يهيمون على وجوههم

Act 5, Scene 6

اوروبا سابقا الشرق اليوم

They love not poison that do poison need

Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead

I hate the murderer, love him murdered

The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour

But neither my good word nor princely favour

With Cain go wander through shades of night

And never show thy head by day nor light

Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe

That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow

Come, mourn with me for that I do lament

And put on sullen black incontinent

I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land

To wash this blood off from my guilty hand

March sadly after; grace my mournings here

In weeping after this untimely bier