Thank Me No Thankings, Nor Proud Me

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

I Love You With So Much Of My Heart That None Is Left To Protest.

Those That Much Covet Are With Gain So Fond, For What They Have Not, That Which They Possess They Scatter And Unloose It From Their Bond, And So, By Hoping More, They Have But Less; Or, Gaining More, The Profit Of Excess Is But To Surfeit, And Such Griefs Sustain, That They Prove Bankrupt In This Poor-rich Gain.

They Lie Deadly That Tell You Have Good Faces.

A Nun Of Winter's Sisterhood Kisses Not More Religiously; The Very Ice Of Chastity Is In Them.