Portray without its terrors, painting lies
And representments of fallacious liberty;—
You know not what it is to leave the roof that shelters you.
Marg. I have thought on every possible event,
The dangers and discouragements you speak of,
Even till my woman's heart hath ceased to fear them,
And cowardice grows enamor'd of rare accidents;
Nor am I so unfurnish'd, as you think,
Of practicable schemes.
Sand. Now God forbid; think twice of this, dear lady.