[on Thomas Seymour's Death:] This

Men Fight Wars. Women Win Them.

When I Was Fair And Young, And Favor Graced Me, Of Many Was I Sought, Their Mistress For To Be; But I Did Scorn Them All, And Answered Them Therefore, "go, Go, Go Seek Some Otherwhere! Importune Me No More!

I Pluck Up The Good Lissome Herbs Of Sentences By Pruning, Eat Them By Reading, Digest Them By Musing, And Lay Them Up At Length In The High Seat Of Memory.

Prosperity Provideth, But Adversity Proveth Friends.

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