Dor. Surely, teachers and prophets.
SCENE II.
Enter Bannswright.
Aur. O Master Bannswright, are you come!
My woman
Was in her preaching fit: she only wanted
A table's end.
Ban. Why, what's the matter?
Aur. Never
Poor lady had so much unbred holiness
About her person; I am never dress'd
Without a sermon; but am forc'd to prove
The lawfulness of curling-irons, before
She'll crisp me in a morning. I must show
Text for the fashions of my gowns. She'll ask
Where jewels are commanded? or what lady
I' th' primitive times wore ropes of pearl or rubies?
She will urge councils for her little ruff,
Call'd in Northamptonshire;[196] and her whole service
Is a mere confutation of my clothes.
Ban. Why, madam, I assure you, time hath been,
However she be otherwise, when she had
A good quick wit, and would have made to a lady
A serviceable sinner.
Aur. She can't preserve
The gift, for which I took her; but, as though
She were inspir'd from Ipswich,[197] she will make
The Acts and Monuments in sweetmeats, quinces
Arraign'd and burnt at a stake: all my banquets
Are persecutions; Dioclesian's days
Are brought for entertainment, and we eat martyrs.
Ban. Madam, she is far gone.
Aur. Nay, sir, she is a Puritan at her needle too.