In my sheltering arm;
Do their work and their play in a mannerly way
And go holding their nose, and tipped on their
toes,
If they pass through a street, that they'll not soil
their feet.
2nd Dowager Messenger: And next to good
manners and next to good looks ...
Guardian:
I know what you'll say ...she asks news of the cooks;
I'm with her in putting them equal to books;
There's some rule by coaxing and some rule by beating,
But my principle is, tempt them on with good eating.
When everything's said, isn't Sparta as dead
As many a place never heard of black bread?
And as to a lad who a tartlet refuses,—
If Cato stewed parsnips he hated the Muses!
1st Dowager Messenger: And at meals are they
taught to behave as they ought?
Guardian:
You'll be well satisfied and the Queen will have pride,
You will see every Prince use a fork with his mince,
And eating his peas like Alcibiades,
Who would sooner go mute than play on the flute
Lest it made him grimace and contorted his face.