Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly; A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud; A brittle glass that's broken presently: A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, Lost, vaded, broken, dead within the hour.
Loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; that one false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful; and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.
Anger is brittle fire that consumes and breaks whatever it engulfs.