She would have died anon.

...Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.
Out, out! brief candle.
Life's but a poor player
Who struts and frets his time upon the stage and then is heard no more!
'Tis but a tale told by an idiot
Full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.

I helped Billy-Bob write that. We were both pretty drunk, down at the Mermaid Tavern, and he kept spilling his beer and yelling for more pretzels and wenches. I remember Billy-Bob and this red-haired...well, never mind. But it was interesting.