I Hate The Murderer, Love Him Murdered.

The Even Mead, That Erst Brought Sweetly Forth The Freckled Cowslip, Burnet, And Green Clover, Wanting The Scythe, All Uncorrected, Rank, Conceives By Idleness, And Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burrs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.

And Do As Adversaries Do In Law, Strive Mightily, But Eat And Drink As Friends.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.

Now The Time Is Come, That France Must Veil Her Lofty-plumed Crest, And Let Her Head Fall Into England's Lap.

[marriage Is] A World-without-end Bargain.