Sir Jasp. He! he! he!
Mrs. Squeam. O the rude beast!
Mrs. Dain. Insolent brute!
Lady Fid. Brute! stinking, mortified, rotten French wether, to dare—
Sir Jasp. Hold, an't please your ladyship.—For shame, Master Horner! your mother was a woman—[Aside.] Now shall I never reconcile 'em.—[Aside to Lady Fidget.] Hark you, madam, take my advice in your anger. You know you often want one to make up your drolling pack of ombre players, and you may cheat him easily; for he's an ill gamester, and consequently loves play. Besides, you know you have but two old civil gentlemen (with stinking breaths too) to wait upon you abroad; take in the third into your service. The other are but crazy; and a lady should have a supernumerary gentleman-usher as a supernumerary coach-horse, lest sometimes you should be forced to stay at home.
Lady Fid. But are you sure he loves play, and has money?
Sir Jasp. He loves play as much as you, and has money as much as I.
Lady Fid. Then I am contented to make him pay for his scurrility. Money makes up in a measure all other wants in men.—Those whom we cannot make hold for gallants, we make fine. [Aside.