We can't hook
You—but, look
You, you won't get much ease,
For your ears we shall enter, and down your throat dive:
Whilst, to make the most of you, as rivals we'll strive:
But your bones will be left when we've finally done
To be washed by the rain and made white by the sun.
Oh, revenge is a sweet and a delicate sauce,
Which will sharpen our teeth should we chance feel remorse."
Then a dark'ning shade o'er the victim's head,