And rack thy limbs with poison, wither up
The fine full blood, breed serpents in thy heart,
And worms to eat thee. Living thou shalt be
A sensible corpse, a walking sepulchre.
Come, come, Apollyon! Come, my Aggereth!
Belial, cheat his ears and blind his eyes!
Come, all ye tribes of serpents and foul fish!
Beetle and worm, I have a feast for you!
Tannhäuser.
The palace staggers. I can hardly see—