Women Being The Weaker Vessels, Are Ever

O Braggart Vile And Damned Furious Wight!

There Is None Of My Uncle's Marks Upon You; He Taught Me How To Know A Man In Love; In Which Cage Of Rushes I Am Sure You Are Not Prisoner.

Zounds! Sir, You Are One Of Those That Will Not Serve God If The Devil Bid You.

For I Am Proverbed With A Grandsire Phrase.

Haply For I Am Black, And Have Not Those Soft Parts Of Conversation That Chamberers Have; Or For I Am Declined Into The Vale Of Years—yet That’s Not Much— She’s Gone. I Am Abused, And My Relief Must Be To Loathe Her. O Curse Of Marriage, That We Can Call These Delicate Creatures Ours And Not Their Appetites! I Had Rather Be A Toad And Live Upon The Vapor Of A Dungeon Than Keep A Corner In The Thing I Love For Others’ Uses. Yet ’tis The Plague Of Great Ones; Prerogatived Are They Less Than The Base. ’tis Destiny Unshunnable, Like Death.