A quiet woman is like a still wind, which neither chills the body nor
blows dust in the face. Her patience is a virtue that wins the heart of
love, and her wisdom makes her will well worthy regard. She fears God
and flieth sin, showeth kindness and loveth peace. Her tongue is tied to
discretion, and her heart is the harbour of goodness. She is a comfort
of calamity and in prosperity a companion, a physician in sickness and a
musician in help. Her ways are the walk toward heaven, and her guide is
the grace of the Almighty. She is her husband's down-bed, where his
heart lies at rest, and her children's glass in the notes of her grace;
her servants' honour in the keeping of her house, and her neighbours'
example in the notes of a good nature. She scorns fortune and loves
virtue, and out of thrift gathereth charity. She is a turtle in her
love, a lamb in her meekness, a saint in her heart, and an angel in her
soul. In sum, she is a jewel unprizeable and a joy unspeakable, a
comfort in nature incomparable, and a wife in the world unmatchable.