“O! that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew; Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d His canon ’gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world. William Shakespeare
“Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. William Shakespeare
“But manly sette the world on six and sevene; And if thow deye a martyr, go to hevene! Geoffrey Chaucer