FRAN. Come, come, you shall not.
PHIL. I'faith, I will.
[Exeunt.
Enter MASTER BARNES and his Wife.
MR BAR. Wife, in my mind to-day you were to blame,
Although my patience did not blame ye for it:
Methought the rules of love and neighbourhood
Did not direct your thoughts; all indiscreet[245]
Were your proceedings in the entertain
Of them that I invited to my house.
Nay, stay, I do not chide, but counsel, wife,
And in the mildest manner that I may:
You need not view me with a servant's eye,
Whose vassal[246] senses tremble at the look
Of his displeased master. O my wife,
You are myself! when self sees fault in self,
Self is sin-obstinate, if self amend not:
Indeed, I saw a fault in thee myself,
And it hath set a foil upon thy fame,
Not as the foil doth grace the diamond.
MRS BAR. What fault, sir, did you see in me to-day?
MR BAR. O, do not set the organ of thy voice
On such a grunting key of discontent!
Do not deform the beauty of thy tongue
With such misshapen answers. Rough wrathful words
Are bastards got by rashness in the thoughts:
Fair demeanours are virtue's nuptial babes,
The offspring of the well-instructed soul;
O, let them call thee mother, then, my wife!
So seem not barren of good courtesy.
MRS BAR. So; have ye done?
MR BAR. Ay, and I had done well,
If you would do what I advise for well.
MRS BAR. What's that?