The rest is silence

O, I die, Horatio;
The potent poison quite o’er-crows my spirit:
I cannot live to hear the news from England;
But I do prophesy the election lights
On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
Which have solicited. The rest is silence.

Act I, sc. iii

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.