1    Is there no way for men to be but women
2    Must be half-workers? We are all bastards;
3    And that most venerable man which I
4    Did call my father, was I know not where
5    When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools
6    Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd
7    The Dian of that time so doth my wife
8    The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!
9    Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd
10   And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with
11   A pudency so rosy the sweet view on't
12   Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her
13   As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils!
14   This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,--wast not?--
15   Or less,--at first?--perchance he spoke not, but,
16   Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,
17   Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition
18   But what he look'd for should oppose and she
19   Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
20   The woman's part in me! For there's no motion
21   That tends to vice in man, but I affirm
22   It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it,
23   The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
24   Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
25   Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
26   Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
27   All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows,
28   Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;
29   For even to vice
30   They are not constant but are changing still
31   One vice, but of a minute old, for one
32   Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,
33   Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skill
34   In a true hate, to pray they have their will:
35   The very devils cannot plague them better.