She's Good, Being Gone.

Death, That Hath Suck'd The Honey Of Thy Breath Hath Had No Power Yet Upon Thy Beauty.

For By His Face Straight Shall You Know His Heart.

Men's Evil Manners Live In Brass; Their Virtues We Write In Water.

'tis Thought The King Is Dead; We Will Not Stay. The Bay Trees In Our Country Are All Wither'd.

Mercy But Murders, Pardoning Those That Kill.