"Like enough," said Mrs. Poyser, "for the men are mostly so slow, their thoughts overrun ’em, an’ they can only catch ’em by the tail.  I can count a stocking-top while a man’s getting’s tongue ready an’ when he outs wi’ his speech at last, there’s little broth to be made on’t.  It’s your dead chicks take the longest hatchin’.  Howiver, I’m not denyin’ the women are foolish:  God Almighty made ’em to match the men.  ~George Eliot, "The Harvest Supper," Adam Bede