O Most Delicate Fiend! Who Is't Can

A Politician... One That Would Circumvent God.

Tears Water Our Growth.

God Bless Thee; And Put Meekness In Thy Breast, Love, Charity, Obedience, And True Duty!

Treason And Murder Ever Kept Together, As Two Yoke-devils Sworn To Either's Purpose, Working So Grossly In A Natural Cause That Admiration Did Not Whoop At Them; But Thou, 'gainst All Proportion, Didst Bring In Wonder To Wait On Treason And On Murder; And Whatsoever Cunning Fiend It Was That Wrought Upon Thee So Preposterously Hath Got The Voice In Hell For Excellence.

Death Is My Son-in-law, Death Is My Heir.