Vnder the earth to bury there my woe.
What say I? where am I? ô Cleopatra,
Poore Cleopatra, griefe thy reason reaues.
No, no, most happie in this happles case,
To die with thee, and dieng thee embrace:
My bodie ioynde with thine, my mouth with thine,
My mouth, whose moisture burning sighes haue dried:
To be in one selfe tombe, and one selfe chest,
And wrapt with thee in one selfe sheete to rest.
The sharpest torment in my heart I feele