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
