Shall never tremble or be alive again
False face must hide the mortal thoughts like the innocent flower.
Be the serpent
Plague the inventor
Spite the world
Perform what you command
Daggers ready.
Infected be the air whereon they ride
And damn'd all those that trust them!
Which in his death were perfect
The courage of my violent love.
We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it?
Didst thou not hear a noise?
Help me hence, ho!
His bloody stage, this bloody deed
So foul and fair
This even handed justice
Summons thee to heaven, or to hell.
This is a sorry sight.
