Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity. - William Shakespeare

I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?...

'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.

If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.

Good Madonna, why mournest thou?
Good Fool, for my brother's death.
I think his soul is in hell, Madonna.
I know his soul is in heaven, Fool.
The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.