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Cliquer sur les vers pour les voir dans leur contexte. Les pièces de Shakespeare sont disponibles auprès du Projet Gutenberg.

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For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly

 Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,  Soldiers, sir. Sirrah, your father's dead; Would create soldiers, make our women fight, Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, That I may live to say "The dog is dead." 
And these,--who, often drown'd, could never die,--

 
How oft when men are at the point of death
 Cold death aside, and with the other sends The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.-- Millions of overweight folks are frustrated.  O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death! O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream,-- Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.-- These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, Misconster us in him, and wail his death. 
  • How oft when men are at the point of death
 Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, And steal immortal blessing from her lips; But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. To-day shalt thou behold a subject die Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse Let every soldier hew him down a bough,