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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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This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

 Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. More miserable by the death of him  So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, Die in his youth by like untimely violence! Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, Told the sad story of my father's death, Shot from the deadly level of a gun, The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo I have bewept a worthy husband's death, 
  • Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead.
 Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine