MURDER,-cantinued.

Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, blood dogs.
Melting with tenderness, and mild compassion,
Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.

R. III. iv. 3.

R. J. iii. 1.

Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize.
Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
Ere human statute purg'd the general weal;
Ay, and since, too, murders have been perform'd
Too terrible for the ear; the times have been,
That when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end: but now, they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: This is more strange
Than such a murder is.

H. iv. 7.

M. iii. 4.

It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood;
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;
Augures, and understood relations, have

By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth
The secret'st man of blood.

M. iii. 4.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak

With most miraculous organ.

H. ii. 2

Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh,

And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,

But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest,
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak,
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

Wither'd murder,

Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,

H. VI. PT. II. iii. 2.

Whose howl's his watch, thus, with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design

Moves like a ghost.

With all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

M. ii. 1.

Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,

Making the green one, red.

Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!

You have no children, butchers! if you had,

The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse.

M. ii. 2.

H.VI. PT. III. v. 5,

MURDER,-continued.

Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

The bell invites me.

H. i. 5.

Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.

M. ii. 1.

Safe in a ditch he bides,'

With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a death to nature.

M. iii.4.

THE DUKE OF CLARENCE.

Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,

To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,

That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring me?
Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you on

To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.
Not to relent, is beastly savage, devilish.
Which, of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,

If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
Would not entreat for life?

My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,

Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress.
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
2nd Murderer.-Look behind you, my lord.
1st Murderer.-Take that, and that. (Stabbing him.)

YOUNG PRINCES (WALES and YORK).

O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,—
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
Within their alabaster innocent arms;

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,

R. III. i. 4.

Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.

A book of prayers on their pillow lay;

Which, once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;
But, O, the devil-there the villain stopp'd
When Dighton thus told on,-we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd.

RICHARD THE SECOND.

R. III. iv. 3.

Exton.-From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. Bolingbroke. They love not poison that do poison need, Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,

MURDER, RICHARD THE SECOND,-continued.

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely favour;
With Cain go wander through the shade of night,
And never shew thy head by day, nor light.

PRINCE ARthur.

Hubert.

R.II. v. 6.

Here is your hand and seal for what I did. King John.-O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth

Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal

Witness against us to damnation!

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds,

Makes deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind:
But, taking note of thy abhor'd aspéct,
Finding thee fit for bloody villany,
Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death;
And thou, to be endeared to a king,

Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.
Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause,
When I spake darkly what I purposed;
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face,

As bid me tell my tale in express words;

Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off,

And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me ;
But thou didst understand me by my signs,

And didst in signs again parley with sin;

Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,
And, consequently, thy rude hand to act

The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name.-
Out of my sight, and never see me more!

SUSPICION OF.

If thou didst but consent

To this most cruel act, do but despair,

And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread

That ever spider twisted from her womb

Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be

K. J. iv. 2.

A beam to hang thee on; or would'st thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon,

And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stifle such a villain up.—
I do suspect thee very grievously.

K. J. iv. 3.

MUSIC.

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.

Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in music. That the comparison

M. V. v. 1.

May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream,
And wat'ry death-bed for him: He may win;
And what is music then? Then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
To a new-crowned monarch; such it is,
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day,
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
And summon him to marriage.

M.V. iii. 2. Come on; tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing, after a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it,—and then let her consider.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sitting on a bank,

Weeping against the king my father's wreck,
This music crept by me upon the waters;
Allaying both their fury and my passion,
With its sweet air.

Cym. ii. 3.

M.V. v. 1.

T. i. 2.

'Tis good tho' music oft hath such a charm,

To make bad good; and good provoke to harm. M. M. iv. 1.

And it will discourse most eloquent music.

Preposterous ass! that never read so far,

To know the cause why music was ordain'd!
Was it not to refresh the mind of man,
After his studies, or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,

H. iii. 2.

And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.

T.S. iii. 1.

I'm never merry, when I hear sweet music.

The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,

Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood:

If they perchance but hear a trumpet sound,

MUSIC,-continued.

Or any air of music touch their ears,

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,

By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the poet
Did fein that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,

But music for the time doth change his nature. M. V. v. 1.

The man that hath not music in himself,

Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus :
Let no such man be trusted.

For Orpheus' lute was stung with poets' sinews,
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones;
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.

If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.-
That strain again;-it had a dying fall:

O, it came o'er mine ear like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour.

Once I sat upon a promontory,

And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew civil at her song;
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid's music.

Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;
Unless some dull and favourable hand

M.V. v. 1.

T. G. iii. 2.

T. N. i. 1.

M. N. ii. 2.

Will whisper music to my weary spirit. H. IV. PT. II. iv. 4.

Then music, with her silver sound,

With speedy help doth lend redress.

R. J. iv. 5.

Tax not so bad a voice

M. A. ii. 3.

To slander music any more than once.

But, masters, here's money for you: and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, of all loves, to make no more noise with it.

Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays,
And twenty caged nightingales do sing.
Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love. The music, ho!

O. iii. 1.

T. S. IND. 2.

A. C. ii. 5.