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This hand of mine Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. Within this bosom never enter'd yet The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought. King John. Her terror and remorse have maddened her. I can dwell upon her image with pity." The next, "Will they find her wet clothes and discover that she was out last night?" The latter possibility troubled me.
I aren't a murd'rous sort o' man, Master Carey, but he tried to kill me, only he didn't hit hard enough, and I get thinking that there old ruffian won't be perfeck till he's quite finished. Well, sir, what's to be done? You're skipper now as t'others is both wounded.
I remember now that you wrote: "'A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon Than love that would seem hid. "Oh, for the eyes of Argus. If all the mines of wealth in the world were uncovered, and I might have them all for looking, I'd turn away for one clear glimpse into her woman's heart to-night. Go to New York on Monday! No, not unless driven away with a whip of scorpions.
And let strong Nature's crimson mark your blame. I speak to Britons. Britons, then, behold A man by Britons snar'd, and seiz'd, and sold! And yet no British statute damns the deed, Nor do the more than murd'rous villains bleed. "O sons of freedom! equalize your laws, Be all consistent, plead the Negro's cause; That all the nations in your code may see The British Negro, like the Briton, free.
No eagle that ever circled those skies watched as I'll stay and watch for the faintest trace of this priceless secret. No detective, stimulated by professional pride and vast reward, ever sought proof of 'murd'rous guilt' as I shall seek for evidences of this pure woman's love, for more than life depends on the result of my quest."
BERTRAND. The fearful Salisbury conducts the siege, The town-destroyer; with him Lionel, The brother of the lion; Talbot, too, Who, with his murd'rous weapon, moweth down The people in the battle: they have sworn, With ruthless insolence to doom to shame The hapless maidens, and to sacrifice All who the sword have wielded, with the sword.
Four lofty watch-towers, to o'ertop the town, They have upreared; Earl Salisbury from on high Casteth abroad his cruel, murd'rous glance, And marks the rapid wanderers in the streets. Thousands of cannon-balls, of pond'rous weight, Are hurled into the city. Churches lie In ruined heaps, and Notre Dame's royal tower Begins at length to bow its lofty head.
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