Yawning and staring sadly in the fire
Till celibacy becomes a weary life
But that the dread of something after wedlock
(That undiscovered state from whose strong chains
No captive can get free) puzzles the will
And makes us rather choose those ills we have
Than fly to others which a wife may bring.
Thus caution doth make Bachelors of us all
And thus our natural taste for matrimony
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought