Théodore Chassériau, Romeo and Juliet
What’s here? A cup closed in my true love’s hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.-
O churl, drunk all, and left no friendly drop
To help me after! I will kiss thy lips.
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative.
Thy lips are warm!
Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief. O, happy dagger,
This is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die.