Death Is A Fearful Thing.

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.

For My Part, If A Lie May Do Thee Grace, I'll Gild It With The Happiest Terms I Have.

Well, If Fortune Be A Woman, She's A Good Wench For This Gear.

I'll Break My Staff, Bury It Certain Fathoms In The Earth, And Deeper Than Did Ever Plummet Sound, I'll Drown My Book!

Ring The Alarum-bell! Blow, Wind! Come, Wrack! At Least We'll Die With Harness On Our Back.