The Expiration

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss,
  Which sucks two souls, and vapours both away;
Turn, thou ghost, that way, and let me turn this,
  And let ourselves benight our happiest day.
We ask none leave to love; nor will we owe
  Any so cheap a death as saying, “Go.”

Go; and if that word have not quite killed thee,
  Ease me with death, by bidding me go too.
Or, if it have, let my word work on me,
  And a just office on a murderer do.
Except it be too late, to kill me so,
  Being double dead, going, and bidding, “Go.”