I'm Armed With More Than Complete Steel,

Blood Is The God Of War's Rich Livery.

That Perfect Bliss And Sole Felicity, The Sweet Fruition Of An Earthly Crown.

Cut Is The Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight, And Burned Is Apollo's Laurel Bough, That Sometime Grew Within This Learned Man. Faustus Is Gone.

I Count Religion But A Childish Toy, And Hold There Is No Sin But Ignorance.

The Stars Move Still, Time Runs, The Clock Will Strike