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I by myself am nought; yea, oftentimes
So look I upon all our womenkind,
That we are nothing. Young, we lead a life
Of all most joyous, in our father's house,
For want of knowledge is our kindly nurse;
But when we come to marriageable years,
Then are we pushed and bartered for away
From household gods and from our parents dear--
Some unto alien husbands, some to men
Of stronger race, and some to homes full strange,
Or full of turmoil: and when one night bind us,
We needs must bear, and think of it as right.