In argument with men a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause.
What is dark within me, illumine.
What am I pondering, you ask? So help me God, immortality.
Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
To live a life half dead, a living death.
By labor and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this life), joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die.