You Told A Lie, An Odious Damned

No Doubt They Rose Up Early To Observe The Rite Of May; And, Hearing Our Intent, Came Here In Grace Of Our Solemnity.

O The World Is But A Word; Were It All Yours To Give It In A Breath, How Quickly Were It Gone!

Misery Makes Sport To Mock Itself.

Look Like The Innocent Flower, But Be The Serpent Under It.

Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every Third Thought Shall Be My Grave.