Dread not mankind, do them no reverence,
For though thy husband armed be in mail,
The arrows of thy crabbed eloquence
Shall pierce his armour and his breast impale;
In jealousy I charge that thou him bind,
And thou shalt make him couch as doth a quail.

If thou be fair, go forth where throngs be dense
To show thy duds and face without a veil;
If thou be foul, be lavish of expense;
To find thee lovers follow aye the trail;
Be aye of cheer as light as leaf i' the wind,
And let him weep and wring his hands and wail!