When griping grief the heart doth wound, and doleful dumps the mind opresses, then music, with her silver sound, with speedy help doth lend redress.
... And death unloads thee.
Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.
I'll note you in my book of memory.
There is nothing in the world so much like prayer as music is. ~William Shakespeare
Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English.