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If, rather than to marry County Paris,thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,then is it likely thou wilt undertake. A thing like death to chide away this shame,hat copest with death himself to ’scape from it.An if thou darest, I’ll give thee remedy.
O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris.....Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble—and I will do it without fear or doubt,to live an unstained wife to my sweet love.
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,and this distillèd liquor drink thou off,When presently through all thy veins shall run a cold and drowsy humor, for no pulse. Shall keep his native progress, but surcease.
No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest.The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade to paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall. Like death when he shuts up the day of life.Each part, deprived of supple government,Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death.
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