What's The News? None, My Lord, But

Let There Be Gall Enough In Thy Ink, Though Thou Write With A Goose-pen, No Matter.

Virtue Is Chok'd With Foul Ambition

God Mark Thee To His Grace! Thou Was The Prettiest Babe That E'er I Nursed. And Might I Live To See Thee Married Once, I Have My Wish.

Nothing Is So Common As The Wish To Be Remarkable.(attributed To)

My Long Sickness Of Health And Living Now Begins To Mend, And Nothing Brings Me All Things.