Ge. You tell us of a melancholy Entertainment indeed.

Lev. That will appear.  If you don’t confess that it has been more entertaining than your fabulous one, I’ll be content to be amerc’d a Supper; there is nothing more diverting than to treat of Trifles in a serious Manner.

The LYING-IN WOMAN.

The ARGUMENT.

A Lying-in Woman had rather have a Boy than a Girl.  Custom is a grievous Tyrant.  A Woman argues that she is as good as her Husband.  The Dignity of ’em both are compared.  The Tongue is a Woman’s best Weapon.  The Mother herself ought to be the Nurse.  She is not the Mother that bears the Child, but she that nurses it.  The very Beasts themselves suckle their own Young.  The Nurse’s Milk corrupts oftentimes both the Genius and natural Constitution of the Infant.  The Souls of some Persons inhabit Bodies ill organized. Cato judges it the principal Part of Felicity, to dwell happily.  She is scarce half a Mother that refuses to bring up what she has brought forth.  A Mother is so called from [Greek:  me terein].  And in short, besides the Knowledge of a great many Things in Nature, here are many that occur in Morality.

EUTRAPELUS, FABULLA.

Eu. Honest Fabulla, I am glad to see you; I wish you well.

Fa. I wish you well heartily, Eutrapelus.  But what’s the Matter more than ordinary, that you that come so seldom to see me, are come now?  None of our Family has seen you this three Years.

Eu. I’ll tell you, as I chanced to go by the Door, I saw the Knocker (called a Crow) tied up in a white Cloth, I wondered what was the Matter.

Fa. What! are you such a Stranger in this Country, as not to know that that’s a Token of a lying-in Woman in that House?

Eu. Why, pray is it not a strange Sight to see a white Crow?  But without jesting, I did know very well what was the Matter; but I could not dream, that you that are scarce sixteen, should learn so early the difficult Art of getting Children, which some can scarce attain before they are thirty.

Fa. As you are Eutrapelus by Name, so you are by Nature.

Eu. And so are you too.  For Fabulla never wants a Fable.  And while I was in a Quandary, Polygamus came by just in the Nick of Time.

Fa. What he that lately buried his tenth Wife?

Eu. The very same, but I believe you don’t know that he goes a courting as hotly as if he had lived all his Days a Batchelor.  I ask’d him what was the Matter; he told me that in this House the Body of a Woman had been dissever’d.  For what great Crime, says I? says he, If what is commonly reported be true, the Mistress of this House attempted to circumcise her Husband, and with that he went away laughing.

Fa. He’s a mere Wag.