Comus.

    O Woman, in thy native innocence, rely
    On what thou hast of virtue:  summon all,
    For God toward thee hath done His part, do thine.

      Paradise Lost, Book 9.

    What higher in her society thou find’st
    Attractive, human, rational, love still;
    In loving thou dost well, in passion not
    Wherein true love consists not.

      Paradise Lost, Book 8.

    The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
    Safest and seemliest by her husband stays,
    Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.

      Paradise Lost, Book 9.

    Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat
    Build in her loveliest, and create an awe
    About her, as a guard angelic placed.

      Paradise Lost, Book 8.

                Those graceful acts,
    Those thousand decencies that daily flow
    From all her words and actions mix’d with love
    And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign’d
    Union of mind, or in us both one soul;
    Harmony to behold in wedded pair
    More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear.

Paradise Lost, Book 8.

Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, steadfast, and demure.
* * * * *
With even step and musing gait;
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy wrapt soul sitting in thine eyes.

Il Penseroso.

        Innocence and virgin modesty

Her virtue, and the conscience of her worth,
That would be woo’d, and not unsought be won
Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired
The more desirable.

Paradise Lost, Book 8.

Lady, thy care is fix’d, and zealously attends
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light. 
And hope that reaps not shame.

      Sonnet.

                    A creature ...
    ...  So lovely fair,
    That what seem’d fair in all the world seem’d now
    Mean, or in her summ’d up, in her contain’d.

      Paradise Lost, Book 8.

    All things from her air inspired
    The spirit of love and amorous delight.

      Paradise Lost, Book 8.

    It is for homely features to keep home—­
    They had their name thence:  coarse complexions
    And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply
    The sampler and to tease the housewife’s wool.

      Comus.

    With dispatchful looks in haste
    She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent. 
    What choice to choose for delicacy best,
    What order, so contrived, as not to mix
    Tastes, not well join’d, inelegant, but bring
    Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change.

      Paradise Lost, Book 5.