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Rh

Your conduct, madam, makes me common talk.

I knew my son's wife hated you—yes, long ago;

No wonder—'twould be a wonder if she didn't.

But that for your sake she had taken a hatred

To the whole family,—this I did not know.

Had I only known it, I'd have packed you off,

And made her stay—I would indeed, my lady!

Look how ungrateful, too, is this behaviour;

All to please you, I take a place in the country;

I work like a horse there—more than at my years

I ought to do—to keep you here in idleness,

Spending my money; 'twas the very least

You might have done, to keep a quiet house.

Sos. 'Twas not my fault, indeed, indeed, dear Laches!

La. I say it was your fault, and no one else's;

You'd nought to do but make things pleasant here;

I took all other burdens off your hands.

Shame! an old woman like you to go and quarrel

With a poor girl!—You'll tell me now, 'twas her fault?

Sos. No, no! dear Laches, I have never said so.

La. Well, I am glad, for my son's sake, you've the grace

To confess that. You don't much harm yourself

By the confession in your precious character

A fault or two the more don't make much odds.

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You mothers never rest until your sons

Get them a wife; and then your whole delight

Is to make mischief between wife and husband.

Some of the scenes in this play are the most dramatic of any which have come down to us from the author's hands. The grief of the young husband when, on his return from a voyage on business, he finds that his wife has left his father's roof and gone home to her own parents, and when she refuses him an