Fa. Indeed the Tongue is a Woman's Weapon; but you Men are not without it neither.
Eu. Perhaps so, but where is your little Boy?
Fa. In the next Room.
Eu. What is he doing there, cooking the Pot?
Fa. You Trifler, he's with his Nurse.
Eu. What Nurse do you talk of? Has he any Nurse but his Mother?
Fa. Why not? It is the Fashion.
Eu. You quote the worst Author in the World, Fabulla, the Fashion; 'tis the Fashion to do amiss, to game, to whore, to cheat, to be drunk, and to play the Rake.
Fa. My Friends would have it so; they were of Opinion I ought to favour myself, being young.
Eu. But if Nature gives Strength to conceive, it doubtless gives Strength to give Suck too.