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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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And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,

 To time and mortal custom.--Yet my heart And steal immortal blessing from her lips; And so did I; well, we were born to die. Devoutly to be wish'd. To die,--to sleep;-- An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i' the streets, That I may live to say "The dog is dead." Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, 
Alas, alas!--Help, help! My lady's dead!--

 Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.-- Why then, God's soldier be he! Which by his death hath lost much majesty. Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!" A thing like death to chide away this shame, Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
And only in that safety died her brothers.
 With Romeo till I behold him--dead-- 
Give, me superfluous death.

 Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? To catch my death with jauncing up and down! And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.