Lady W. And yet, sir Willoughby, you must acknowledge that my time is ever dedicated to that proper vigilance which the superintendance of so large an establishment undoubtedly requires.
Sir W. Why, true, my love; but somehow I can’t help thinking, that, as my fortune is so ample, it is quite unnecessary that you should undergo so much fatigue: for instance, I do think that the wife of a baronet of 12,000l. a year owes it to her rank to be otherwise employed than in hunting after the housemaid, or sacrificing her time in the storeroom in counting candles, or weighing out soap, starch, powder-blue, and brown sugar.
Lady W. (in tears) This is unkind, sir Willoughby, this is very unkind.
Sir W. So! as usual, here’s a breeze springing up. What the devil shall I say to sooth her? Wife, wife! you drive me mad. You first beg me to scold you, and then are offended because I obligingly comply with your request.
Lady W. No, sir Willoughby, I am only surprised that you should so little know the value of a wife who daily degrades herself for your advantage.
Sir W. That’s the very thing I complain of. You do degrade yourself. Your economy, my life, is downright parsimony: your vigilance is suspicion; your management is meanness; and you fidget your servants till you make them fretful, and then prudently discharge them because they will live with you no longer. Hey! ods life, I must sooth her: for if company comes, and finds her in this humour, my dear-bought reputation as a good husband is lost forever. (Enter servant with breakfast.) Come, come, my dear lady Worret, let us go to breakfast, come (sitting down to breakfast) let us talk of something else. Come, take your tea.
Lady W. (to servant) Send William to speak to me. [Exit servant.
Sir W. Where’s Helen?
Lady W. I have desired her to copy a few articles into the family receipt book before breakfast; for as her marriage will so shortly take place, it is necessary she should complete her studies.
Sir W. What, she’s at work, I suppose, on the third folio volume.