Now, Gorlois, pierce the craggy rocks of hell,
Through chinks whereof infernal sprites do glance,
Return this answer to the furies’ court:
That Cornwall trembles with the thought of war,
And Tamar’s flood with drooping pace doth flow,
For fear of touching Camel’s bloody stream.
Britain, remember; write it on thy walls,
Which neither time nor tyranny may raze,
That rebels, traitors, and conspirators,
The seminary of lewd Catiline,