Parolles: He wears his honour in a box, unseen / That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, / Spending his manly marrow in her arms / Of Mars’s fiery steed.
With the exception of the leader's boppish title tune, the album is filled with anarchistic jazz reduxes of Nichols, Ellington, Kurt Weill, and Cole Porter.
I'll to my brother: / Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, / Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour. / That had he twenty heads to tender down / On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up, / Before his sister should her body stoop / To such abhorr'd pollution.
...seeing th'arrowes stale without.
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★★★★★★★★★★
