leave his robes and his ceremonies! how ready the man is to abase himself, when, escaped from his part, he comes to his real self! how the ape and the dog crop up in him! The senator Antonio comes to his Aquilina, who insults him; he is amused; hard words are a relief to compliments; he speaks in a shrill voice, runs into a falsetto like a zany at a country fair: "_Antonio._ Nacky, Nacky, Nacky--how dost do, Nacky? Hurry, durry. I am come, little Nacky. Past eleven o'clock, a late hour; time in all conscience to go to bed, Nacky.--Nacky did I say? Ay, Nacky, Aquilina, lina, lina, quilina; Aquilina, Naquilina, Acky, Nacky, queen Nacky.--Come, let's to bed.--You fubbs, you pug you--You little puss.--Purree tuzzy--I am a senator. _Aquilina._ You are a fool, I am sure. _Antonio._ May be so too, sweet-heart. Never the worse senator for all that. Come, Nacky, Nacky; let's have a game at romp, Nacky! ... You won't sit down? Then look you now; suppose me a bull, a Basan-bull, the bull of bulls, or any bull. Thus up I get, and with my brows thus bent--I broo; I say I broo, I broo, I broo. You won't sit down, will you---I broo.... Now, I'll be a senator again, and thy lover, little Nicky, Nacky. Ah, toad, toad, toad, toad, spit in my face a little, Nacky; spit in my face, pry'thee, spit in my face, never so little; spit but a little bit--spit, spit, spit, spit when you are bid, I say; do pry'thee, spit.--Now, now spit. What, you won't spit, will you? Then I'll be a dog. _Aquilina._ A dog, my lord! _Antonio._ Ay a dog, and I'll give thee this t'other purse to let me be a dog--and to use me like a dog a little. Hurry durry, I will--here 'tis. (Gives the purse.)... Now bough waugh waugh, bough, waugh. _Aquilina._ Hold, hold, sir. If curs bite, they must be kicked, sir. Do you see, kicked thus? _Antonio._ Ay, with all my heart. Do, kick, kick on, now I am under the table, kick again--kick harder--harder yet--bough, waugh, waugh, bough.--Odd, I'll have a snap at thy shins.--Bough, waugh, waugh, waugh, bough--odd, she kicks bravely."[429] At last she takes a whip, thrashes him soundly, and turns him out of the house. He will return, we may be sure of that; he has spent a pleasant evening; he rubs his back, but he was amused. In short, he was but a clown who had missed his vocation, whom chance has given an embroidered silk gown, and who turns out at so much an hour political harlequinades. He feels more natural, more at his ease, playing Punch than aping a statesman.