Yes, faith, it is my cousin's duty to make a curtsy, and say, "Father, as it please you;" but for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy, and say, "Father, as it pleases me." SHAKESPEARE, Much Ado about Nothing. He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain--he must speak truth. King Lear. God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another; you jig, you amble, you nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Hamlet. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? Am I contemn'd for pride and scorn so much? Much Ado about Nothing. ------------------------- Grave Jonas Kindred, Sybil Kindred's sire, Was six feet high, and look'd six inches higher; Erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow, Who knew the man could never cease to know: His faithful spouse, when Jonas was not by, Had a firm presence and a steady eye; But with her husband dropp'd her look and tone, And Jonas ruled unquestion'd and alone. He read, and oft would quote the sacred words, How pious husbands of their wives were lords; Sarah called Abraham Lord! and who could be, So Jonas thought, a greater man than he? Himself he view'd with undisguised respect, And never pardon'd freedom or neglect. They had one daughter, and this favourite child Had oft the father of his spleen beguiled; Soothed by attention from her early years, She gained all wishes by her smiles or tears; But Sybil then was in that playful time, When contradiction is not held a crime; When parents yield their children idle praise For faults corrected in their after days. Peace in the sober house of Jonas dwelt, Where each his duty and his station felt: Yet not that peace some favour'd mortals find, In equal views and harmony of mind; Not the soft peace that blesses those who love, Where all with one consent in union move; But it was that which one superior will Commands, by making all inferiors still; Who bids all murmurs, all objections, cease, And with imperious voice announces--Peace! They were, to wit, a remnant of that crew, Who, as their foes maintain, their Sovereign slew; An independent race, precise, correct, Who ever married in the kindred sect: No son or daughter of their order wed A friend to England's king who lost his head; Cromwell was still their Saint, and when they met, They mourn'd that Saints were not our rulers yet. Fix'd were their habits; they arose betimes, Then pray'd their hour, and sang their party-rhymes: Their meals were plenteous, regular and plain; The trade of Jonas brought him constant gain; Vender of hops and malt, of coals and corn - And, like his father, he was merchant born: Neat was their house; each table, chair, and stool, Stood in its place, or moving moved by rule; No lively print or picture graced the room;