were much more sensible on this point: with them, a wife always knew
enough when the extent of her genius enabled her to distinguish a
doublet from a pair of breeches. She did not read, but she lived
honestly; her family was the subject of all her learned conversation,
and for hooks she had needles, thread, and a thimble, with which she
worked at her daughter's trousseau. Women, in our days, are far from
behaving thus: they must write and become authors. No science is too
deep for them. It is worse in my house than anywhere else; the deepest
secrets are understood, and everything is known except what should be
known. Everyone knows how go the moon and the polar star, Venus,
Saturn, and Mars, with which I have nothing to do. And in this vain
knowledge, which they go so far to fetch, they know nothing of the
soup of which I stand in need. My servants all wish to be learned, in
order to please you; and all alike occupy themselves with anything but
the work they have to do. Reasoning is the occupation of the whole
house, and reasoning banishes all reason. One burns my roast while
reading some story; another dreams of verses when I call for drink. In
short, they all follow your example, and although I have servants, I
am not served. One poor girl alone was left me, untouched by this
villainous fashion; and now, behold, she is sent away with a huge
clatter because she fails to speak Vaugelas. I tell you, sister, all
this offends me, for as I have already said, it is to you I am
speaking. I dislike to see all those Latin-mongers in my house, and
particularly Mr. Trissotin. It is he who has turned your heads with
his verses. All his talk is mere rubbish, and one is for ever trying
to find out what he has said after he has done speaking. For my part I
believe that he is rather cracked.

PHI. What coarseness, O heavens! both in thought and language.