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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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Let every soldier hew him down a bough,

 But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. Cold death aside, and with the other sends From the first corse till he that died to-day, More than his father's death, that thus hath put him And for his death no wind shall breathe; No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, 
This quarry cries on havoc.--O proud death,
 Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause; Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Alack the day!--he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!