CAV. It was my parents' caution, I remember; But 'twas my sad fate not t' observe[126] that lesson-- Never to fix my fancy on a person Who had no sage in's pate, lest progeny of fools Should make my race unhappy: this has made My thoughts mere strangers to his weak embraces; Nor shall I e'er affect him. FLO. Madam, no law Would in the Spartan state enjoin a lady So nobly accomplished to confine Her fancy to such fury. PAL. This objection Admits no long debate. SAL. Her rich deserts, Adorn'd with such choice native faculties, And grac'd with art to make them more complete, In humane reason should exempt her youth From such a servile yoke. MOR. In ancient times, When wisdom guarded senates, a decree, Confirmed by public vote, enacted was, That none should marry till he had observ'd Domestic discipline; and first to bear With a composed garb th' indignities Of a Xantippe, if his fortune were To cope with such a fury: and to calm Her passion with his patience. Now, grave colleagues, What comfort might this injur'd lady drain, In these punctilios which import her state, From this insensate sot? TIL. Exchange his bed, And sue his patent for the _Fatuano_; And, to display him to his visitants In clearer colours, let this motto be Engraven on those walls, deep-ach'd with time, "Defective in his head-piece, here he lies, Object of scorn to all surveying eyes." 2D BOY. So, poor scatterbrain, he has got his judgment already. [_Aside._ CAR. Praxiteles could ne'er portray him better, Nor lodge his sconce more fitly. You may, madam, Conceive how sensibly we feel your wounds, And with what promptness we shall expedite Your long-expected cure. PAL. Madam Julippe, You come next in rank; declare your griefs, And if our judgments hold them meriting Our just relief, we have compassionate hearts And powerful hands to vindicate your wrongs To th' utmost scruple. JUL. If they weigh not heavy, Let me incur your censure. Patriots-- For I appeal to your judicious bosoms, Where serious justice has a residence Mix'd with a pious pity--I shall unravel The clue of my misfortunes in small threads, Thin-spun as is the subtle gossamer.[127] Deep wounds, like griefs, require contracted lines; Few words, long sighs: accents that want express. First give me leave one beamling to bestow On my obscur'd, once glorious, family. ALL. Madam, proceed; Fame made it eminent. JUL. But now contemptive--by marrying one Who bears the shape of man, and that is all: A base, white-liver'd coward, whose regard To his lost honour stamps him with that brand, That hateful stigma, which humanity Scorns as the basest complice. PAL. Style it, madam.