Go, Bid The Soldiers Shoot.

Good God, The Souls Of All My Tribe Defend From Jealousy!

I Do Love Nothing In The World So Well As You- Is Not That Strange?

Unsubstantial Death Is Amorous.

Slander, Whose Whisper Over The World's Diameter, As Level As The Cannon To Its Blank, Transports Its Poisoned Shot.

The Eyes Are The Window To Your Soul