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!

When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes.

The force of his own merit makes his way-a gift that heaven gives for him.

For I can raise no money by vile means.

Past all shame, so past all truth.

I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely.

Come not between the dragon and his wrath.