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Delirium Of The Dying: Quotations from Shakespearian Quotations

O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes, In their continuance will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies; Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should sing I am the cygnet to this pale-fac'd swan, Who chaunts a doleful hymn to his own death; And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings His soul and body to their lasting rest.— K. J. v. 7.