The Gloomy Shade Of Death.

I See, Sir, You Are Liberal In Offers. You Taught Me First To Beg, And Now Methinks You Teach Me How A Beggar Should Be Answered.

Come Away, Come Away, Death, And In Sad Cypres Let Me Be Laid; Fly Away, Fly Away, Breath; I Am Slain By A Fair Cruel Maid.

Dissembling Courtesy! How Fine This Tyrant Can Trickle When She Wounds!

Hath Romeo Slain Himself? Say Thou But Ay, And That Bare Vowel Ay Shall Poison More Than The Death-darting Eye Of Cockatrice. I Am Not I,if There Be Such An Ay, Or Those Eyes Shut,that Make Thee Answer Ay: If He Be Slain Say Ay,or If Not,no: Brief Sounds,determine Of My Weal Or Woe.

After Your Death You Were Better Have A Bad Epitaph Than Their Ill Report While You Live.