It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.
To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts into one.
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.