First, then, a woman will or won’t, depend on ’t; If she will do ’t, she will; and there ’s an end on ’t. But if she won’t, since safe and sound your… - Aaron Hill

You talk no more of that gay nation now, Where men adore their wives, and woman's power Draws reverence from a polished people's softness, Their husbands' equals, and their lovers' queens; Free without scandal; wise without restraint; Their virtue due to nature, not to fear.

Yours is the guilt of all, who, judging wrong,
Mistake tuned nonsense for the poet's song!
Provoking dulness!—what a soul has he
Who fancies rhyme, and measure, poetry!—
He thinks, profanely, that this generous art
Stops at the ear—with power to shake the heart.

Joys, which we do not know, we do not wish.