MAROTTE: Did you call, sir?
GORGIBUS: Where are your mistresses?
MAROTTE: In their room.
GORGIBUS: What are they doing there?
MAROTTE: Making lip salve.
GORGIBUS: There is no end of their salves. Bid them come down. [Alone.] These hussies with their salves have, I think, a mind to ruin me. Everywhere in the house I see nothing but whites of eggs, lac virginal, and a thousand other fooleries I am not acquainted with. Since we have been here they have employed the lard of a dozen hogs at least, and four servants might live every day on the sheep's trotters they use.