I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.

How hard it is for women to keep counsel!

By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love

We do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.

Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.