I have pluck'd the rose I cannot give it vital growth again
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit
O falsely, falsely murdered!
Nobody. I myself. Farewell. Commend me to my kind lord
O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil!
I will speak as liberal as the north
So speaking as I think, alas, I die
Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body?
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss