I wish my Sun may never set, but burn.
If ever wife was happy in a man, compare with me, ye women if you can.
Some laborers have hard hands, and old sinners have brawny consciences.
The world no longer lets me love, My hope and treasure are above.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold or all the riches that the East doth hold.
Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are.