Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.

As I love the name of honour more than I fear death.

I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her. If she be a traitor, Why, so am I. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together, And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.

Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.

Though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm.

Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?

Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!