Who Soars Too Near The Sun, With

Who Is Silvia What Is She, That All Our Swains Commend Her Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She.

Out Of This Nettle - Danger - We Pluck This Flower - Safety.

Thrift, Thrift, Horatio! The Funeral Bak'd Meats Did Coldly Furnish Forth The Marriage Tables.

Now The Good Gods Forbid That Our Renowned Rome, Whose Gratitude Towards Her Deserved Children Is Enrolled In Jove's Own Book, Like An Unnatural Dam Should Now Eat Up Her Own!

Within The Book And Volume Of Thy Brain.