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O me, O me!--my child, my only life! And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd: The life of Tybalt. And all those twenty could but kill one life. Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower, Life and these lips have long been separated: Her life is safest only in her birth. Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life To grunt and sweat under a weary life, Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements, Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements, The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;