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SIR, more than kisses, letters mingle souls, For thus, friends absent speak.
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Sweare by thy selfe, that at my death thy Sonne Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;...
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One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die!
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We are all conceived in close prison; in our mothers wombs, we are close prisoners all; when we are born, we are born but to the liberty of the house; prisoners still, though within larger walls; and then all our life is but a going out to the place of execution, to death.
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I would not that death should take me asleep. I would not have him meerly seise me, and onely declare me to be dead, but win me, and overcome ...
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