“But here must end the story of my life,And happy were I in my timely deathCould all my travels warrant me they live.”

“My dear dear lord,The purest treasure mortal times affordIs spotless reputation: that away,Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chestIs a bold spirit in a loyal breast.Mine honour is my life; both grow in one:Take honour from me, and my life is done:Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;In that I live and for that will I die.”

“Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir.My daughter he hath wedded. I will die,And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.”

“For you, in my respect, are all the world.Then how can it be said I am aloneWhen all the world is here to look on me?”

“I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool’d to hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in’t: I have supt full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.”

“whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm.yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.”

“You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.”