O Sleep! O Gentle Sleep! Nature's Soft

Farewell! God Knows When We Shall Meet Again.

Cry "havoc!" And Let Loose The Dogs Of War, That This Foul Deed Shall Smell Above The Earth With Carrion Men, Groaning For Burial.

Love Thrives Not In The Heart That Shadows Dreadeth

Have Not Saints Lips, And Holy Palmers Too Ay, Pilgrim, Lips That They Must Use In Prayer.

Here, Thou Incestuous, Murderous, Damned Dane, Drink Off This Potion!