C.
Curtesie is cumbersom to them that kens it not.
Come it aire, come it late, in May comes the Cow-quake.
Court to the Town, and whore to the window.
Calk is na sheares.
Clap a carle on the culs, and he will shit in your louf.
Cadgers speaks of lead saddles.
Changing of works is lighting of hearts.
Charge your friend ere you need.