The single and peculiar mind is boundWith all the strength and armor of the mindTo keep itself from noyance, but much moreThat spirit upon whose weal depends and restsThe lives of many. The cess of majestyDies not alone, but like a gulf doth drawWhat's near it with it; or it is a massy wheelFixed on the summit of the highest mount,To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser thingsAre mortised and adjoined, which, when it falls,Each small annexment, petty consequence,Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never aloneDid the king sigh, but with a general groan.
’Tis now the very witching time of night, 419 When churchyards yawn and hell itself ⟨breathes⟩ 420 out 421 Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot 422 blood 423 And do such ⟨bitter⟩ business as the day 424 Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my mother. 425 O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever 426 The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom. 427 Let me be cruel, not unnatural. 428 I will speak ⟨daggers⟩ to her, but use none. 429 My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites: 430 How in my words somever she be shent, 431 To give them seals never, my soul, consent. 432 He exits.