Read it through once

SHEPHERD. I cannot speak, nor think, Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir, You have undone a man of fourscore three, That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea, To die upon the bed my father died, To lie close by his honest bones; but now Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch, That knew’st this was the prince, and wouldst adventure To mingle faith with him! Undone, undone! If I might die within this hour, I have liv’d To die when I desire.