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He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. —Hamlet, Act IV, scene v
Anyone, Eliza is thinking, who describes dying as “slipping away” or “peaceful” has never witnessed it happen. Death is violent, death is a struggle. The body clings to life, as ivy to a wall, and will not easily let go, will not surrender its grip without a fight.
I am dead: Thou livest; …draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story —Hamlet, Act V, scene ii
He has, Agnes sees, done what any father would wish to do, to exchange his child’s suffering for his own, to take his place, to offer himself up in his child’s stead so that the boy might live.
