Good God, The Souls Of

I Came, Saw, And Overcame.

Things Base And Vile, Holding No Quantity, Love Can Transpose To Form And Dignity

Those That Much Covet Are With Gain So Fond, For What They Have Not, That Which They Possess They Scatter And Unloose It From Their Bond, And So, By Hoping More, They Have But Less; Or, Gaining More, The Profit Of Excess Is But To Surfeit, And Such Griefs Sustain, That They Prove Bankrupt In This Poor-rich Gain.

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

She Lov'd Me For The Dangers I Had Pass'd, And I Lov'd Her That She Did Pity Them