I Am One, My Liege, Whom The

She Is Your Treasure, She Must Have A Husband; I Must Dance Bare-foot On Her Wedding Day, And, For Your Love To Her, Lead Apes In Hell.

O Horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue Nor Heart Cannot Conceive Nor Name Thee!

Now Let It Work. Mischief, Thou Art Afoot. Take Thou What Course Thou Wilt.

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks

Steed Threatens Steed, In High And Boastful Neighs Piercing The Night's Dull Ear; And From The Tents The Armorers Accomplishing The Knights, With Busy Hammers Closing Rivets Up, Give Dreadful Note Of Preparation.