ST. ISABEAU: Knaves, what sloth! The full moon riseth nigh, and ye have nary a sword nor scabbard between ye!

FATHER MOREAU: Pray, forgive me mine indolence. Wherefore dost thou grace us with thy radiance?

ST. ISABEAU: I am come to effect a trap for a louse.

FATHER MOREAU: A louse, milady?

ST. ISABEAU: Aye, for hemomancers are naught but lice. And to find one, we must needs spill blood.

—Sacrament of the Lady Saint, Act II, Scene IV