whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.

Small to greater matters must give way.

If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.

In a false quarrel there is no true valor.

And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.

They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together.

Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban