I Do Believe A Young Lady Can't

Keep Guard Over Your Eyes And Ears As The Inlets Of Your Heart, And Over Your Lips As The Outlets, Lest They Betray You In A Moment Of Unwariness.

Because I Imagine There Must Be Only A Very, Very Few Men In The World, That I Should Like To Marry; And Of Those Few, It Is Ten To One I May Never Be Acquainted With One; Or If I Should, It Is Twenty To One He May Not Happen To Be Single, Or To Take A Fancy To Me.

You Need Not Fear Me, For I Not Only Should Think It Wrong To Marry A Man That Was Deficient In Sense Or In Principle, But I Should Never Be Tempted To Do It; For I Could Not Like Him, If He Were Ever So Handsome, And Ever So Charming, In Other Respects; I Should Hate Him—despise Him—pity Him—anything But Love Him. My Affections Not Only Ought To Be Founded On Approbation, But They Will And Must Be So: For, Without Approving, I Cannot Love. It Is Needless To Say, I Ought To Be Able To Respect And Honour The Man I Marry, As Well As Love Him, For I Cannot Love Him Without.

You Will Form A Very Inadequate Estimate Of A Man's Character, If You Judge By What A Fond Sister Says Of Him. The Worst Of Them Generally Know How To Hide Their Misdeeds From Their Sisters' Eyes, And Their Mother's, Too.

If We Can Only Speak To Slander Our Betters, Let Us Hold Our Tongues.