[A lean smile. Howl is familiar with this game, though it doesn't mean he's against playing.] And you know of just such a pawnshop?

[A pause, glass-marble eyes flicking briefly over Gold before his tongue clicks softly, and he recites,]

Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the Devil's foot;
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

By whom is anyone's guess. English poets -- so many sound alike.