Shall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy."
"Now, Socrates, dearest," Xantippe replied,
"I hate to hear every thing vulgarly my'd;
Now, whenever you speak of your chattels again,
Say, our cow house, our barn yard, our pig pen."
"By your leave, Mrs. Snooks, I will say what I please
Of my houses, my lands, my gardens, my trees."
"Say our," Xantippe exclaimed in a rage.
"I won't, Mrs. Snooks, though you ask it an age!"
Oh, woman! though only a part of man's rib,