World a stage, fool fool fury hurry
Already harpies alight your pomes
Setting alight poems too many secrets holding
Digging a grave to hold thee
Who heard me o’erfreely speaking today
As a pulpitted deacon pulverising pagan Egypt with plagues of a Sunday
Mysteries many yet to solve but this one I sever, resolving by blade
Severe, smearing upon innocent doublet blood of one innocent doubly
Dead, for but a ducat.
I came to places unpaved
Wild shuck-haunted ways mazelike
Where stuck men walk days, befuddled by fairy strey
Terra firma sustain you not, for glaive’d have I gordian knot
Which stayed braying sage minds a hundred ages
Vile earth in paces measured
Encased my brethren, unbreathed
Full five fathom father, lie.
Alchemisland 
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