We must, therefore, be here as strangers and pilgrims, that we may plainly declare that we seek a city above.

If ever wife was happy in a man, compare with me, ye women if you can.

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue who says my hand a needle better fits.

Sweet words are like honey, a little may refresh, but too much gluts the stomach.

That when we live no more, We may live ever

But man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.

I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold or all the riches that the East doth hold.