“For, statue like, here will I fix myself,
“Till thou dost hear me out.
“Oh! is’t not most manlike, that we stain
“Our hands with blood that ne’er did us offend?
“Is’t not most serpent-like, to sting sweet sleep,
“Which even from the giant takes all strength,
“And makes man taste of that which is to come?
“Let us, I pray thee, friend, turn from the deed!
“I cannot, dare not, nay! I will not do’t.
1st Mur. “Coward! take hence that poor, unmanly frame,