There is hardly a side of her daily life upon which it does not touch, and we may now with advantage look more closely upon her, and see in turn the perfect lady, whose deportment and manners do credit to her breeding; the perfect wife, whose submission to her husband is only equalled by her skill in ministering to his ease; the perfect mistress, whose servants love her and run her house like clockwork; and the perfect housewife, the Mrs Beeton of the fifteenth century.
The Menagier's views on deportment are incongruously sandwiched into his section on spiritual duties, under the general headings of getting up in the morning and going to church.

His ideas on the subject of clothes are very clearly defined: a sweet disorder in the dress was in no way to his taste: Know, dear sister, that if you wish to follow my advice you will have great care and regard for what you and I can afford to do, according to our estate.

Have a care that you be honestly clad, without new devices and without too much or too little frippery.

And before you leave your chamber and house, take care first that the collar of your shift, and of your _blanchet, cotte_ and _surcotte_, do not hang out one over the other, as happens with certain drunken, foolish or witless women, who have no care for their honour, nor for the honesty of their estate or of their husbands, and who walk with roving eyes and head horribly reared up like a lion (_la teste espoventablement levee comme un lyon!_), their hair straggling out of their wimples, and the collars of their shifts and _cottes_ crumpled the one upon the other, and who walk mannishly and bear themselves uncouthly before folk without shame.

And if one speaks to them about it, they excuse themselves on the ground of their industry and humility, saying that they are so diligent, hardworking, and humble that they care not for themselves.