Mrs Nutts. And just like a good many of ’em. There’s Nutts there, for all his fine perlitical principles, I’ve often told him—and Lord Bacon makes it true—that he wouldn’t mind giving his wife and children to anybody, so he wasn’t troubled with ’em. Only he’s not likely to give them to fortune, as the lord tells of—not he, indeed; more like to force his poor wife to another Union; well, it can’t be worse than the first.
Chapter XIV.
Slowgoe, Tickle, Peabody, and others waiting. Mrs Nutts comes from back room.
Tickle. Why, Mrs Nutts, where’s the master? Not gone to Brighton and left you to shave?
Mrs Nutts. Ha, Mr Tickle! I only wish I could shave. I’ve often said it ’ud be a nice light business for us poor women. I only wish I could shave! Anything to get money one’s self; anything rather than be going to a man’s pocket for every farden. Why—I’ve often asked it—why shouldn’t women shave?
Slowgoe. Nonsense! Taking men by the nose! Men—the rulers of the world! Pooh! what revolution, I should like to know, next?
Mrs Nutts. Rulers of the world! Ha, the world never will run right, Mr Slowgoe, till women put their hands a little more to it. And as for taking you rulers by the noses, I don’t think any of you need turn ’em up for that. I’m sure you men monopolise everything. Very little you leave us to do; and what we could do, you won’t let us; and for this reason, in course, to keep us your slaves. I only wish I was the Queen of England! Wouldn’t I set the example of shaving, that’s all?
Tickle. Why, how, Mrs Nutts? how?