Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision,

Grim-visaged War Hath Smoothed His Wrinkled Front; And Now, Instead Of Mounting Barbed Steeds To Fright The Souls Of Fearful Adversaries, He Capers Nimbly In A Lady's Chamber To The Lascivious Pleasing Of A Lute.

Who Is Silvia What Is She, That All Our Swains Commend Her Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She.

Fair Katherine, And Most Fair, Will You Vouchsafe To Teach A Soldier Terms Such As Will Enter At A Lady's Ear, And Plead His Love-suit To Her Gentle Heart?

... I Am At War 'twixt Will And Will Not.

Now The Good Gods Forbid That Our Renowned Rome, Whose Gratitude Towards Her Deserved Children Is Enrolled In Jove's Own Book, Like An Unnatural Dam Should Now Eat Up Her Own!