_Festus_. P.J. BAILEY.
Let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart,
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,
Than women's are.
* * * * *
Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.
_Twelfth Night, Act ii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such a woman oweth to her husband.
_Taming of the Shrew, Act v. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.
And truant husband should return, and say.
"My dear, I was the first who came away."
_Don Juan, Canto I_. LORD BYRON.
With thee conversing I forget all time;
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
* * * * *
But neither breath of morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,
Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon,
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.
So loving to my mother.
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