I think a bad husband is far worse than no husband.

For I, hearing my Lord's estate amongst many more estates was to be sold, and that the wives of the owners should have an allowance therefrom, it gave me hopes I should receive a benefit thereby.

Marriage is the grave or tomb of wit.

Prosperity is like perfume, it often makes the head ache.

As for our garments, my Mother did not only delight to see us neat and cleanly, fine and gay, but rich and costly: maintaining us to the heighth of her estate, but not beyond it.

The truth is, we [women] live like bats, or owls, labor like beasts, and die like worms.

Indeed I had not much wit, yet I was not an idiot - my wit was according to my years.