We Are Time's Subjects, And Time Bids

His Life Was Gentle; And The Elements So Mixed In Him, That Nature Might Stand Up And Say To All The World, This Was A Man!

I Hold It Cowardice To Rest Mistrustful Where A Noble Heart Hath Pawned An Open Hand In Sign Of Love.

Thy Husband Is Thy Lord, Thy Life, Thy Keeper, Thy Head, Thy Sovereign; One That Cares For Thee, And For Thy Maintenance Commits His Body To Painful Labour Both By Sea And Land, To Watch The Night In Storms, The Day In Cold, Whilst Thou Liest Warm At Home, Secure And Safe; And Craves No Other Tribute At Thy Hands But Love, Fair Looks And True Obedience; Too Little Payment For So Great A Debt.

In Limited Professions There's Boundless Theft.

What Our Contempts Do Often Hurl From Us, We Wish It Ours Again.