Do not speak like a death's-head, do not bid me remember mine end.
Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Why, thou owest god a death.
He that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail.
And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd
We came into the world like brother and brother, And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.