Love, as a motive of action for a woman, she considered the female's lunacy and suicide.

Men are born subject to it, happily, and thus the balance between the lordly half of creation and the frail is rectified.

We women dress, and smile, sigh, if you like, to excite the malady.

But if we are the fools to share it, we lose our chance; instead of the queens, we are the slaves, and instead of a life of pleasure, we pass from fever to fever at a tyrant's caprice: he does rightly in despising us.

Ay, and many a worthy woman thinks the same.