1 In the same figure, like the King that's dead.
2 Tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.
3 One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.
4 And your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.
5 Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, We cannot get from him.
6 The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes passionate action.
7 A second time I kill my husband dead, When second husband kisses me in bed.
8 Horatio, I am dead, Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied.
9 So think thou wilt no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
10 Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
11 We should profane the service of the dead To sing sage requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.
12 The ears are senseless that should give us hearing, To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd, That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.
13 Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch In the dead waste and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd.
14 There with fantastic garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them.
15 In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star, Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.