Women may fall when there's no strength in men.

O, let me kiss that hand! KING LEAR: Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.

He that is thy friend indeed, he will help you in your need.

To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.

Tam: What begg’st thou then? fond woman, let me go. Lav: ’Tis present death I beg; and one thing more That womanhood denies my tongue to tell. O! keep me from their worse than killing lust, And tumble me into some loathsome pit, Where never man’s eye may behold my body: Do this, and be a charitable murderer. Tam: So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee: No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. Dem: Away! for thou hast stay’d us here too long. Lav: No grace! no womanhood! Ah, beastly creature, The blot and enemy to our general name. Confusion fall—

The sense of death is most in apprehension, And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.