there is in those conjugal dialogues which have always been so popular an ingredient in modern farce. If humour of this kind cannot he said to he in the very best taste, it may at least claim a high classical antiquity.
Laches. Good heavens! what a strange race these women are!
They're all in a conspiracy! all just alike,
In what they will and what they won't; not one of 'em
But sings to the same note; with one consent
Each stepmother detests her daughter-in-law,
Each wife is bound to contradict her husband;
There must be some school where they all learn wickedness;
And my own wife must be head-mistress in it.
Sostrata. Poor me, poor me! I don't know what I
am charged with!
La. (sneering). Oh! you don't, don't you?
Sos. On my life, dear Laches,
No—as I hope to live and die with you!
La. The gods deliver me from such a prospect!
Sos. (sobbing). Well, when I'm gone, you'll know how
cruel you've been.
La. Cruel, forsooth! what words are strong enough
For your base conduct, madam? You've disgraced
Me, and yourself, and all the family;
You've ruined your son's happiness—made enemies
Of our best friends, who gave their daughter to us.
'Tis you, and only you, have done it all.
Sos. I!
La. Yes, you, madam! What! am I a stone?
Have I no feelings, think you? Do you fancy
Because I am in the country, I don't know
How you all go on here while I am away?
Ay! better than I know what goes on there.
