O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!

Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lender's books, and defy the foul fiend.

For many men that stumble at the threshold are well foretold that danger lurks within.

I will praise any man that will praise me.

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.

Yet but three come one more. Two of both kinds make up four. Ere she comes curst and sad. Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad.

I'll speak in a monstrous little voice.