You Must Confine Yourself Within The Modest

While We Lie Tumbling In The Hay.

Fear And Niceness, The Handmaids Of All Women, Or More Truly, Woman Its Pretty Self.

Thus Conscience Does Make Cowards Of Us All; And Thus The Native Hue Of Resolution Is Slicked O'er With The Pale Cast Of Thought

Men Have Marble, Women Waxen, Minds.

I Can Get No Remedy Against This Consumption Of The Purse: Borrowing Only Lingers And Lingers It Out, But The Disease Is Incurable.