Virtue's Office Never Breaks Men's Troth.

Thou Art All The Comfort, The Gods Will Diet Me With.

Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

What Thing, In Honor, Had My Father Lost, That Need To Be Revived And Breathed In Me?

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine.