HOBSON. A woman's foolishness begins where man's leaves off.
JIM. They want a firm hand, Henry.
HOBSON. I've lifted up my voice and roared at them.
JIM. Beware of roaring at women, Henry. Roaring is mainly hollow
sound. It's like trying to defeat an army with banging drums
instead of cold steel. And it's steel in a man's character that
subdues the women.
HOBSON. I've tried all ways, and I'm fair moithered. I dunno what
to do. (_Scratches his head_.)
JIM. Then you quit roaring at 'em and get 'em wed.
(_Rises_.)
HOBSON. I've thought of that. Trouble is to find the men.
JIM. Men's common enough. Are you looking for angels in breeches?
HOBSON. I'd like my daughters to wed temperance young men, Jim.
JIM. You keep your ambitions within reasonable limits, Henry.
You've three daughters to find husbands for.
HOBSON. Two, Jim, two.
JIM. Two?
HOBSON. Vickey and Alice are mostly window dressing in the shop.
But Maggie's too useful to part with. And she's a bit on the ripe
side for marrying, is our Maggie.
JIM. I've seen 'em do it at double her age. Still, leaving her
out, you've two.
HOBSON. One'll do for a start, Jim. (_Crosses to_ R.) It's a
thing I've noticed about wenches. Get one wedding in a family and
it goes through the lot like measles.
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