<SPEECH 1><ACT 3><SCENE 2><52%>
<LUCIANUS>	<52%>
	Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
	Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
	Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
	With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
	Thy natural magic and dire property,
	On wholesome life usurp immediately.
</LUCIANUS>

