[ – What is here?]
Gold! Yellow, glittering, precious gold! – [No gods,
I am no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heaven.].
Thus much of this, will make black white; foul – fair;
Wrong – right; base – noble; old – young; coward – valiant.
[Ha, you gods. Why this?] What this, you gods! Why this
Will lug your priests and servants from your sides;
Pluck stout men’s pillows from below thier heads
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs’d;
Make the hoar leprosy ador’d; place thieves
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators of the bench: this is it,
That makes the wappen’d widow wed again;
[She, whom the spital – house and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again]. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind…
