What Is The City But The People?

The Painful Warrior Famous For Fight, After A Thousand Victories, Once Foil'd, Is From The Books Of Honor Razed Quite, And All The Rest Forgot For Which He Toil'd

Would I Were In An Alehouse In London.

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

I Have Sounded The Very Base-string Of Humility.

For Love, Thou Know'st, Is Full Of Jealousy