And Oft, My Jealousy Shapes

One Woman Is Fair, Yet I Am Well; Another Is Wise, Yet I Am Well; Another Virtuous, Yet I Am Well; But Till All Graces Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace.

He Is Dead And Gone, Lady, He Is Dead And Gone; At His Head A Grass-green Turf, At His Heels A Stone.

When I Said I Would Die A Bachelor, I Did Not Think I Should Live Till I Were Married.

Dispute Not With Her: She Is Lunatic.

Sweet Recreation Barred, What Doth Ensue But Moody And Dull Melancholy, Kinsman To Grim And Comfortless Despair.