Seek wilt thou words fertile,
beasts tremble.
These wicked fish confined on't pinched isle,
unwillingly confined 'neath brine pits ancient.
Thou art filthy natives,
thine foul breath,
roars violently,
Dids't thou mother breath such death,
for plague ist lesson taught hard.
Doth light mine language charm?
Thou art lame,
thou whilst thine purpose endowed
speak therefore o'er thine God
to thine strange,
dead,
England
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