[soliloquy by raymond, music by theatre of tragedy]
whether he the quaint savant's power doth held i now not,
albeit aetat a thousand stars' birth he is -
zuoth i that for reasons to me oblivious
august of a granditude of servants is he held,
and by plastic consonantry e'en more servants to the host added are -
pelf they are, dare i say!
maugre his diurnal serphic deviltry
i say that deviltry - 'tis forsooth deviltry! -
mind not this in scintillating shades clad is;
to claim the glore is he suffer'd.
"grant me the fatlings", gouth he, "the fatter the better!",
and died they of starvation;
they are not slaughtering their fatlings -
they are slaughtering 'hemselves.
sith i at time of yester the questions durst ask,
and dare i say this burthen weightful was,
wrack of his machine - like motion was i naméd,
tho' blind and fond the jesters rebuilt
the machine alike - yet whetted and dight are its edges... |