Soul Of The Age! The Applause! Delight!

Follow A Shadow, It Still Flies You, Seem To Fly, It Will Pursue: So Court A Mistress, She Denies You; Let Her Alone, She Will Court You. Say Are Not Women Truly, Then, Styled But The Shadows Of Us Men?

Forbear, You Things That Stand Upon The Pinnacles Of State, To Boast Your Slippery Height! When You Do Fall, You Dash Yourselves In Pieces, Ne'er To Rise: And He That Lends You Pity, Is Not Wise.

Where It Concerns Himself, Who's Angry At A Slander, Makes It True.

[the Play] Is Like To Be A Very Conceited Scurvy One, In Plain English.

The Way To Rise Is To Obey And Please.