Much Suspected By Me, Nothing

I Pray To God That I Shall Not Live One Hour After I Have Thought Of Using Deception.

It Is Monstrous That The Feet Should Direct The Head.

I Do Not So Much Rejoice That God Hath Made Me To Be A Queen, As To Be A Queen Over So Thankful A People.

Monarchs Ought To Put To Death The Authors And Instigators Of War, As Their Sworn Enemies And As Dangers To Their States.

If Our Web Be Framed With Rotten Handles, When Our Loom Is Well Nigh Done, Our Work Is New To Begin. God Send The Weaver True Prentices Again, And Let Them Be Denizens.