A while she stood  
  Transform'd by grief to marble, and appear'd  
  Her own pale monument; but when she breath'd  
  The secret anguish of her wounded soul;  
  So moving were the plaints! they wou'd have sooth'd  
  The stooping falcon to suspend his flight,  
  And spare his morning prey.
Act III, Scene I, p. 25 - Mariamne: A Tragedy (1723)























