Shakspeare has, in Julius Caesar, made a fine use of this image:—
"And Caesar's spirit ranging for revenge
with Ate by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war."
I need not point out to the reader the beautiful propriety of
introducing the evil spirit on this occasion.—TRANSLATOR.
SCENE IV.
Enter SIR AMIAS PAULET and MORTIMER.
ELIZABETH.
There's Sir Amias Paulet; noble sir,
What tidings bring you?
PAULET.
Gracious sovereign,
My nephew, who but lately is returned
From foreign travel, kneels before thy feet,
And offers thee his first and earliest homage,
Grant him thy royal grace, and let him grow
And flourish in the sunshine of thy favor.
MORTIMER (kneeling on one knee).
Long live my royal mistress! Happiness
And glory from a crown to grace her brows!
ELIZABETH.
Arise, sir knight; and welcome here in England;
You've made, I hear, the tour, have been in France
And Rome, and tarried, too, some time at Rheims:
Tell me what plots our enemies are hatching?
MORTIMER.
May God confound them all! And may the darts
Which they shall aim against my sovereign,
Recoiling, strike their own perfidious breasts!