?̶̣͌̓̑͌͌͋̇̎̎͠?̸̡̦̟̯̮̮̳̤͖͗̈́͘?̵͓̱̟͍̝̻̮̘̌̂̀͝ ̵̧͇̣̜͍̞̗̟̮͉̎͐̂̍̒́̈́͗͜m̵̧̨͎̯͇̯͉̘̮͓͈͙̀̂̎́͐̔̕͝ͅo̶̥̣̦͉̻͛̊n̵̛̲̮̥̣̲͉̗̖͈̳̼̰̏͒̓̅̾̒͂̉̀̃̿̎͝t̶͓̻̳̩͕̫͎̟͙̲̘͉̞̖̄͛̕h̷̰̮̏͗̄̐̔͌̊̈́͘̕̚s̷̥͍͕̖̳͓͈̖̮̓͗́̒͆̐̎̿̽̂̋̽̔͌ ̷͈̼͖͍̺̯͍̥̬̩̙̈̍̃ͅs̷̛̙̠̯̫̻̲͎̺̝͇̒́̄̑̒͑̀͂̈͆́͋̋̃i̸͉̰̋̽n̶̥̩̤̹̙̩̮̘̼̦̈́ͅc̵͖̊̏͋͂̓̓̒͆͠ȩ̵̛̛̖́́͘.̴̛͚̬̺̼̜͉̱̫̪́̿̂̍͊͘͜ ̸̮̰̹̗̯̱̻̱͙͊͒̓̓̿͛̑̔̾͋̓͘͜͠ͅͅ:̴̛̭̖́̀̃{̸̡̡̨̤̟̱̙̪̭̖̬̭͉͒͛͛̓̒͗͆̋̕ͅ}̴̡̲̦̗̠̥͈͔͔͇̏͋͊̄̈͛̊͘̕͠ͅ|̸̨̧͔͔̬̬̱͙̭̤̪͌̅͗̔̒̆͐̍|̶̛̞̗̀̅͝{̸̡̘̲̜̟͇͉̜̈̇̓͠}̷̢̢̡̙͚͖̮̺̭̦̤̒̓̀̈́̀̍̐̑̍͂̽́̌̚͜͠{̵̢̡̹̘̖̱̼̫̪̣͖̖̐̿̾̉͐̏͑̌͂̓̔̽̐̕ͅͅ}̴̡̛͇͎͉̟̞̰͔̯̤̘͈̓͑̈́̃̅̄̊̐̓͆̕͠͝͝ͅ|̵́̅̾͌̀͋

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I am dead, Horatio.—Wretched queen, adieu.—
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
That are but mutes or audience to this act,
Had I but time,—as this fell sergeant, death,
Is strict in his arrest,—O, I could tell you,—
But let it be.