Our Swords Shall Play The Orators For

Accurst Be He That First Invented War.

It Is A Comfort To The Miserable To Have Comrades In Misfortune, But It Is A Poor Comfort After All.

Where Both Deliberate, The Love Is Slight: Who Ever Lov'd, That Lov'd Not At First Sight?

Make Me Immortal With A Kiss.

Nature That Framed Us Of Four Elements, Warring Within Our Breasts For Regiment, Doth Teach Us All To Have Aspiring Minds: Our Souls, Whose Faculties Can Comprehend The Wondrous Architecture Of The World, And Measure Every Wandering Planet's Course, Still Climbing After Knowledge Infinite, And Always Moving As The Restless Spheres, Wills Us To Wear Ourselves, And Never Rest, Until We Reach The Ripest Fruit Of All, That Perfect Bliss And Sole Felicity, The Sweet Fruition Of An Earthly Crown.