The gallant decent man saves and spares the blushes and emotional pains of the compromised hapless lady coerced into skulduggeries and murkiness manipulated, intimidated, unable to protest she will do as bided for murky contrived machinations is their game what can she do but play along with things
Whilst the wanton selfish spineless cad will seek companionship aside him afraid and guised in cowardice in the arena a gallant decent and brave real man reads the play and removes all collateral damages what gains the brave to see another suffer the fight is not yours he says, go find your peace
the lady sees the courage and decency of a real brave the muted cordial accord speaks volume the unspoken decency of a class act for had it been a brazen compatriot of anodyne fervour would not she say, let me go again to lure and daze but so, was the edict, I have done what I was made to do let me be
while senseless idiots huff and puff in piffles and tattles and dopes and halfwits galvanizes in irrationalities where lesser beings lose their heads and hearts and sensibilities becomes evasive illusions with grievous envies ingrained in the mindless Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread.....
Name a new Play, and he's the Poet's Friend, Nay show'd his Faults—but when wou'd Poets mend? No Place so Sacred from such Fops is barr'd, Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Church-yard: Nay, fly to Altars; there they'll talk you dead; For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread.