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The commons,
like an angry hive of bees,
That want their leader, scatter up and down,
And care not who they sting in his revenge.
Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his death.

K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 't is too true;

But how he died, God knows, not Henry: Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,

And comment then upon his sudden death. H. VI., 2 pt., III: 2. 927.

-Under doubtful Impulse.

Kod. I have no great devotion to the

deed:

And yet he has given me satisfying reasons: 'Tis but a man gone :-forth, my sword; he dies.

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Ere human statute purg'd the gentle 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 murther is.

M., III: 4. 1372.

-Wounds of the, Bleed.

Glo. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it down.

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What black magician conjures up this fiend,

To stop devoted charitable deeds?
Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or,

by Saint Paul,

I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

1 Gent.

My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

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time,

Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are at

tentive:

For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neigh-
ing loud,

Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
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,

(When she had fitted you with her craft,) to By the sweet power of music: Therefore,

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the poet

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Lor.

T., IV: 1. 28.

Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress'

ear,

And draw her home with music.

-Miserable.

K. Rich * How sour sweet music is, when time is broke, and no proportion kept. R. II., V: 5. 716.

Suf.

Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss. II. VI., 2 pt., III: 2. 930.

Cal. Be not afeard; the isle is full of But stop my house's ears, I mean my case

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choice;

have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd Let music sound, while he doth make his him and I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.

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Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like

end,

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