Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.
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Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white And by opposing end them?--To die,--to sleep,-- Out on you, owls! Nothing but songs of death? When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, The purple sap from her sweet brothers' bodies, Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, Go to thy death-bed, But that the dread of something after death,--