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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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My daughter he hath wedded: I will die.

 
Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him,

 Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead O momentary grace of mortal men, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, With one that saw him die: who did report, 
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;

 No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, There's nothing serious in mortality: The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, Death, desolation, ruin, and decay: To add the death of you. Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, But two months dead!--nay, not so much, not two: One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. Of his own just remove: the people muddied, That Anne, my queen, is sick and like to die: