Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are.
To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings/Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun/For my mean Pen are too superior things.
Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, I here, though there, yet both but one.
Sweet words are like honey, a little may refresh, but too much gluts the stomach.
If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
That when we live no more, We may live ever