“Where sits our sulky, sullen dame, Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it…”

“When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her…”

“Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.”

“Oh woman, woman! when to ill thy mind Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend.”

“Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.”

“Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that…”