Marry, but it can!—or else your sword's a foolish dog that dar'n't bite his owner.
Marlowe.
O friends—dear friends—this is a sorry end—
A most unworthy end! To think—O God!—
To think that I should fall by the hand of one
Whose office, like his nature, is all baseness,
Gives Death ten thousand stings, and to the Grave
A damning victory! Fame sinks with life!
A galling—shameful—ignominious end! (sinks down).
O mighty heart! O full and orbed heart,