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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.--

 Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? To cure this deadly grief. For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, 
And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
 And lead you even to death: meantime forbear, 
  • O, I die, Horatio;
 What sights of ugly death within my eyes!  Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war.