Let Witchcraft Join With Beauty, Lust With

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension, And The Poor Beetle, That We Tread Upon, In Corporal Sufferance Finds A Pang As Great As When A Giant Dies.

Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain.

Abandon All Remorse; On Horror's Head Horrors Accumulate.

We Will Have Rings And Things And Fine Array

The Hideous God Of War.