A Nymph and a Swain to Apollo once pray’d,
The Swain had been jilted, the Nymph been betray’d:
Their Intent was to try if his Oracle knew
E’er a Nymph that was Chaste, or a Swain that was true.

Apollo was mute, and had like t’have been pos’d,
But sagely at length he this Secret disclos’d:
He alone won’t betray in whom none will Confide:
And the Nymph may be Chaste that has never been try’d.

O see me no more,— for thou wert born amongst Rocks, suckl’d by Whales, cradled in a Tempest, and whistled to by the Winds; and thou art come forth with Fins and Scales, and three Rows of Teeth, a most outragious Fish of Prey.

Valentine: …I lov’d a Woman, and lov’d her so long, that I found out a strange thing: I found out what a Woman was good for.
Tattle: Ay, prithee, what’s that?
Valentine: Why, to keep a Secret.
Tattle: O Lord!
Valentine: O exceeding good to keep a Secret: For tho’ she should tell, yet she is not to be believ’d.

Besides, you are a Woman, you must never speak what you think: Your Words must contradict your Thoughts; but your Actions must contradict your Words.

Well, if he be but as great a Sea-Beast, as she is a Land-Monster, we shall have a most amphibious Breed —

A loaf of bread and a clean collar; what does man want more?

Fondlewife: Come, Sir, who are you, in the first place? And what are you?
Bellmour: A Whore-master.
Fondlewife: Very Concise.

Words come later. It is the scent that first speaks of love.