William Shakespeare

Come, the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.

Come, the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.

Give every man your ear, but few thy voice. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

Give every man your ear, but few thy voice. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

I cannot give thee less, to be called grateful.
Thou thought'st to help me, and such thanks I give
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I cannot give thee less, to be called grateful.
Thou thought'st to help me, and such thanks I give
As one near death to those that wish him live.

Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will read more

Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins
That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
As violently as hasty powder fired
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
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You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please.