[…] pithless arms, like to a wither’d vine That droops his sapless branches to the ground;

RHAH: They got through Alpha Company! Anything behind you don't identify itself, blow it away. Two - air strike's coming in. They gonna lay snake and nape right on the perimeter so stay tight in your holes and don't leave 'em.

The Uncles Brickell, Swarfega kings, enseamed with swarf and scobs, skin measled with gunmetal but glistening faintly, loud in the smoke.

See’st thou yon river, whose translucent wave, Forth issuing from the darkness, windeth through The argent streets o’ th’ City, imaging The soft inversion of her tremulous Domes,