1st Woman. What! snoring still? ’Tis nearly time to wake her
To do her penance.
2d Woman. Wait a while, for love:
Indeed, I am almost ashamed to punish
A bag of skin and bones.
1st Woman. ’Tis for her good:
She has had her share of pleasure in this life
With her gay husband; she must have her pain.
We bear it as a thing of course; we know
What mortifications are, although I say it
That should not.
2d Woman. Why, since my old tyrant died,
Fasting I’ve sought the Lord, like any Anna,
And never tasted fish, nor flesh, nor fowl,
And little stronger than water.
1st Woman. Plague on this watching!
What work, to make a saint of a fine lady!
See now, if she had been some labourer’s daughter,
She might have saved herself, for aught he cared;
But now—
2d Woman. Hush! here the master comes:
I hear him.—
[Conrad enters.]
Con. My peace, most holy, wise, and watchful wardens!
She sleeps? Well, what complaints have you to bring
Since last we met? How? blowing up the fire?
Cold is the true saint’s element—he thrives
Like Alpine gentians, where the frost is keenest—
For there Heaven’s nearest—and the ether purest—
[Aside] And he most bitter.
2d Woman. Ah! sweet master,
We are not yet as perfect as yourself.
Con. But how has she behaved?