Sweet bred-up youths, to be a credit to me.
There's your delight again, pray take him to ye,
He never comes near me more to debase me.
Bar.
How's this? how's this? good wife, how, has he wrong'd ye?
Ama.
I was fain to drive him like a sheep before me,
I blush to think how people fleer'd, and scorn'd me.
Others have handsome men, that know behaviour,
Place, and observance: this silly thing knows nothing,