“Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus.Now I am dead,Now I am fled,My soul is in the sky.Tongue, lose thy light.Moon take thy flight.Now die, die, die, die.”

“O true apothecary!Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die”

“thus with a kiss I die”

“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.”

“O good Horatio, what a wounded name,Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!If thou didst ever hold me in thy heartAbsent thee from felicity awhile,And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,To tell my story. . .O, I die, Horatio;”

“One pain is lessened by another’s anguish. ... Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die.”

“I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?”