O, Full Of Scorpions Is My Mind!

Ay, Much Is The Force Of Heaven-bred Poesy.

Poise The Cause In Justice's Equal Scales, Whose Beam Stands Sure, Whose Rightful Cause Prevails.

Avaunt, You Cullions!

This Royal Throne Of Kings, This Scepter'd Isle, This Earth Of Majesty, This Seat Of Mars, This Other Eden, Demi-paradise.

Discuss Unto Me: Art Thou Officer, Or Art Thou Base, Common, And Popular?