Now I don't have to kill the bastard myself. He'll do real well in a Peruvian prison.
Now I don't have to kill the bastard myself. He'll do real well in a Peruvian prison.
Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,
Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf
Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
Your children yet unborn and unbegot,
That lift your vassal hands against my head
And threat the glory of my precious crown.
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