Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
To be no part of any body, is to be nothing.
I shall die reading; since my book and a grave are so near.
Our two souls therefore which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat.
God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath.
Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.