Mir. Yes.
Lil. Learn to hold your peace then,
Fond Girls are got with tongues, women with tempers.
Mir. Women, with I know what; but let this vanish:
Go thy way good Wife Bias; sure thy Husband
Must have a strong Philosophers stone, he will ne'r please thee else.
Here's a starcht piece of austerity; do you hear, Father?
Do you hear this moral Lecture?
La-C. Yes, and like it.
Mir. Why, there's your judgment now; there's an old bolt shot:
This thing must have the strangest observation,
Do you mark me (father?) when she is married once,
The strangest custom too of admiration
On all she does and speaks, 'twill be past sufferance;
I must not lie with her in common language,
Nor cry have at thee, Kate, I shall be hiss'd then;
Nor eat my meat without the sawce of sentences,
Your powder'd Beef, and Problems, a rare diet;
My first Son, Monsieur Aristotle, I know it,
Great Master of the Metaphysicks, or so;
The second Solon, and the best Law-setter;
And I must look Egyptian God-fathers,
Which will be no small trouble: my eldest daughter
Sapho, or such a fidling kind of Poetess,
And brought up, invita Minerva, at her needle.
My dogs must look their names too, and all Spartan,
Lelaps, Melampus; no more Fox and Baudiface.
I married to a sullen set of sentences?
To one that weighs her words and her behaviours
In the gold-weights of discretion? I'll be hang'd first.
La-C. Prithee reclaim thy self.
Mir. 'Pray ye give me time then;
If they can set me any thing to play at,
That seems fit for a Gamester, have at the fairest
Till I see more, and try more.
La-C. Take your time then,
I'll bar ye no fair liberty: come Gentlemen,
And Ladies come: to all once more welcome,
And now let's in to supper.
Mir. How dost' like 'em?
Pin. They are fair enough, but of so strange behaviours.