Two-edged harlequins transform a mess into an image of radiance. A groundswell forms: public honor flourishes. Throngs marshal in Colosseums and rhapsodize as the gilded lily treads the boards. Nay, the gold varnish oh-so withers, exposing the overripe essence. At will, reverence strengthens by dint of shame, having banqueted on the slippery motion. Henceforth, parade spells charade (black is white, up is down and so on). Alas, a Stygian host flutters inside Avernus, resting on lurid plumes of iniquity.
Anon's Register 