I have come, Sire, to complain of one of your subjects who has been so audacious as to kick me in the belly.

I was a queen, and you took away my crown; a wife, and you killed my husband; a mother, and you deprived me of my children. My blood alone remains: take it, but do not make me suffer long.

I am terrified of being bored.

And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies.

Farewell, my children, forever. I go to your Father.

No one understands my ills, nor the terror that fills my breast, who does not know the heart of a mother.

There is nothing new except what has been forgotten.