I saw one die, who, at his last gasp, complained of nothing so much as that destiny was about to cut the thread of a chronicle he was then compiling, when he was gone no farther than the fifteenth or sixteenth of our kings:
Non esse cupidum pecunia est, non esse emacem vectigal est Ez naiz ez ondasunen gal beldurrez ez eta haien berretzeko gutizian.