Ven. O, that's good manners, my lord; the mother for her age must go foremost, you know.
Lus. Thou'st spoke that true! but where comes in this comfort?
Ven. In a fine place, my lord,—the unnatural mother
Did with her tongue so hard beset her honour,
That the poor fool was struck to silent wonder;
Yet still the maid, like an unlighted taper,
Was cold and chaste, save that her mother's breath
Did blow fire on her cheeks. The girl departed;
But the good ancient madam, half mad, threw me
These promising words, which I took deeply note of:
My lord shall be most welcome——
Lus. Faith, I thank her.
Ven. When his pleasure conducts him this way——
Lus. That shall be soon, i' faith.
Ven. I will sway mine own——
Lus. She does the wiser: I commend her for't.
Ven. Women with women can work best alone.