I Would Fain Die A Dry Death.

For There's No Motion That Tends To Vice In Man, But I Affirm It Is The Woman's Part.

I Dare Do All That May Become A Man; Who Dares Do More, Is None

My Charity Is Outrage, Life My Shame; And In That Shame Still Live My Sorrow's Rage!

What A Deformed Thief This Fashion Is.

I Wish My Horse Had The Speed Of Your Tongue.