To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh’d villains, bloody dogs,—
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like to children in their death’s sad story:
O thus! quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes;
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
Within their innocent alabaster arms;
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
And in that summer beauty kissed each other;
A book of prayers on their pillow lay,