Adieu, Adieu, Adieu! Remember Me.

I Durst Not Laugh For Fear Of Opening My Lips And Receiving The Bad Air.

Hanging And Wiving Goes By Destiny.

His Jest Will Savour But Of Shallow Wit, When Thousands Weep, More Than Did Laugh At It.

France Is A Dog-hole, And It No More Merits The Tread Of A Man's Foot.

For Who So Firm That Cannot Be Seduced?