ose times be allowed as
something; the name of his lordship, _Shrewsbury_, would have afforded a
consolatory _pun_!

The entertaining Marville says that the generality of ladies married to
literary men are so vain of the abilities and merit of their husbands,
that they are frequently insufferable.

The wife of Barclay, author of "The Argenis," considered herself as the
wife of a demigod. This appeared glaringly after his death; for Cardinal
Barberini having erected a monument to the memory of his tutor, next to
the tomb of Barclay, Mrs. Barclay was so irritated at this that she
demolished his monument, brought home his bust, and declared that the
ashes of so great a genius as her husband should never be placed beside
a pedagogue.

Salmasius's wife was a termagant; Christina said she admired his
patience more than his erudition. Mrs. Salmasius indeed considered
herself as the queen of science, because her husband was acknowledged as
sovereign among the critics. She boasted that she had for her husband
the most learned of all the nobles, and the most noble of all the
learned. Our good lady always joined the learned conferences which he
held in his study. She spoke loud, and decided with a tone of majesty.
Salmasius was mild in conversation, but the reverse in his writings, for
our proud Xantippe considered him as acting beneath himself if he did
not magisterially call every one names!

The wife of Rohault, when her husband gave lectures on the philosophy of
Descartes, used to seat herself on these days at the door, and refused
admittance to every one shabbily dressed, or who did not discover a
genteel air. So convinced was she that, to be worthy of hearing the
lectures of her husband, it was proper to appear fashionable. In vain
our good lecturer exhausted himself in telling her, that fortune does
not always give fine clothes to philosophers.

The ladies of Albert Durer and Berghem were both shrews. The wife of
Durer compelled that great genius to the hourly drudgery of his
profession, merely to gratify her own sordid passion: in despair, Albert
ran away from his Tisiphone; she wheedled him back, and not long
afterwards this great artist fell a victim to her furious
disposition.[95] Berghem's wife would never allow that excellent artist
to quit his occupations; and she contrived an odd expedient to detect
his indolence. The artist worked in a room above her; ever and anon she
roused him by thumping a long stick agai