I hate a wife to whom I go to school, Who climbs the grammar-tree, distinctly knows Where noun, and verb, and participle grows; Corrects her country-neighbour; and, a-bed, For breaking Priscian's breaks her husband's head.[125] The gaudy gossip, when she's set agog, In jewels drest, and at each ear a bob, Goes flaunting out, and, in her trim of pride, Thinks all she says or does is justified. When poor, she's scarce a tolerable evil; But rich, and fine, a wife's a very devil. She duly, once a month, renews her face; Meantime, it lies in daub, and hid in grease. Those are the husband's nights; she craves her due, He takes fat kisses, and is stuck in glue. But to the loved adulterer when she steers, Fresh from the bath, in brightness she appears: For him the rich Arabia sweats her gum, } And precious oils from distant Indies come, } How haggardly soe'er she looks at home. } The eclipse then vanishes, and all her face Is opened, and restored to every grace; The crust removed, her cheeks, as smooth as silk, Are polished with a wash of asses milk; And should she to the farthest north be sent, A train of these[126] attend her banishment. But hadst thou seen her plaistered up before, 'Twas so unlike a face, it seemed a sore. 'Tis worth our while, to know what all the day They do, and how they pass their time away; For, if o'er-night the husband has been slack, } Or counterfeited sleep, and turned his back, } Next day, be sure, the servants go to wrack. } The chamber-maid and dresser are called whores, The page is stript, and beaten out of doors; The whole house suffers for the master's crime, And he himself is warned to wake another time. She hires tormentors by the year; she treats Her visitors, and talks, but still she beats; Beats while she paints her face, surveys her gown, Casts up the day's account, and still beats on: Tired out, at length, with an outrageous tone, She bids them in the devil's name be gone. Compared with such a proud, insulting dame, Sicilian tyrants[127] may renounce their name. For, if she hastes abroad to take the air, Or goes to Isis' church, (the bawdy house of prayer,) She hurries all her handmaids to the task; Her head, alone, will twenty dressers ask. Psecas, the chief, with breast and shoulders bare, Trembling, considers every sacred hair; If any straggler from his rank be found, A pinch must for the mortal sin compound. Psecas is not in fault; but in the glass, The dame's offended at her own ill face. That maid is banished; and another girl, More dexterous, manages the comb and curl. The rest are summoned on a point so nice,