Presume Not That I Am The Thing

I Can Call Spirits From The Vasty Deep.

...too Much Sadness Hath Congealed Your Blood,and Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

The Poor World Is Almost Six Thousand Years Old, And In All This Time There Was Not Any Man Died In His Own Person, Videlicet, In A Love-cause.

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!

Master, Go On, And I Will Follow Thee To The Last Gasp With Truth And Loyalty.