I may add that absurd practice of cutting turf without any regularity; whereby great quantities of restorable land are made utterly desperate, many thousands of cattle destroyed, the turf more difficult to come at and carry home, and less fit for burning; the air made unwholesome by stagnating pools and marshes; and the very sight of such places offensive to those who ride by.

May a thousand chats from Belgium crawl under their fingers as they write.

On the pillow the fair head otherwise so aquilinely reminiscent of old Mendes on his deathbed grew clearer,

To proue him Tyrant, this reason may suffice, That Henry liueth still.