No More Learning

_ They say, that the Authority of a Parent does not hinder a Child
from entering into a religious Life.

_Eu. _ Did you not make Profession of Religion in your Baptism?

_Ca. _ Yes.

_Eu. _ And are not they religious Persons that conform to the Precepts of
Christ?

_Ca. _ They are so.

_Eu. _ What new Religion is that then, which makes that void, that the
Law of Nature had establish'd? What the old Law hath taught, and the
Gospel approv'd, and the Apostles confirm'd? That is an Ordinance that
never came from Heaven, but was hatch'd by a Company of Monks in their
Cells. And after this Manner, some of them undertake to justify a
Marriage between a Boy and a Girl, though without the Privity, and
against the Consent of their Parents; if the Contract be (as they phrase
it) in Words of the present Tense. And yet that Position is neither
according to the Dictate of Nature, the Law of _Moses_, or the Doctrine
of _Christ_ or his Apostles.

_Ca. _ Do you think then, that I may not espouse myself to Christ without
my Parents Consent?

_Eu. _ I say, you have espous'd him already, and so we have all. Where is
the Woman that marries the same Man twice? The Question is here only
about Places, Garments and Ceremonies. I don't think Duty to Parents is
to be abandon'd for the Sake of these Things; and you ought to look to
it, that instead of espousing Christ, you don't espouse some Body else.

_Ca. _ But I am told, that in this Case it is a Piece of the highest
Sanctity, even to contemn ones Parents.

_Eu. _ Pray, require these Doctors to shew you a Text for it, out of the
holy Scriptures, that teach this Doctrine; but if they can't do this,
bid them drink off a good large Bumper of _Burgundian_ Wine: That they
can do bravely. It is indeed a Piece of Piety to fly from wicked Parents
to Christ: But to fly from pious Parents to a Monkery, that is (as it
too often proves) to fly from ought to stark naught. What Pity is that I
pray? Although in old Time, he that was converted from Paganism to
Christianity, paid yet as great a Reverence to his idolatrous Parents,
as it was possible to do without prejudice to Religion itself.

_Ca. _ Are you then against the main Institution of a monastick Life?

_Eu. _ No, by no Means: But as I will not persuade any Body against it,
that is already engag'd in this Sort of Life, to endeavour to get out of
it, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young Women; especially
those of generous Tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedly
into that State from whence there is no getting out afterwards: And the
rather, because their Chastity is more in Danger in a Cloyster than out
of it; and beside that, you may do whatsoever is done there as well at
Home.

_Ca. _ You have indeed urg'd many, and very considerable Arguments; yet
this Affection of mine can't be removed.

_Eu. _ If I can't dissuade you from it, as I wish heartily I could,
however, remember this one Thing, that _Eubulus_ told you before Hand.
In the mean Time, out of the Love I bear you, I wish your Inclinations
may succeed better than my Counsel.




_The PENITENT VIRGIN. _


The ARGUMENT.

_A Virgin repenting before she had profess'd herself,
goes Home again to her Parents. The crafty Tricks of the
Monks are detected, who terrify and frighten
unexperienced Minds into their Cloysters, by feign'd
Apparitions and Visions_.


EUBULUS, CATHERINE.

_Eu. _ I could always wish to have such a Porter.

_Ca. _ And I to have such Visitors.

_Eu. _ But fare you well, _Kitty_.

_Ca. _ What's the Matter, do you take Leave before you salute?

_Eu. _ I did not come hither to see you cry: What's the Matter, that as
soon as ever you see me, the Tears stand in your Eyes?

_Ca. _ Why in such Haste? Stay a little; pray stay. I'll put on my better
Looks, and we'll be merry together.

_Eu. _ What Sort of Cattle have we got here?

_Ca. _ 'Tis the Patriarch of the College: Don't go away, they have had
their Dose of Fuddle: Stay but a little While, and as soon as he is
gone, we will discourse as we use to do.

_Eu. _ Well, I'll be so good natur'd as to hearken to you, though you
would not to me. Now we are alone, you must tell me the whole Story, I
would fain have it from your Mouth.

_Ca. _ Now I have found by Experience, of all my Friends, which I took to
be very wise Men too, that no Body gave more wise and grave Advice than
you, that are the youngest of 'em all.

_Eu. _ Tell me, how did you get your Parents Consent at last?

_Ca. _ First, by the restless Sollicitations of the Monks and Nuns, and
then by my own Importunities and Tears, my Mother was at length brought
over; but my Father stood out stiffly still: But at last being ply'd by
several Engines, he was prevail'd upon to yield; but yet, rather like
one that was forced, than that consented. The Matter was concluded in
their Cups, and they preach'd Damnation to him, if he refus'd to let
Christ have his Spouse.

_Eu. _ O the Villany of Fools! But what then?

_Ca. _ I was kept close at Home for three Days; but in the mean Time
there were always with me some Women of the College that they call
_Convertites_, mightily encouraging me to persist in my holy Resolution,
and watching me narrowly, lest any of my Friends or Kindred should come
at me, and make me alter my Mind. In the mean While, my Habit was making
ready, and the Provision for the Feast.

_Eu. _ How did you find yourself? Did not your Mind misgive you yet?

_Ca. _ No, not at all; and yet I was so horridly frighted, that I had
rather die ten Times over, than suffer the same again.

_Eu. _ What was that, pray?

_Ca. _ It is not to be uttered.

_Eu. _ Come, tell me freely, you know I'm your Friend.

_Ca. _ Will you keep Counsel?

_Eu. _ I should do that without promising, and I hope you know me better
than to doubt of it.

_Ca. _ I had a most dreadful Apparition.

_Eu. _ Perhaps it was your evil Genius that push'd you on to this.

_Ca. _ I am fully persuaded it was an evil Spirit.

_Eu. _ Tell me what Shape it was in. Was it such as we use to paint with
a crooked Beak, long Horns, Harpies Claws, and swinging Tail?

_Ca. _ You make a Game of it, but I had rather sink into the Earth, than
see such another.

_Eu. _ And were your Women Sollicitresses with you then?

_Ca. _ No, nor I would not so much as open my Lips of it to them, though
they sifted me most particularly about it, when they found me almost
dead with the Surprise.

_Eu. _ Shall I tell you what it was?

_Ca. _ Do if you can.

_Eu. _ Those Women had certainly bewitch'd you, or conjur'd your Brain
out of your Head rather. But did you persist in your Resolution still,
for all this?

_Ca. _ Yes, for they told me, that many were thus troubled upon their
first consecrating themselves to Christ; but if they got the better of
the Devil that Bout, he'd let them alone for ever after.

_Eu. _ Well, what Pomp were you carried out with?

_Ca. _ They put on all my Finery, let down my Hair, and dress'd me just
as if it had been for my Wedding.

_Eu. _ To a fat Monk, perhaps; Hem! a Mischief take this Cough.

_Ca. _ I was carried from my Father's House to the College by broad
Day-Light, and a World of People staring at me.

_Eu. _ O these Scaramouches, how they know to wheedle the poor People!
How many Days did you continue in that holy College of Virgins,
forsooth?

_Ca. _ Till Part of the twelfth Day.

_Eu. _ But what was it that changed your Mind, that had been so
resolutely bent upon it?

_Ca. _ I must not tell you what it was, but it was something very
considerable. When I had been there six Days, I sent for my Mother; I
begged of her, and besought her, as she lov'd my Life, to get me out of
the College again. She would not hear on't, but bad me hold to my
Resolution. Upon that I sent for my Father, but he chid me too, telling
me, that I had made him master his Affections, and that now he'd make me
master mine, and not disgrace him, by starting from my Purpose. At last,
when I saw that I could do no good with them this Way, I told my Father
and Mother both, that to please them, I would submit to die, and that
would certainly be my Fate, if they did not take me out, and that very
quickly too; and upon this, they took me Home.

_Eu. _ It was very well that you recanted before you had profess'd
yourself for good and all: But still, I don't hear what it was changed
your Mind so suddenly.

_Ca. _ I never told any Mortal yet, nor shall.

_Eu. _ What if I should guess?

_Ca. _ I'm sure you can't guess it; and if you do, I won't tell you.

_Eu. _ Well, for all that, I guess what it was. But in the mean Time, you
have been at a great Charge.

_Ca. _ Above 400 Crowns.

_Eu. _ O these guttling Nuptials! Well, but I am glad though the Money is
gone, that you're safe: For the Time to come, hearken to good Counsel
when it is given you.

_Ca. _ So I will. _The burnt Child dreads the Fire. _




_The UNEASY WIFE. _


The ARGUMENT.

_This Colloquy, entitled_, The uneasy Wife: _Or_, Uxor
[Greek: Mempsigamos], _treats of many Things that relate
to the mutual Nourishment of conjugal Affection.
Concerning the concealing a Husband's Faults; of not
interrupting conjugal Benevolence; of making up
Differences; of mending a Husband's Manners; of a Woman's
Condescension to her Husband. What is the Beauty of a
Woman; she disgraces herself, that disgraces her Husband;
that the Wife ought to submit to the Husband; that the
Husband ought not to be out of Humour when the Wife is;
and on the Contrary; that they ought to study mutual
Concord, since there is no Room for Advice; that they
ought to conceal one another's Faults, and not expose one
another; that it is in the Power of the Wife to mend her
Husband; that she ought to carry herself engagingly,
learn his Humour, what provokes him or appeases him; that
all Things be in Order at Home; that he have what he
likes best to eat; that if the Husband be vext, the Wife
don't laugh; if he be angry, that she should speak
pleasantly to him, or hold her Tongue; that what she
blames him for, should be betwixt themselves; the Method
of admonishing; that she ought to make her Complaint to
no Body but her Husband's Parents; or to some peculiar
Friends that have an Influence upon him. The Example of a
prudent Man, excellently managing a young morose Wife, by
making his Complaint to her Father. Another of a prudent
Wife, that by her good Carriage reformed a Husband that
frequented leud Company, Another of a Man that had beaten
his Wife in his angry Fit; that Husbands are to be
overcome, brought into Temper by Mildness, Sweetness, and
Kindness; that there should be no Contention in the
Chamber or in the Bed; but that Care should be taken,
that nothing but Pleasantness and Engagingness be there.
The Girdle of_ Venus _is Agreeableness of Manners.
Children make a mutual Amity. That a Woman separated from
her Husband, is nothing: Let her always be mindful of the
Respect that is due to a Husband. _


EULALIA, XANTIPPE.

_EU. _ Most welcome _Xantippe_, a good Morning to you.

_Xa. _ I wish you the same, my dear _Eulalia_. Methinks you look prettier
than you use to do.

_Eu. _ What, do you begin to banter me already?

_Xa. _ No, upon my Word, for you seem so to me.

_Eu. _ Perhaps then my new Cloaths may set me off to Advantage.

_Xa. _ You guess right, it is one of the prettiest Suits I ever beheld in
all my Life. It is _English_ Cloth, I suppose.

_Eu. _ It is indeed of _English_ Wool, but it is a _Venetian_ Dye.

_Xa. _ It is as soft as Silk, and 'tis a charming Purple. Who gave you
this fine Present?

_Eu. _ My Husband. From whom should a virtuous Wife receive Presents but
from him?

_Xa. _ Well, you are a happy Woman, that you are, to have such a good
Husband. For my Part, I wish I had been married to a Mushroom when I was
married to my _Nick_.

_Eu. _ Why so, pray? What! is it come to an open Rupture between you
already?

_Xa. _ There is no Possibility of agreeing with such a one as I have got.
You see what a ragged Condition I am in; so he lets me go like a Dowdy!
May I never stir, if I an't asham'd to go out of Doors any whither, when
I see how fine other Women are, whose Husbands are nothing nigh so rich
as mine is.

_Eu. _ The Ornament of a Matron does not consist in fine Cloaths or other
Deckings of the Body, as the Apostle _Peter_ teaches, for I heard that
lately in a Sermon; but in chaste and modest Behaviour, and the
Ornaments of the Mind. Whores are trick'd up to take the Eyes of many
but we are well enough drest, if we do but please our own Husbands.

_Xa. _ But mean while this worthy Tool of mine, that is so sparing toward
his Wife, lavishly squanders away the Portion I brought along with me,
which by the Way was not a mean one.

_Eu. _ In what?

_Xa. _ Why, as the Maggot bites, sometimes at the Tavern, sometimes upon
his Whores, sometimes a gaming.

_Eu. _ O fie, you should never say so of your Husband.

_Xa. _ But I'm sure 'tis too true; and then when he comes Home, after I
have been waiting for him till I don't know what Time at Night, as drunk
as _David's_ Sow, he does nothing but lye snoring all Night long by my
Side, and sometimes bespues the Bed too, to say nothing more.

_Eu. _ Hold your Tongue: You disgrace yourself in disgracing your
Husband.

_Xa. _ Let me dye, if I had not rather lye with a Swine than such a
Husband as I have got.

_Eu. _ Don't you scold at him then?

_Xa. _ Yes, indeed, I use him as he deserves. He finds I have got a
Tongue in my Head.

_Eu. _ Well, and what does he say to you again?

_Xa. _ At first he used to hector at me lustily, thinking to fright me
with his big Words.

_Eu. _ Well, and did your Words never come to downright Blows?

_Xa. _ Once, and but once, and then the Quarrel rose to that Height on
both Sides, that we were within an Ace of going to Fisty-Cuffs.

_Eu. _ How, Woman! say you so?

_Xa. _ He held up his Stick at me, swearing and cursing like a
Foot-Soldier, and threatening me dreadfully.

_Eu. _ Were not you afraid then?

_Xa. _ Nay, I snatch'd up a three legg'd Stool, and if he had but touch'd
me with his Finger, he should have known he had to do with a Woman of
Spirit.

_Eu. _ Ah! my _Xantippe_, that was not becoming.

_Xa. _ What becoming? If he does not use me like a Wife, I won't use him
like a Husband.

_Eu. _ But St. _Paul_ teaches, that Wives ought to be subject to their
own Husbands with all Reverence. And St. _Peter_ proposes the Example of
_Sarah_ to us, who call'd her Husband _Abraham_ Lord.

_Xa. _ I have heard those Things, but the same _Paul_ likewise teaches
that _Men should love their Wives as Christ lov'd his Spouse the
Church_. Let him remember his Duty and I'll remember mine.

_Eu. _ But nevertheless when Things are come to that Pass that one must
submit to the other, it is but reasonable that the Wife submit to her
Husband.

_Xa. _ Yes indeed, if he deserves the Name of a Husband who uses me like
a Kitchen Wench.

_Eu. _ But tell me, _Xantippe_, did he leave off threatening after this?

_Xa. _ He did leave off, and it was his Wisdom so to do, or else he would
have been thresh'd.

_Eu. _ But did not you leave off Scolding at him?

_Xa. _ No, nor never will.

_Eu. _ But what does he do in the mean Time?

_Xa. _ What! Why sometimes he pretends himself to be fast asleep, and
sometimes does nothing in the World but laugh at me; sometimes he
catches up his Fiddle that has but three Strings, scraping upon it with
all his Might, and drowns the Noise of my Bawling.

_Eu. _ And does not that vex you to the Heart?

_Xa. _ Ay, so that it is impossible to be express'd, so that sometimes I
can scarce keep my Hands off of him.

_Eu. _ Well, my _Xantippe_, give me Leave to talk a little freely with
you.

_Xa. _ I do give you Leave.

_Eu. _ Nay, you shall use the same Freedom with me. Our Intimacy, which
has been in a Manner from our very Cradles, requires this.

_Xa. _ You say true, nor was there any of my Playfellows that I more
dearly lov'd than you.

_Eu. _ Let your Husband be as bad as bad can be, think upon this, That
there is no changing. Heretofore, indeed, Divorce was a Remedy for
irreconcilable Disagreements, but now this is entirely taken away: He
must be your Husband and you his Wife to the very last Day of Life.

_Xa. _ The Gods did very wrong that depriv'd us of this Privilege.

_Eu. _ Have a Care what you say. It was the Will of Christ.

_Xa. _ I can scarce believe it.

_Eu. _ It is as I tell you. Now you have nothing left to do but to study
to suit your Tempers and Dispositions one to another, and agree
together.

_Xa. _ Do you think, I can be able to new-make him?

_Eu. _ It does not a little depend upon the Wives, what Men Husbands
shall be.

_Xa. _ Do you and your Husband agree very well together?

_Eu. _ All is quiet with us now.

_Xa. _ Well then, you had some Difference at first.

_Eu. _ Never any Thing of a Storm; but yet, as it is common with human
Kind, sometimes a few small Clouds would rise, which might have produc'd
a Storm, if it had not been prevented by Condescention. Every one has
his Humours, and every one their Fancies, and if we would honestly speak
the Truth, every one his Faults, more or less, which if in any State,
certainly in Matrimony we ought to connive at, and not to hate.

_Xa. _ You speak very right.

_Eu. _ It frequently happens that that mutual Love that ought to be
between the Husband and Wife is cooled before they come to be throughly
acquainted one with another. This is the first Thing that ought to be
provided against; for when a Spirit of Dissention is once sprung up, it
is a difficult Matter to bring them to a Reconciliation, especially if
it ever proceeded so far as to come to reproachful Reflections. Those
Things that are joined together with Glue, are easily pull'd one from
another if they be handled roughly as soon as done, but when once they
have been fast united together, and the Glue is dry, there is nothing
more firm. For this Reason, all the Care possible is to be taken that
good Will between Man and Wife be cultivated and confirmed even in the
Infancy of Matrimony. This is principally effected by Obsequiousness,
and an Agreeableness of Tempers. For that Love that is founded only upon
Beauty, is for the most part but short-liv'd.

_Xa. _ But prithee tell me by what Arts you brought your Husband to your
Humour.

_Eu. _ I'll tell you for this End, that you may copy after me.

_Xa. _ Well, I will, if I can.

_Eu. _ It will be very easy to do, if you will; nor is it too late yet;
for he is in the Flower of his Youth, and you are but a Girl; and as I
take it, have not been married this Twelve Months yet.

_Xa. _ You are very right.

_Eu. _ Then I'll tell you; but upon Condition, that you'll not speak of
it.

_Xa. _ Well, I will not.

_Eu. _ It was my first Care that I might please my Husband in every
Respect, that nothing might give him Offence. I diligently observed his
Inclinations and Temper, and also observed what were his easiest
Moments, what Things pleas'd him, and what vex'd him, as they use to do
who tame _Elephants_ and _Lions_, or such Sort of Creatures, that can't
be master'd by downright Strength.

_Xa. _ And such an Animal have I at Home.

_Eu. _ Those that go near Elephants, wear no Garment that is white; nor
those who manage Bulls, red; because it is found by Experience, that
these Creatures are made fierce by these Colours, just as Tygers are
made so raging mad by the Sound of a Drum, that they will tear their own
selves; and Jockies have particular Sounds, and Whistles, and
Stroakings, and other Methods to sooth Horses that are mettlesome: How
much more does it become us to use these Acts towards our Husbands, with
whom, whether we will or no, we must live all our Lives at Bed and
Board?

_Xa. _ Well, go on with what you have begun.

_Eu. _ Having found out his Humour, I accommodated myself to him, taking
Care that nothing should offend him.

_Xa. _ How could you do that?

_Eu. _ I was very diligent in the Care of my Family, which is the
peculiar Province of Women, that nothing was neglected, and that every
Thing should be suitable to his Temper, altho' it were in the most
minute Things.

_Xa. _ What Things?

_Eu. _ Suppose my Husband peculiarly fancied such a Dish of Meat, or
liked it dress'd after such a Manner; or if he lik'd his Bed made after
such or such a Manner.

_Xa. _ But how could you humour one who was never at Home, or was drunk?

_Eu. _ Have Patience, I was coming to that Point. If at any Time my
Husband seem'd to be melancholy, and did not much care for talking, I
did not laugh, and put on a gay Humour, as some Women are us'd to do;
but I put on a grave demure Countenance, as well as he. For as a
Looking-glass, if it be a true one, represents the Face of the Person
that looks into it, so a Wife ought to frame herself to the Temper of
her Husband, not to be chearful when he is melancholy, nor be merry when
he is in a Passion. And if at any Time he was in a Passion, I either
endeavoured to sooth him with fair Words, or held my Tongue till his
Passion was over; and having had Time to cool, Opportunity offered,
either of clearing myself, or of admonishing him. I took the same
Method, if at any Time he came Home fuddled, and at such a Time never
gave him any Thing but tender Language, that by kind Expressions, I
might get him to go to Bed.

_Xa. _ That is indeed a very unhappy Portion for Wives, if they must only
humour their Husbands, when they are in a Passion, and doing every Thing
that they have a Mind to do.

_Eu. _ As tho' this Duty were not reciprocal, and that our Husbands are
not forc'd to bear with many of our Humours: However, there is a Time,
when a Wife may take the Freedom in a Matter of some Importance to
advise her Husband; but as for small Faults, it is better to wink at
them.

_Xa. _ But what Time is that?

_Eu. _ When his Mind is serene; when he's neither in a Passion, nor in
the Hippo, nor in Liquor; then being in private, you may kindly advise
him, but rather intreat him, that he would act more prudently in this or
that Matter, relating either to his Estate, Reputation, or Health. And
this very Advice is to be season'd with witty Jests and Pleasantries.
Sometimes by Way of Preface, I make a Bargain with him before-Hand, that
he shall not be angry with me, if being a foolish Woman, I take upon me
to advise him in any Thing, that might seem to concern his Honour,
Health, or Preservation. When I have said what I had a Mind to say, I
break off that Discourse, and turn it into some other more entertaining
Subject. For, my _Xantippe_, this is the Fault of us Women, that when
once we have begun, we don't know when to make an End.

_Xa. _ Why, so they say, indeed.

_Eu. _ This chiefly I observed as a Rule, never to chide my Husband
before Company, nor to carry any Complaints out of Doors. What passes
between two People, is more easily made up, than when once it has taken
Air. Now if any Thing of that kind shall happen, that cannot be born
with, and that the Husband can't be cur'd by the Admonition of his Wife,
it is more prudent for the Wife to carry her Complaints to her Husband's
Parents and Kindred, than to her own; and so to soften her Complaint,
that she mayn't seem to hate her Husband, but her Husband's Vices: And
not to blab out all neither, that her Husband may tacitly own and love
his Wife for her Civility.

_Xa. _ A Woman must needs be a Philosopher, who can be able to do this.

_Eu. _ By this Deportment we invite our Husbands to return the Civility.

_Xa. _ But there are some Brutes in the World, whom you cannot amend, by
the utmost good Carriage.

_Eu. _ In Truth, I don't think it: But put the Case there are: First,
consider this; a Husband must be born with, let him be as bad as he
will. It is better therefore to bear with him as he is, or made a little
better by our courteous Temper, than by our Outrageousness to make him
grow every Day worse and worse. What if I should give Instances of
Husbands, who by the like civil Treatment have altered their Spouses
much for the better? How much more does it become us to use our Husbands
after this Manner?

_Xa. _ You will give an Instance then of a Man, that is as unlike my
Husband, as black is from white.

_Eu. _ I have the Honour to be acquainted with a Gentleman of a noble
Family; Learned, and of singular Address and Dexterity; he married a
young Lady, a Virgin of seventeen Years of Age, that had been educated
all along in the Country in her Father's House, as Men of Quality love
to reside in the Country, for the Sake of Hunting and Fowling: He had a
Mind to have a raw unexperienc'd Maid, that he might the more easily
form her Manners to his own Humour. He began to instruct her in
Literature and Musick, and to use her by Degrees to repeat the Heads of
Sermons, which she heard, and to accomplish her with other Things, which
would afterwards be of Use to her. Now these Things being wholly new to
the Girl, which had been brought up at Home, to do nothing but gossip
and play, she soon grew weary of this Life, she absolutely refus'd to
submit to what her Husband requir'd of her; and when her Husband press'd
her about it, she would cry continually, sometimes she would throw
herself flat on the Ground, and beat her Head against the Ground, as
tho' she wish'd for Death. Her Husband finding there was no End of this,
conceal'd his Resentment, gave his Wife an Invitation to go along with
him into the Country to his Father-in-Law's House, for the Sake of a
little Diversion. His Wife very readily obey'd him in this Matter. When
they came there, the Husband left his Wife with her Mother and Sisters,
and went a Hunting with his Father-in-Law; there having taken him aside
privately, he tells his Father-in-law, that whereas he was in good Hopes
to have had an agreeable Companion of his Daughter, he now had one that
was always a crying, and fretting herself; nor could she be cured by any
Admonitions, and intreats him to lend a helping Hand to cure his
Daughter's Disorder. His Father-in-Law made him answer, that he had once
put his Daughter into his Hand, and if she did not obey him, he might
use his Authority, and cudgel her into a due Submission. The Son-in-Law
replies, I know my own Power, but I had much rather she should be
reform'd by your Art or Authority, than to come to these Extremities.
The Father-in-Law promis'd him to take some Care about the Matter: So a
Day or two after, he takes a proper Time and Place, when he was alone
with his Daughter, and looking austerely upon her, begins in telling her
how homely she was, and how disagreeable as to her Disposition, and how
often he had been in Fear that he should never be able to get her a
Husband: But after much Pains, says he, I found you such a one, that the
best Lady of the Land would have been glad of; and yet, you not being
sensible what I have done for you, nor considering that you have such a
Husband, who if he were not the best natur'd Man in the World, would
scarce do you the Honour to take you for one of his Maid Servants, you
are disobedient to him: To make short of my Story, the Father grew so
hot in his Discourse, that he seem'd to be scarce able to keep his Hands
off her; for he was so wonderful cunning a Man, that he would act any
Part, as well as any Comedian.