And graves have yawned and yielded up their dead;
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds,
In ranks and squadrons and right form of war,
Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol;
The noise of battle hurtled in the air,
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan;
And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.”—II., II, 14.
. . . . .
“When beggars die there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.”