Find earth where grows no weed, and you may find a heart wherein no error grows.

Save the love we pay to heaven, there is none purer, holier, than that a virtuous woman feels for him she would cleave through life to. Sisters part from sisters, brothers from brothers, children from their parents, but such woman from the husband of her choice, never!

The herald, earth-accredited, of heaven,--which when men hear, they think upon heaven's king, and run the items over of the account to which he is sure to call them.

Women do act their part when they do make their ordered houses know them.

Wedlock joins nothing, if it joins not hearts.

A sound so fine, there 's nothing lives 'Twixt it and silence.