Part of my soul I seek thee, and claim thee my other half

There is no Christian duty that is not to be seasoned and set off with cheerishness, which in a thousand outward and intermitting crosses may yet be done well, as in this vale of tears.

Wisdom's self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.

Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.

Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.

Boast not of what thou would'st have done, but do.

It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.