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


Their course of love, the tidings of her death:

 Had you such leisure in the time of death Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, Why follow'd not, when she said Tybalt's dead, Hold fast the mortal sword, and, like good men, 
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.

 No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp; Of his own just remove: the people muddied, Who am I? Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death? Strange images of death. As thick as hail Upon his death? As loath to lose him, not your father's death; 
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?--
 I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. To make me die with a restorative. 
Well, may you see things well done there,--adieu!--

 That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; A dateless bargain to engrossing death!-- Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead?