"There's nothing so fatal as Woman"
di Thomas d'Urfey (1653-1723)

There's nothing so fatal as Woman,
To hurry a Man to his Grave;
You may think, you may plot,
You may sigh like a Sot:
She uses you more like a Slave.
But a Bottle, altho' it be common,
The Cheats of the Fair will undo,
It will drive from your Head
The Delights of the Bed;
He that's drunk is not able to wooe.