The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—My dear sir, I am afraid you are growing warm. Pray be cool. Nothing contributes so much to good digestion as to be perfectly cool after dinner.
Mr. Crotchet.—Sir, the Lacedæmonian virgins wrestled naked with young men; and they grew up, as the wise Lycurgus had foreseen, into the most modest of women, and the most exemplary of wives and mothers.
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—Very likely, sir; but the Athenian virgins did no such thing, and they grew up into wives who stayed at home—stayed at home, sir; and looked after their husbands’ dinner—his dinner, sir, you will please to observe.
Mr. Crotchet.—And what was the consequence of that, sir? that they were such very insipid persons that the husband would not go home to eat his dinner, but preferred the company of some Aspasia, or Lais.
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—Two very different persons, sir, give me leave to remark.
Mr. Crotchet.—Very likely, sir; but both too good to be married in Athens.
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—Sir, Lais was a Corinthian.
Mr. Crotchet.—Od’s vengeance, sir, some Aspasia and any other Athenian name of the same sort of person you like—
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—I do not like the sort of person at all: the sort of person I like, as I have already implied, is a modest woman, who stays at home and looks after her husband’s dinner.
Mr. Crotchet.—Well, sir, that was not the taste of the Athenians. They preferred the society of women who would not have made any scruple about sitting as models to Praxiteles; as you know, sir, very modest women in Italy did to Canova; one of whom, an Italian countess, being asked by an English lady, “how she could bear it?” answered, “Very well; there was a good fire in the room.”